Hitchhiking is a common method of travel for people who have somewhere to be and no way to get there. Ever since high-speed vehicles became commonplace in most people's garages, bumming rides has been a truly viable option for crossing large distances. There's a delicate balance between hitchhikers and their drivers. Both parties bring sensible concern to the situation. A driver is wary about picking up a random stranger from the open world, and the hitchhiker is worried about the intentions of the driver. Despite what many people say, most hitchhiking scenarios go perfectly fine. Many people want company on long desolate drives and are more than happy to help a wayward soul get wherever they're going.
Of course, there are obvious dangers involved with hitchhiking. It's typically unwise for women to do it alone. However, there are advantages to being young and gorgeous. The toughest part of hitchhiking is the first impression. Most drivers have less than a second to decide whether or not they want to pull over and give someone a ride. Men often struggle to pass that fast of an evaluation; especially if they haven't had the chance to shower or change for a while. Women, on the other hand, are immediately less intimidating to drivers. Not only that, but they're more likely going to be interpreted as warm and friendly, even if they haven't spoken a word. Like all aspects of life, sexism plays a role. Men are less likely to fear giving a woman a ride. It's healthy to combat gender roles and stereotypes, but it's also wise to use any advantage you've got when desperate. With that in mind, seduction was Shirlie's primary method of hitching a ride.
"That's right, everyone. Why don't you just stand back and watch how it's done?" Shirlie ran her hands through her shoulder-length red hair. She pushed up her small bust, wiggling around in her jeans to get the fit just right over her rear.
The rest of the crew watched with mixed opinions. They were standing at the end of an exit ramp just off the highway. The crash caused traffic to slow to a halt, so many cars were trying to find another route. Before they could though, they had to use this ramp. That's where Shirlie planned on flagging a truck down.
"Not sure how I feel about having a sixteen-year-old using her body to get us a ride." Ripley mumbled with a frown.
"Pffft, like any of you could do it." Shirlie flipped her hair, turning her back to them.
"Oi! Watch it, flat bread. You've got the sex appeal of a gym sock. Don't go saying things like that when you've got smaller tits than Gramps." Marina walked up to Shirlie with her arms crossed.
"You think you've got the gift? Seduction is a strategy. A dented fire hydrant could pick up Megan Fox with the right opener. How much experience do you have flirting with men? Hairy, older men? That's who we're targeting right now, sister." Shirlie got right up in her face, towering over the blonde with a smile.
"Just point at a car and I'll get it, sister." Marina was unphased.
Shirlie turned back to face the road with a finger on her lip. "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm." She mulled it over for a minute. "Ah! That one!" She pointed to a large pickup truck coming around the bend.
"Done." Marina fixed her hair, walking away from the group with a sway in her step.
She stood right at the edge of the road with her right thumb extended for all to see. It was the universal signal for hitchhiking. Marina made sure to look her best, wanting to stick it to Shirlie by securing the first truck of the day with ease. She lucked out, because the driver noticed her right away. He pulled to the edge of the road and lowered his window. The rest of the crew were hidden by Ultra Violet and Mist. It was much easier to hitch a ride for one, after all. The rest would ride in the truck's bed.
"Hey there, big boy." Marina smirked, leaning against the passenger side door. "Heading east?"
The man was in pretty good shape. His sleeveless shirt revealed broad shoulders and defined arms. He leaned back in his seat, laughing at her question. "Oh? I'll take you anywhere, so long as we make a stop down south."
Marina just stared at him for a minute. Her expression didn't change. It seemed like her face was lagging behind as her mind tried to make peace with the man's bold statement. Then. she snapped. Bubblegum Bitch struck him in the face with the bottom of its bat. She didn't use her sticking ability, simply striking him for the pain of it. He cried out in pain, blood dripping from his nose.
"You pig! I wouldn't touch your dick if it shot out the cure for cancer! I'd sooner share a bed with a family of starving coyotes right after one of my world-famous steak-baths! I'd sooner French kiss a sickly sea turtle on its three-hundredth birthday before touching my lips to your greasy cheek! Where do you get off making disgusting comments like that!?" She screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Owwwwwww! What the hell?" He asked, cupping his nose. "Lady! You hit on me!"
Marina calmed down for a moment. Her cheeks flushed pink at the realization. "O-Oh… right." She mumbled, remembering her bet with Shirlie.
"What's your problem!? Did you throw something at me? Forget the ride! You're crazy!" He hit the gas, peeling off of the exit ramp and leaving them utterly rideless.
She walked back to the group with her arms crossed in embarrassment. Shirlie rested her hand on her hip with a huge grin plastered on her face.
"Geez, Marina, I could feel the raw energy from over here. Why'd you let him drive away? I figured he was your boyfriend by now." Shirlie snickered.
"Alright, fine! I get it. You're better at seduction. Get out there and use what God gave you." Marina sighed.
Shizuka shook her head in disapproval. "If Jotaro were here right now, this is the part where he'd say 'Yare yare daze.'"
Las Vegas! The largest tourist attraction in the United States for party-goers, club-crawlers and of course, gamblers. Most of the states have moderate or strict laws in regards to gambling. However, Las Vegas has some of the laxest policies in the entire country. It's where Americans go to let loose and go wild for a weekend. Gambling isn't its only appeal, though. It also has quite the entertainment industry. Neon lights keep the city brighter than most of its inhabitants' futures twenty-four-seven. Almost every street is a blizzard of lights, eager tourists, loud music, party drugs, and unconscious drunks. Vegas also has several legal brothels. It's truly your one-stop-shop for all things primal.
Unfortunately, it also carries quite the odor.
The crew hopped out of a truck and took in the sights. They crashed about twenty minutes outside of town. It was pretty obvious that any car they managed to catch would be heading to Nevada's largest attraction. Still, it was nearly four in the afternoon. It might not be a terrible idea to find a hotel and plan their next move carefully.
Ripley lead them into their hotel, the New York New York. It was an enormous Casino Hotel hybrid with several floors of entertainment for all ages. The building was themed after New York City and housed several small-scale replicas of the city's countless attractions. Shizuka glanced around the lobby, raising a brow.
"New York smells like a big oil spill. This place smells like the inside of an ashtray." She mumbled.
"Okay, we've got a few errands to run before leaving town in the morning. I'll get us a room with the cash Mr. Joestar left us. We're already running low, and we've got thousands of miles to go. Marina, take Shizuka and go to the bank. See if you can have some of your money wired overnight. Remember, this city is enormous. Don't go anywhere alone. The buddy system will keep us alive." Ripley warned.
"You got it, chief." Shizuka gave a two-fingered salute.
"We'll be back in a jiffy." Marina waved her hand as they walked out of the lobby.
Pepsi was standing in front of a large television display near an assortment of garish looking couches. Some local news broadcast was on. Of course, "local" had a different meaning in a city the size of Las Vegas. The screen showed two men. One was presumably the host. He wore a typical black suit, slicked grey hair, and a bit of a scruffy neck. The guest was something else. He wore a very loud shade of red on nearly every part of his body. His jacket, which made it all the way to his ankles, was bold and brick. Its cufflinks were a dark velvet, and so was the collar. He wore a red and black tuxedo underneath, and a red top hat to boot. Add all of that onto a pure white head of shaggy hair with bangs nearly covering those green eyes, and you have the recipe for a class-A douchebag. He sat with one leg slung over the other, a dark red cane clenched between his grimy pale hands. He didn't look much older than twenty, so why did he need a cane? Pepsi just chuckled. Vegas was certainly beyond them.
"For those of you just joining us, I'm here with rising star Felix Felicis to discuss his meteoric ascent over the last few months. Felix, let me tell you, it's hard to make it in this city. Four months ago, you were eating expired ramen in a foreclosed apartment with twenty bucks to your name. Now, you own one of the largest mansions in Nevada. Your show sells out every single night of the week, including the weekends! How did you do it?"
Felix laughed, nodding as the question went on. "Thank you, Curt. It's simple, really. I see something, I visualize it, and then I make it happen." He spoke with the level of pretentious snobbery one would expect.
"Pffft." Pepsi shook their head. "See something, visualize it, and make it happen? The first two steps are literally the same thing."
"That is such an inspirational thought, Felix." Curt fawned over his guest, clearly ecstatic to even be in his presence. "I've done some digging into your career, and it seems like you've never made a single mistake. Even your boldest risks paid off in spades. Just tell us already, what's your secret?" He leaned in like a child.
"The thing about being Felix Felicis, Curt, is that it's a state of mind. There's no secret… I just wake up every day, put my pants on one leg at a time, and be myself. It's seeming to work just fine." His smile practically twinkled.
Pepsi's eyes had nearly rolled all the way down the street by that point. They were torn back to reality by the sound of Ripley snapping her fingers.
"Pepsi, over here. C'mon. There's gonna be a TV in our room." She called from across the lobby.
Ripley and Shirlie were already stepping into the elevator. She checked in quickly. Pepsi ran over and joined them, watching that strange man disappear from view as the elevator doors closed. Vegas sure had some interesting characters… The door opened, and they stepped into a long sprawling highway. As they searched for their room, Ripley felt a chill run up her spine.
"I think I've still got PTSD from the Hotel California… Being in a hallway like this again is really spooking me out."
She was used to Pepsi being unresponsive, but Shirlie seemed a little stiff too. The tall redhead was pale, and she seemed to be gripping her left arm tightly with her right hand. Pa-Pa-Power stood behind her, staring straight ahead. He looked... well... constipated? That was the only word that came to mind. Ripley waited until they got to the room to say anything. She unlocked the door, walking inside and taking a look around.
"Shirlie, do you sense anybody in here?" She asked, cautiously sliding the closet door open.
"No… Not in here. I'm definitely getting a lot of energy from the building though." She mumbled.
"Yeah, I noticed. Are you okay?" Ripley glanced over with concern.
"We usually avoid places like this. Shirlie doesn't handle the energy well. Too much shame, excitement, anger. It really bubbles up and creates a potent emotional gumbo for people like her." Pepsi explained.
"I see. Is there anything you need?"
"I just need to not be here anymore. That's not really an option, so I'll try and sleep." Shirlie fell back onto the bed with a groan.
"If she leaves the room, anything could happen. She could succumb to the building's intense will to gamble, or she might go completely fetal with shame." Pepsi sat beside their sister, rubbing her forehead with a frown. "Maybe you could get her some ice?"
"Absolutely. I'll be back in a minute." Ripley left the room and locked the door. When she stood alone in the hallway, it hit her.
She'd violated the buddy system.
"Aw, fuck me." She groaned, considering her options. She could demand that Pepsi and Shirlie pony up and walk down the hall with her, or she could just grab some ice. Perhaps it was the wrong decision, but Ripley opted for the latter.
The agent walked down the hall in search of an ice box. She sure found one, but it had a piece of paper labeled "Out of Order" taped to the door. Ripley rolled her eyes. It surely couldn't hurt to check another floor? Maybe she could even go to the lobby and save a few minutes of searching? That seemed alright. She approached the elevator, tapping the down button and waiting for it to arrive.
The elevator only had one woman inside. Ripley was hesitant. Perhaps she was paranoid, but wouldn't an elevator be the perfect place for an enemy to finish her off? The woman wasn't even looking at her. She was just typing away at her phone. Ripley felt a little silly… Not everyone was an enemy Stand User sent to kill them by Blondie. She sighed, stepping into the elevator and tapping the ground level button. After about a minute, the door slid open with a ding. Ripley stepped into the lobby, assaulted by the roaring sound of the casino located a little beyond the check-in area.
This hotel really had a fetish for gambling. There are opportunities to gamble right in the front door. You have to pass them by just to get a room. Then, beyond the front desk was the real casino. Ripley could smell it. She didn't possess Shirlie's empathy, but she'd been around long enough to know what shame smelled like. She felt sick to her stomach. Addiction ran in her family. Her mother was an alcoholic, and her father lost everything betting on ponies. She was susceptible to gambling. Because of that, she vowed to never touch it in her entire life. Ice. She just needed ice. The agent regulated her breathing as she approached the front desk.
As Ripley stood in line, she saw a group of people laughing on their way out of the casino. In the center of the group stood a stout little man. He was rocking back and forth with fat stacks in his hands. The big-boned man threw his head back joyously.
"Ahahaha! I win again! You can't stop Lenny!" He cheered, walking out of the lobby with a woman on each arm.
Ripley wrinkled her nose, looking away from the entrance to the casino. She had to resist it. Why was it even tempting to her? She'd never considered gambling in the past. For some reason, it just seemed rational to her in the moment. She felt like there was no way she'd lose. Of course, that was absurd. The entire point of a casino is to lose money. That's how they make a profit. You go there to lose. The agent shook her head, noticing that the line was progressing. She stepped closer to the front desk. As the wait droned on and on, Ripley couldn't help but grind her teeth together. More laughter could be heard from the casino. It dug into her brain. What was happening? She just needed to focus.
After another grueling minute, Ripley arrived at the front desk.
"Hello, one of my friends is feeling sick. The ice machine on my floor is broken, and I was hoping to get some down here? Maybe even an ice pack?" She asked politely.
Before the woman at the desk could answer, the phone rang. She raised her index finger, picking up the phone. Ripley tapped her foot, shifting around restlessly as the woman spoke for ages. Finally, the worker pulled herself away from the phone for a minute.
"Ma'am, we're absolutely swamped right now. I can't find out which ice machines work. If you go into the casino, you can use this drink voucher for a cup of ice. I'm sorry that I couldn't be of more assistance." She slid a piece of paper over to Ripley.
The agent kept her displeasure in check, never one to take out her anger on helpless employees. She grabbed the voucher, nodding her head. "Thank you."
She was about to head back to the elevator in defeat. Going into the casino was just a bad idea. Shirlie would have to take some of the headache medication they picked up at a gas station. Ripley let out a sigh as she pressed the "up" button. She crossed her arms, glancing over at the casino one last time. The door slid open. Right before she could step in, she felt a strange presence behind her. Ripley's eyes darted back, and she saw a woman looming over her shoulder.
The woman wasn't exactly a giant, but most people seemed that way next to Ripley's humble 5"1 frame. The agent was immediately suspicious. She didn't step into the elevator. Instead, she turned around to face the new arrival. The woman in question had light brown skin with a white afro. She wore a plain white tee shirt with the words "choking hazard" printed onto the chest. Below the words was an arrow pointing down toward her crotch. Ripley couldn't help but cringe a bit at the crude choice of clothing. Aside from her odd shirt, she also wore silver earrings shaped like extended middle fingers. They dangled about two inches from her earlobes, reflecting the bright overhead lights like works of confusing art. For pants, she wore a pair of tiny booty shorts and long stockings that tucked snugly into hot pink flip flops.
Ripley raised a brow, taking a moment to really appreciate the woman's sense of fashion.
"Can I help you?" She finally asked, tilting her head.
The woman laughed, resting a hand on her modest chest as she allowed her head to fall back in a condescending display. "Oh honey, it's what I can do for you…."
Ripley turned away and walked right into the elevator. She really wasn't in the mood for any wacky Vegas parlor tricks. Before the door could close, the oddly dressed woman stumbled in after her.
"Woah, woah woah! That's so cold of you! Colder than ice." She frowned, wiping away fake tears. "Speaking of… I hear you're in the market for some chilly cubes?"
"What the actual fuck is the matter with you, lady?" Ripley asked bluntly.
She recoiled in what looked like physical pain after that. "Ouch! You're colder than I thought! Maybe you should just put your chilly little fingers on your friend's forehead? That oughta get the job done! Much better than..." She pulled an entire bag of ice out of her pants. "These."
Ripley's eyes focused on the ice. It wasn't the largest, maybe the size of a Doritos bag. Why the hell was this crazy bitch keeping ice in her pants? Did Ripley even want it? Of course, she could always just keep the ice and ditch the bag. The agent narrowed her eyes as she leaned against the elevator's wall.
"You're adorable. What do you want for it? I don't have any drugs." Ripley mumbled.
"Wow, racist much?" The woman shook her head.
"Excuse me?" Ripley questioned in utter disbelief. "What the hell's your issue?"
This caused the woman to erupt into thunderous laughter. "God damn! You take everything so seriously! No need to keep those cheeks clenched all the time! Let yourself go! C'mon, c'mon! You're a star, baby. Look at you! Chiseled, sharp, gorgeous… You're the entire package! Have some confidence!"
Ripley felt a shiver run down her spine. This woman's words were really getting to her. She couldn't put her finger on it, but they felt so empowering. She felt like her body was engulfed in a warm, tender embrace. What was happening? She bit her lip, sinking against the wall a bit.
"What's your name, doll? I'm Estelle." She stepped closer, lifting Ripley's chin with careful fingers.
"R-Ripley…" She felt like her body was lighter than before.
"Well, R-Ripley, I think you should really stand upright. A woman like you needs confidence. Confidence, confidence, confidence." She snapped her fingers three times. "You need big dick energy."
"The hell's that?" She mumbled, unable to look away from Estelle's eyes.
"It's a state of mind. The confidence of someone who knows they've got something good! Why're you going upstairs so early in the evening? You're in Vegas! Go win some money. Get your girlfriend something nice." She purred.
"Girlfriend?" Ripley came to her senses, if just for a moment.
"Well, by the way you're looking at me, you're definitely batting for the right team. Which leads me to believe your girlfriend is upstairs. She's who the ice is for, right?" Estelle raised a brow.
"Not exactly. It's complicated. I don't really have one. Just someone who might be? Why am I talking about this with you? Gimme the ice or don't." She pulled her face away from Estelle's hand.
"I'll tell you what, shorty. We'll play a little game for it." She slid her hand behind her back once more. It returned with thirteen cards moments later. "The game is simple… You guess whether the card I draw is between ace and five, or six and king."
Ripley thought for a moment. One option had six cards, the other had eight. She'd be better off saying the card was between six and king. "Okay, deal."
Estelle licked her lips. She took all thirteen cards in one hand, shuffling them expertly with her tricky fingers. Ripley watched in awe. This woman clearly knew what she was doing. When she finished, the woman clasped twelve cards in her palm, holding one between her knuckles.
"Okay, Ripley. What's it gonna be? What group is this card in?"
Ripley felt a fire light in her stomach. She was swept away in a spur of unbelievable confidence. She'd never been more certain about anything in her entire life. Even though she didn't get a single glance at the card, she knew the answer in her heart. Not only that, but she could do one better.
"You're holding an ace." She crossed her arms with a grin.
Estelle raised her brow in skepticism. "That's not what I asked. Is it between the ace and five, or the six and king?"
"I'm telling you that it's an ace. That's my final answer. I'll put it all on the line. The odds are fine with me." Ripley doubled down.
The taller woman puckered her lips in thought, rolling her head around and cracking her neck. She rested the card against her lips, taking the card with her teeth. Then, she lifted up the twelve in her palm. She swiftly took the first, resting it face-up on the back of her hand. It was a king. She flipped through another ten cards, none of which were aces. Ripley wasn't even breathing anymore, completely taken by the tense display. Finally, she placed the second to last card down. It was a three… That just left the card between Estelle's teeth, and the last card in her hand. One of them was an ace.
"Do it. Show me." Ripley finally exhaled, panting with adrenaline.
Estelle revealed the last card. It was a jack. That meant the card between her teeth was an ace. Ripley was elated. She threw her hands into the air, screaming jubilantly. Estelle took the ace into her fingers, handing it to the shorter woman.
"Well, would you look at that? The pretty thing flashed some big dick energy, and suddenly everything's going her way…"
Ripley took the card. It had a bit of the woman's lipstick on it. She just looked up at Estelle with a big grin. "Pay up, please. I think I've won a bag of ice."
"You know… I think that ace is your good luck charm. Why don't you keep it?" The stranger stepped away, tossing the bag toward Ripley.
The agent caught her prize, eying it skeptically. "Something doesn't add up… Why were you hanging out in the lobby with a bag of ice?" She narrowed her eyes.
Estelle raised her brow. There was an awkward silence. Neither woman said anything until the elevator dinged loudly. The silver door slid open. Ripley didn't budge. She just glared at the stranger.
"Pretty weird way to spend your night in Vegas, huh? Unless…" She stepped closer. "Maybe you were waiting for me? Maybe you assumed we'd end up here after that crash? It's the biggest city in the area, after all. Makes sense that you'd wait for us here."
The taller woman didn't say anything. Instead, she just started laughing. It was a dry, throaty laugh. Her body began to emit a distinct golden shine. Ripley recognized it right away. That was Stand energy! Estelle was an enemy Stand User!
"So what?" The woman countered. "I know what you did to Veronica. You think I'd be stupid enough to pick a fight? I'm in Vegas because I live here. My brother and I moved in about four months ago. Do I need permission to hang out in my own town?"
"So, you admit you're with Blondie, then? You're a member of the shadow organization Red Eden?" Ripley clenched her fists. She still blamed herself for being totally unaware of a second organization operating right under her nose at the Washington D.C. location.
"And if I am? Look at you. You're Ripley. Not only that, but you seem to be on the top of your game… Guessing that ace like that really spooked me. I'd never fight the dreaded Joestars." Her smile was condescending, and her words meant nothing.
Ripley slammed her hand against the elevator's control panel. Electric Lady sent surges of powerful energy through it, flipping the overhead light off and slamming the door shut. She then proceeded to kick Estelle in her center mass; slamming her against the far wall of the compact space. Her muddy boot rested against the woman's stomach, and she kept her pinned there.
"What's your angle, Estelle?" She shouted, lightning particles sparking from her body and lighting up the dark elevator.
"Oh my… Look at you! Your allies were just down the hall, yet you pick a fight all alone? Ripley, baby, your Stand can't even manifest into a body. It's purely a utility. Do you really want to square off in such tight quarters?" Estelle's eyes had a dangerous flare to them.
"Listen to yourself. You think a total control of electricity is just a utility?" Ripley growled.
Without a moment to spare, power cables tore their way out of the elevator's control panel. Estelle could only see between sparks and flashes. The wires and circuitry that operated the elevator were all coursing with pure electricity. Ripley's Electric Lady could manipulate their flow to her will. Not only that, but she could also infuse the cables with even more energy. When taken to the extreme, she could control live wires as if she possessed telekinesis. They immediately coiled around Estelle's neck. She screamed in pain as the cords singed her skin. Ripley had her hands in her pockets, keeping her foot against the woman's stomach. She was immune to electricity, yet another perk of her 'weak ability.'
"You said you had a brother! Where is he!? Is he a Stand User too? What's his ability?" She demanded.
Estelle's body convulsed uncontrollably as she was shocked by the live wires around her neck. Ripley made sure it wasn't enough to be fatal. She had a great degree of control when in a proper state of mind. When she didn't get an answer, she caused the wires to tighten.
"NOW, please!" She demanded.
A golden arm struggled to manifest beside Estelle's body. Despite her best efforts, she was in too weak a state to properly summon her Stand. After another few seconds, she slid down against the wall and landed on her ass. Ripley grunted, squatting down and slapping her in the face.
"Ah-ah-ah, don't go passing out from the pain. I need you to tell me everything about that brother of yours. Maybe we could even call him? Using your phone, of course." Ripley had unmistakable arrogance dripping from her tone. She was certain that Estelle had been thoroughly defeated.
The taller woman's eyes rolled back into her head, and she started to drool. Ripley raised a brow. Had she used too many watts? It would be bad news if Estelle died before giving up the name of her accomplice. Ripley slapped the woman once more to no effect.
"Shit… C'mon, wake up." She took both hands and rested them on Estelle's chest. Then, she sent a jolt to the woman's heart in an attempt to jump-start her system.
Within a single second, Estelle's Stand fully appeared. Ripley didn't even have time to react. Her eyes widened, and a reflection of the golden fist plunging toward her could be seen in those brown orbs. The Stand sent her flying to the other side of the elevator. Her ears were ringing, and she could barely see. Taking such a blow directly to the head completely destroyed your sense of balance for a short time. She stumbled to her feet, resting a hand against the wall and searching for Estelle. Her eyes darted up, only to see the woman smiling at her from the maintenance hatch.
"Oh honey, you had me. I was toast. But you went and got cocky. Too much of that big dick energy, hmmm? Toodaloo, sweetheart."
Ripley knew it was true. She let herself get carried away. Why'd she take the gamble of reviving her enemy? Was big dick energy real? That's when it occurred to her: Big Dick Energy was a Stand! She was under the effect of Estelle's ability! Why would someone's Stand make their own enemy confident? Surely the benefits would be outweighed by the negatives? A confident foe would be less likely to falter. She didn't have time to think about it. Estelle was getting away!
The agent climbed up through the maintenance hatch of the elevator and found herself in the shaft. Estelle had forced a door open one floor above the elevator. Ripley didn't rely on Stands for physical prowess. She trained her body every single day. Because of this, she was more than capable of climbing her way up in seconds. Electric Lady forced the door to slide open, and she jumped into the hallway. Estelle was gone, but Ripley noticed a door closing down the hall. Upon inspection, she found it was the main stairway's entrance. She swung the door open and listened for footsteps.
No luck… Too many people were using the stairwell. Estelle's steps blended in with various conversations, high heels, sneakers and dress shoes. Ripley wouldn't be able to discern Estelle's direction by sound alone. That is, until she remembered something dire.
The bitch was wearing flip flops.
When she listened for the sound of flip flops constantly slamming against someone's heels, it was easy to pinpoint. The sound was growing further and further up the stairwell! Ripley sprinted as fast as she could. She bumped into a few people on her way, but there was more at stake than civility. The flip flops continued all the way to the top of the stairwell. Ripley arrived just in time to see the door slam shut. The agent barreled out the door and onto the roof. When she got her bearings, she could see Estelle clear as day.
Somehow, Estelle had made her way to a completely different section of the roof. There wasn't any direct path to take. If there was, Ripley certainly couldn't find it. She gritted her teeth. That bitch thought she could get away? No way in hell. She got a running start and sprinted directly toward the railing. Estelle grinned ear to ear. Sure enough, Ripley would wipe that smile right off her face in just a few seconds. The agent jumped up onto the railing, kicking off of it and lunging across the rooftops. She felt a moment of pure Zen. She was so badass. Who else would be able to accomplish something so intense? Nobody. She had Big Dick Energy.
The moment that phrase came to mind, she felt her stomach drop. Then came the rude awakening. Despite being so sure that she could effortlessly make the Jump, Ripley came up about twenty feet short. She plummeted down, gravity suddenly seeming so real and cruel. The agent slammed into a lower part of the roof, slowly sliding down the slanted incline as she reeled in pain. With a fall like that, she'd be lucky to walk away without a broken rib. Her luck was about to run out, though. Before she could recover from the sharp landing, her body fell once again. This time, there wasn't anything close enough to land on without sustaining fatal injuries. She felt all of the confidence drain from her body in that moment.
She was going to die.
Somehow, her body moved on its own. Her fighting spirit roared deep inside, and she felt the strength to keep on trying. Her eyes scanned the area for something, anything that could be useful. That's when it hit her. Powerlines! Ripley's control of electrically charged objects grew weaker with distance. However, that could be offset by the raw power radiating from any given thing. Power lines carried much more electricity than petty elevator buttons. She'd have to time it just right. As she fell closer and closer to the ground, her eyes fixed on a pole that seemed close enough. She extended her hand, gritting her teeth as Electric Lady influenced the power inside. After about a second of tugging, the cord was torn from its pole and flew straight toward Ripley. Typically, a powerline cable wouldn't be durable enough to support a grown woman. Ripley supplemented this by infusing it with even more energy. She had quite a bit to work with, considering she was basically touching the city's power grid. She let out a cry of fury, sending enough electricity through the cable to force the other end to static cling to the pole. With these measures taken, it could just barely support her weight as she swung along the cable.
The agent held on tight as she soared right for the enormous pole. She waited until the moment was just right, shifting her momentum and letting go of the cable. She slammed into the pole, clinging to it with electricity. It wasn't enough to stick like Spiderman, but she was clingy enough to slide safely to the ground. Electric Lady might be situational, but it's not wise to mess with her next to power lines. She felt blessed just to have two feet on the ground again. That could have gone so bad. Ripley underestimated the effect of Estelle's Stand. Confidence wasn't always an advantage. Big Dick Energy seemed to make its victim cocky to a fault. She'd have to be much more careful. Otherwise, she'd end up falling right into another trap. It wouldn't be wise to plan on surviving the next one.
The agent looked up at the roof. She could barely make out the silhouette of Estelle from such a distance, but it was clearly walking away from the edge of the room. Her enemy clearly witnessed the stunt she pulled to survive. That meant an element of surprise was out of the question. She was getting pretty sore as her injuries from the initial fall began to set in. This needed to end quickly. Where would Estelle go? Her ability seemed to activate only in specific circumstances. She wouldn't have done that entire guessing game just to waste time. That meant Big Dick Energy could likely be limited to one target at a time. Estelle wouldn't be stupid enough to attack the rest of the squad. No, she planned on taking them out individually. That's why they should have honored the buddy system!
Ripley needed to get back inside. The powerline she'd dangled from was on the opposite side of the road. That left an annoyingly busy street between her and the hotel. She trudged over to the crossing lane and waited for the signal to walk. It was taking forever! She must have waited for well over a minute. The agent didn't need this. She looked both ways to see how much traffic was coming. None of the cars were very close. She'd be able to cross easily.
She stepped onto the road and immediately heard the roaring cry of multiple car horns. Her eyes widened, and she stumbled back onto the sidewalk. A car swerved, nearly slamming into another as they all struggled to maintain their course. Ripley was flat on her ass, panting in confusion as the traffic settled. The cars were so far away! How did they close the distance so quickly? That's when she realized: Big Dick Energy was still affecting her! Not only that, but it seemed to be getting worse. Her perception of what seemed doable was completely skewed. Ripley started to second guess every possible movement. She hated Stands that messed with minds. How were you supposed to fight someone when your brain was malfunctioning?
Ripley stumbled to her feet and hugged the pole by the crosswalk. After another minute the sign began flashing a "walk" symbol. She was about to go, but something worried her. Mere seconds after the sign said it was safe to walk, flashing red numbers appeared. She watched as they counted down from thirty. When the sign reached zero, the traffic lights would turn green. If she was still in the middle of the road after that, she could die. Was thirty seconds enough time to cross the road? She had no way of knowing.
The agent felt like she was operating with an entirely foreign set of rules and physics. Her heart pounded as she watched the numbers flash across the street. Eventually, they hit zero. Her opportunity had passed. She cursed under her breath, shifting anxiously as she tried to formulate a plan. That's when an opportunity fell right into her lap. A man was walking up to the crosswalk! He stood beside Ripley, staring down at his phone in boredom as the red hand flashed across the way. This was her big chance. She would just moderate her pace to match this pedestrian's.
As the sign switched to "walk," Ripley was distressed to find the man wasn't moving. He was just staring at his phone. She gritted her teeth, feeling like she might explode. What, was she supposed to shove him? Would it be uncivil to let him know the sign changed? She couldn't even tell anymore. Reality had been flipped on its head. She tapped her foot anxiously. Was she being unreasonable? The sign had to stay on long enough for people to walk across. If she sprinted as fast as she could, she'd obviously make it. She was too caught up in her own head. You have to take risks to win battles. Ripley took a deep breath, kicking off the ground and sprinting across the walkway.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She let out a battle cry as her shoes slammed against the painted asphalt. To an onlooker, this would seem ridiculous. To Ripley, however, it was one of the most intense experiences of her life. She was laying everything on the line to win. When she made it to the other side, she kicked off of the wall of the hotel and did a flip. She stuck the landing, screaming out in victorious glee. Sure, people would think she was on some sort of upper, but she didn't care. Estelle was going down. Ripley confidently shoved the hotel's front doors open and strutted inside. As she passed through the entrance, her eyes drifted to all of the slot machines and gambling tables. The agent hitched her breath… The casino was bad enough, so why did they need to have gambling in the lobby?
She watched as eager partiers threw their cash at tellers with no regard for seeing its return. Her feet had stopped moving. She was in a trance. The slot machines spun and rang with triumphant sound effects even when no one was operating them… The sound of a cash register going ca-ching constantly pierced the agent's ears. Her mind began to wander dangerously in the direction of gambling. She had over a thousand dollars cash in her wallet, after all. Besides, she was smart! Smarter than most. Not only that, but she was lucky! Had anyone else in the room just fallen off of a building and walked away without a scratch?
Ripley approached one of the slot machines. She ran her hand along the cold exterior and stared at the colorful symbols on each wheel. Some part of her knew that this was a trap. Estelle knew that Ripley would have to walk through the tempting entrance to get inside. The agent clenched her fists and looked away from the machines. She could just play once. If she swore to only play once, what was really the harm? A few dollars? Then, she could get back to it.
With tentative caution, Ripley paid a few bucks into the machine and pulled the lever. She watched the three wheels spin continually for about twenty seconds. The first wheel on the left clicked into place. Ripley hitched her breath when she saw the classic "7" on display. Her eyes darted to the middle, and a moment later it stopped as well. Another "7!" She took a step back from the machine, eyes wide in anticipation. Another "7!" Jackpot! Victory! Winner! The machine began to boom with thunderous applause and over-the-top sound effects as all three 7's flashed repeatedly.
She couldn't help but jump with joy! She'd won! She actually won! Money poured out of the machine, and she quickly stuffed her wallet full with it. Ripley was riding high at that point. She felt completely unstoppable! The agent practically danced into the lobby as she searched for Estelle. There was definitely a bit of arrogance in her stride. Whatever stroke of misfortune that got her hurt outside was completely gone! There was no way she'd lose to Estelle now.
Before she could stroll right into the casino, her burner phone began to ring. She raised a brow, lifting it out of her pocket and checking the number. Marina was calling. Ripley grinned, flipping open the cheap phone.
"Talk to me, baby." She walked up to the casino's entrance, flashing her ID for the man standing in front of the door.
Marina was quiet for a moment before letting out a confused laugh. "Errrr, hello to you too. Jojo and I got some money. It wasn't exactly above board. In fact, it felt like something straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon."
"You got the money? Perfect. That's why you're my #2, dollface." Ripley purred into the phone.
The blonde coughed a bit on the other line, either confused or flustered. It was hard to tell. "Agent, are you with the twins? Good God..." She ran a hand through her hair, clearing her throat. She was completely embarrassed at the idea of people hearing this conversation.
"Nah, I got attacked by a Stand User. Don't worry, it's totally taken care of. Just get back here whenever you can. Bring that ass with you." Without another word, Ripley flipped the phone shut and shoved it into her pocket.
That went perfectly.
Ripley had never felt better in her life. After nailing that conversation and wooing Marina to a point of babbling adoration, she was completely ready to take down her enemy. The agent prowled into the casino. Estelle had to be somewhere inside. She knew that Ripley was apprehensive about gambling. It took so much convincing to get her to play that silly card game, after all. The cocky bitch thought she was safe surrounded by slot machines? Hell no. Ripley was on a streak!
Her eyes scanned the busy array of flashing lights and desperate faces in search of her prey. Then, by some insane stroke of luck, she saw Estelle leaning against a slot machine on the far side of the room. Ripley quickly made her way toward the flip-flop tramp with a big smile on her face. However, as she grew closer, she noticed a large line of people standing in her way. They were waiting to play at a large roulette table. Ripley bit her lip. She was boxed into an aisle of machines. Going around the line of gamblers would require backtracking and losing sight of Estelle. There had to be an easier way. Come to think of it, there were pretty big gaps between each person in line. She could make it through easily.
Ripley walked right up to the line and attempted to slide between two women. She slammed into them both, causing them to spill their drinks all over their dresses.
"Oh my god!" The brunette cried out.
"Watch where you're going, damn! You just ruined my dress!" The blonde growled.
Ripley stumbled back in confusion. There was more than enough room to slip on between the girls right up until she closed the distance and tried. That's when it hit her, Big Dick Energy was still cursing her perception. How could she have forgotten? The slot machines just gave her such a rush! She lost sight of Estelle's deadly trick. Now she had two tipsy partiers yelling at her about their limited-edition dresses.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." Ripley stammered.
"Sorry? Are you drunk or something? Gosh! Get out of here!" The brunette crossed her arms with a huff.
A large man approached the women with his arms spread wide. His shirt read "security" in bold white text over his defined pecks. He placed an arm around each of the distressed women.
"Girls, girls, what's the problem?" He cooed.
The brunette pointed right at Ripley. "This woman's completely wasted! She ran right into me and Courtney and spilled her drinks all over our dresses!" She whined in a little baby voice.
"Wait, my drinks?" Ripley raised a brow.
The man let out a roar of anger. "You spilled alcohol on my precious girls!? Courtney and Penelope are six weeks sober! How dare you cover them with their biggest temptation!?"
Penelope fired a quick wink at Ripley. Apparently, she'd caught them on a "cheat night."
"Oh, Big Cat, she got it all over my dress! How am I supposed to wear this ever again? It'll never stop smelling like booze!" Courtney cried, throwing herself onto the man's shoulder dramatically.
"Don't you worry, you precious little sunflower. Big Cat is going to buy you a new dress. He's going to buy you both six new dresses! One for each clean week! Because he's so proud of you both!" She brought them both in for a kiss on the head. The young women wailed in joy, squirming around in his muscular arms.
Ripley had enough. "Listen, this is cute and all. Addiction's a disease, and I'm proud of you both. But I'm kind of in a hurry."
Big Cat somehow stood up even taller after that. "CUTE!? Nothing is cute about my little pillow princesses kicking their addiction! You've got a lot to answer for, young lady! Lucky for you, Big Cat would never lay a finger on a woman. Look at these hands!" He shoved them right up in Ripley's business. "I'm so big! I could clobber you with one pinky! I could ruin your entire life! I will destroy you if you ever belittle these tiny barrels of goodness in front of me again! Say you're sorry!"
Jesus Christ, what was this guy's deal?
"Alright, alright! I'm sorry! I won't disrespect your girls again, Big Cat." Ripley tried to look around them and see if Estelle was still there. She groaned, finding only an unoccupied slot machine in her place.
"Good! Then you're free to go!" Big Cat crossed his beefy arms, veins protruding from them with manly force.
"Wait, Big Cat! What about the money?" Penelope whined.
"The money?" Ripley shouted in disbelief.
"Yes, you lying cheat! The money you stole from us! We had five hundred dollars cash, and it fell onto the floor when you ran into us! You're a pickpocket!" Courtney played along with her genius friend.
"P-P-P-P-P-P-P-PICK POCKET!?" Big Cat screamed at the top of his lungs. He flexed so hard that the sleeves on his tight black tee completely burst off. The shirt tore around the stomach as well, revealing his shocking washboard abs.
"Holy shit, Big Cat's ripped." Ripley stepped back cautiously.
"You stole money from my perfect little porcelain dolls? These girls are all I have! They're my everything! I hate that they have to spend even a single second in a place as awful and immoral as a casino! But they come here to see me! Our schedules never line up, so they always drop by and visit me while I'm on shift here! They're braving this pervasive, disgusting wasteland just to put a smile on my face! These girls are shining beacons in my dark, empty world! A lighthouse in the cloudy, stormy night! And you stole money from them? You've lost the protection of womanhood! I need to avenge the honor of my little poppy seeds! Shirts off, right now! We're duking it out!"
Ripley's eyes were wide like dinner plates at that point. "Uhhh, wow. I'm gonna keep my shirt on, Big Cat. If it's all the same to you."
"So be it! Get ready, because here I come!" He shouted, flexing one more time and shedding the remaining bits and pieces of his shirt. They were like training weights. Once he removed them, he moved with more speed and precision than any man should possess.
The agent rolled her eyes, quickly shifting into a fighting stance. She'd been trained by some of the best combat specialists in the world. She was the head of security for the Speedwagon Foundation's D.C. location. She-
"HYYYYYYYYYYYAH!" Big Cat screamed, punching her right in the face.
...She was done for. Ripley fell flat on her back from one single hit. She wasn't ready for Big Cat's strength. He was just a normal person. How could he do that!? She was trained specifically in taking on bigger targets. Somehow, he took her by complete surprise. She was being too cocky.
Thunderous booms filled the aisle as Big Cat stomped down right in front of Ripley. He crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Forgive me, you sweet cherry blossoms. I never wanted you to see me like that."
"Biiiiiiiiiiig Cat! That was so cool!" Courtney cooed.
"Yeah! You like, totally stood up for us!" Penelope giggled.
"Now get our money." Courtney slid her finger across her neck threateningly.
Ripley knew she couldn't fight back. Maybe if she had anticipated his strength, but not anymore. She just fumbled for her wallet and grabbed a wad of bills. The agent threw it forward, letting her head fall back in exhaustion. She was completely dazed from the hit. Not to mention her injuries from falling down earlier…
Big Cat seemed satisfied with this boon. He took the cash and counted it carefully. "Okay, let's go, girls. Let me get you each a sprite."
"Yay! Sprite!" Courtney cheered as they were led away by Big Cat.
"Sprite is right!" Penelope added.
"Abstinence is common sense!" Courtney giggled.
Ripley just stared up at the ceiling with foggy vision. Estelle was one dangerous enemy. She just needed to hit you with her ability and wait for you to get yourself killed. Whether it was jumping off a roof, walking in front of oncoming traffic, or picking fights with inhuman brutes. There needed to be some method to the madness, though. Why was she getting lucky sometimes, and totally failing later on? There was a pattern, she just needed to see it.
She let her head roll to the side. This gave her a view of the casino's entrance. She saw those iconic pink flip flops from before. They belonged to Estelle! Ripley needed to get up. The only way to survive was to defeat the User! Otherwise she'd try to get into a fight with a vending machine or something and die a brutal death! She managed to pull herself up and sprint for the exit.
Estelle was walking casually down the busy sidewalks of Las Vegas. She was deliberately keeping a good distance from Ripley. Her goal was to bait the woman around into dangerous situations until she inevitably got herself killed. It seemed to nearly work inside the hotel, but wasn't quite enough. No matter, she'd get her sooner or later. The tall woman got out her portable mirror and checked her makeup as she walked. Her eyes drifted along the reflection and eventually landed on Ripley. It seemed the agent had made her way out of the hotel in one piece. Not only that, but she was concealing something in her shirt. This intrigued Estelle. Could it be a weapon? Maybe she'd finish the girl off herself. She took a sharp turn into an alley and put a bit of distance between herself and the pursuer.
Ripley stumbled into the alley about ten seconds later. It seemed like even walking was a challenge now. She treated her limbs like foreign appendages. Big Dick Energy was bending her perception to extreme levels. She could barely judge the distance of an individual step! This would be too easy. Estelle was about to win.
"I'm surprised you managed to follow me, Ripley. Most people would have died a long time ago. You're one dangerous gal. Unfortunately, my opponent's skill means nothing to me. It's just another tool to turn against them." Estelle licked her lips.
"You're right." Ripley shouted across the alley. "I've completely given up. In fact, I only have one more plan to beat you, and it's a long shot."
The agent revealed what was being hidden in her shirt. It was a gun! She'd picked it off of some drunk cowboy-looking piece of work while he was throwing up in a trash can outside. Vegas really was the absolute worst place on Earth. Estelle's eyes lit up with a dangerous sense of lust as she saw the gun.
"Ripley, dear, you can't really mean to shoot me? Do you think you'll hit me? Or will you hold the gun backwards and shoot yourself? I'd be careful with those confident hands of yours."
"You're exactly right. There's no way I'd hit you." Ripley pointed the gun at her enemy with fierce eyes. "In fact, I'm completely confident that I'd hit you right between the eyes… That's how I know your ability is still working. I can't rely on my senses. My training, my experience… All of it is just putty in your Stand's claws. No matter what, I'm going to miss."
"Now you're getting it! So why don't you just turn it on yourself? You've already admitted defeat, after all. Make my job easier. Go out on your own terms like the badass you are!" Estelle licked her upper teeth, trembling with insatiable bloodlust.
"I'll do you one better..." Ripley tossed the gun across the alley. It landed way off target, but was still closer to Estelle than herself. "Shoot me yourself. I bet you're afraid of getting close, aren't you? Use that, and stand as far back as you like."
Estelle didn't like this one bit. She prowled a little closer and examined the gun. "Hmmm… I don't believe you. I can see it in your eyes, Ripley. You still have a bit of that fire left. You think you've won."
"That's just the Big Dick Energy talking. C'mon, sweet cheeks, how could I possibly beat you? You explained it perfectly. Anything I try will be miscalculated. Just shoot me." Ripley stepped closer.
The taller woman swiftly grabbed the gun with her Stand. It phased into her own hand. Estelle examined the gun carefully. She aimed it up into the air and fired. Everything seemed normal. Ripley hadn't tampered with it. She took one last look at the handgun before turning it on the agent. Ripley glared into her eyes. Even in that moment, she didn't seem to be afraid. Big Dick Energy was really working its magic.
"You know… It took me longer than I'd like to admit, but I finally understand your ability." Ripley spoke calmly.
"Oh, do you? There's nothing to get, sweetie. It's unbeatable. The only thing you're getting is a bullet in the head, right now."
Estelle pulled the trigger. However, instead of a crash or boom, there was just a sad little pop. She raised a brow. "Huh?"
"Big Dick Energy has to draw people in somehow, doesn't it?" Ripley smirked. "Your Stand has two abilities. First, it grants the victim unbelievable luck. That way they're primed for arrogance. Then, it skews their perception and causes them to act recklessly. However, they can be scared back into reason. Once the victim realizes that they've been duped by your Stand, they can act around it. That's when the wave of luck comes in. Like me surviving my fall off the roof, or winning with the slot machine. Every time I came to my senses, your Stand pulled me back under like a shark."
The taller woman couldn't help but laugh. She examined the gun, shaking her head in disbelief. "You used the luck to your advantage and forced the gun to be a dud? I have to admit, you're smart, Ripley. Too smart. That's why you need to be taken out. Unfortunately for you, luck's run out," She readied the gun once more.
"I don't need luck anymore, Estelle. I have science on my side now."
"Quiet! Say goodnight." Estelle pulled the trigger.
There was certainly a boom this time. Unfortunately, it wasn't because a bullet fired. Instead, the entire gun burst to pieces in Estelle's hand. She cried out in surprise as shrapnel lodged in her chest. She stumbled back, blood dripping from her chest, her arm, and her face. There was red-hot metal stuck deep in her flesh. All she could do was scream. The gun -or what was left of it- fell onto the concrete. She held her face in confusion, trying desperately to pluck pieces of shrapnel from her torn skin.
Ripley stepped forward confidently. She still had a bit of a wobble due to Big Dick Energy, but her confidence was definitely earned this time.
"I wasn't just counting on a dud, Estelle. I wanted you to fire a squib load." Ripley explained with a grin.
A squib load is when a bullet doesn't have enough force to properly fire. This can be caused by manufacturing errors with the bullets. It's typically the result of insufficient powder in the firing process. It can also be due to misshapen or improperly sized rounds firing out of a barrel that can't accommodate their deformities. No matter the reason, it's always the same result. Instead of the bullet firing as normal, the gunman hears a distinctive pop. It almost sounds like a sad puff of air leaving the barrel. When this happens, it means that the bullet is lodged, and the gun can no longer be fired. If you cock the firearm and pull the trigger again, the bullets will collide inside the barrel. This can have any number of catastrophic results, but typically involves the gun blowing to pieces. In particularly violent squib loads, the gun can even burst into shrapnel and cause serious injury. The odds of a squib load are extremely low. Most seasoned gun owners have never even experienced one. However, it can happen with any type of firearm. That's why it's essential to listen for a pop.
The agent approached her enemy carefully, crossing her arms as she stood over the bleeding baddy.
"So, I have some questions for you now. If you cooperate, I'll get you an ambulance." She offered as her hands flickered with static energy. "If you don't, I might send a charge through each piece of metal embedded in your body until this alley smells like a campfire. So, what'll it be?"
Estelle shook her head. "No, please…" She whimpered.
"We're well past please, lady! You started this! I just wanted some damn ice! You mentioned a brother in town. Who is he? Is he a Stand User too?" She fell to her knees, straddling Estelle and lifting the woman's head up. "Talk to me!"
"No… I'm not talking. I'm not! Please! Don't!" Estelle thrashed uncontrollably.
Ripley raised a brow. It didn't seem like the woman was pleading with her. It appeared that Estelle was begging some third party to have mercy. The agent's eyes darted all around the alley. Were they followed? Was someone about to attack from the shadows.
"What're you talking about? I told you what you need to do. Just tell me who your brother is and I'll help you to the hospital." She shook the woman once more, feeling a little uneasy about the turn of events.
"NO! I WASN'T TATTLING! I WASN'T! PLEASE, HAVE MERCY! PLEASE, MOM!" Estelle's eyes were wide and wild.
Ripley let go of her and backed away with a start. She felt incredibly paranoid. Something was definitely wrong. Electric Lady sent a surge of power through her body. If anyone tried to grab her, they'd be shocked to high hell.
Fortunately, no one was coming for Ripley. Estelle wasn't so lucky, though. As she trashed and screamed her body began to grow paler. Her brown skin shifted to tan, then peach… Eventually, it was paper white. Ripley watched in horror as Estelle seemed to lose all hue and turn into a shell of her former self. The woman's skin began to morph and shift around her forehead. Some odd symbol appeared. It began to let out a high-pitched whine, resonating with a maroon glow. Estelle was screaming bloody murder, her words losing all meaning and cohesion. Soon, she was just sobbing.
"What the hell's going on? Estelle! What's happening to you?" Ripley couldn't let the woman suffer so much, even after what happened. She fell to her knees and held the woman up.
Estelle looked into her eyes with desperation. It was horrible, because Ripley couldn't do anything to save her. Whatever was causing this was completely beyond her grasp. Estelle grabbed Ripley's collar, trying to mouth something with her trembling lips. It was too late, though. Her body crumbled into white powder. First, there were cracks and fractures. Like a statue, she fell apart. Once she was in pieces, they began to disperse as tiny white grains. The eyes were the last thing to go, screaming silently into Ripley's very soul until they collapsed into oblivion. After that, the woman was nothing more than a pile of powder on the asphalt.
Ripley leaned back, letting it slip through her fingers like sand. She didn't say anything. Words couldn't describe the somber emptiness she was experiencing. Instead, she just stood up and looked at the "corpse." She gave it a small bow, closing her eyes and paying her respects. With that, there was nothing more to do. Estelle had been backed into some sort of corner. Her only option was to give Ripley information. Because of that, she was killed by an unknown force. Did Blondie implement some failsafe into her agents after the close call with Wagner? No, that didn't seem right. Estelle was begging her Mother for mercy. What on Earth was going on?
She stumbled into the hotel room about ten minutes later with a bag of ice. The twins were sitting on one of the beds talking to each other when Ripley entered. She tossed the bag into Shirlie's lap. The redhead sat up and lifted the ice up to her forehead with confusion.
"You look like shit." Pepsi mumbled, tilting their head.
"And you feel like it too." Shirlie added.
"Thanks." Ripley sighed, sitting down in an armchair across from them.
"What happened…?" Pepsi asked after a brief silence.
"Stand attack. It's taken care of now." The agent groaned.
It was clear that Pepsi wanted to ask further questions, but Shirlie rested a hand on their arm. She shook her head, silently instructing Pepsi to leave it for the time being. Whatever Ripley experienced really shook her up. She needed time to process it. So, they all sat in silence for a good long while. None of them had much to say. Perhaps Pepsi and Shirlie were speaking to one another? Ripley wouldn't know if they were using Mist's shroud. She didn't really mind either way. She just let her head rest against the cushion as her consciousness drifted away.
...that is, until she remembered something important.
"Her brother!" Ripley shouted, sitting up straight and looking around.
This startled the twins, as they sprang to attention as well. At that very moment, the door was pushed open. All three of them shouted in surprise, only to see Marina and Shizuka standing in the doorway with equal shock.
"Woah, why are we yelling?" Marina raised a brow.
"You look like shit." Pepsi mumbled.
It was true. Both girls were tattered and scraped up. Shizuka had several cuts on her knees, a bit of blood on her elbow, and a bruise on her cheek. Marina didn't have any injuries, but her outfit was torn. Her hair was also a frayed mess.
"Thanks, Peppy. You really light up a room, you know that?" Marina sighed.
"So what happened to you?" Shirlie groaned. The energy in the room was totally out of whack.
Shizuka just gritted her teeth. It was clear that she still felt pretty angry about it. She lifted a poster into view from behind her back. It was a little torn up, but they could clearly see the contents. Pepsi even recognized the face from earlier. Shizuka threw the poster into the air and crossed her arms.
"What happened, Marina?" Shizuka spat.
"Felix fucking Felicis happened." Marina growled.
To be Continued…
