Fugo had been following Hol Horse around for the better half of the day at that point. He didn't have anywhere to go, and he also didn't find the idea of sticking around that shady hotel very appealing. The line of salt still lingered in the back of his mind. The rest of the day had been relatively mundane up to that point. Hol Horse reunited with countless members of his past. Friends from high school, old bosses, and even an uncle. They hadn't run into any direct family members yet. Come to think of it, the cowboy didn't seem like he was eager to run into any of them. Shouldn't his mother's house be the first stop on his list? Fugo had to assume that his family was either dead or dead to him. That wasn't any of his business.
There were a couple of quirks Fugo picked up on in regard to the town. Most of the residents were simple people. He didn't mean that in a demeaning way. The town had a population of around one-hundred citizens. They all held simple jobs that mostly focused on tourism and keeping the place running. There was only a single grocery store. It was the kind of town that was built for visitors more than its actual inhabitants. Fugo always found that kind of place to be rather depressing; like living in a bed and breakfast full time. He'd never be able to live in comfort knowing that absolute strangers were sleeping in his home. That would be doubly so if he were expected to cook them breakfast.
One more thing he picked up on was the true name of Hol Horse. He'd never really asked, but it made sense that the man's name wasn't Hol Horse. From what he could gather it was a nickname. His name was Hal, though Fugo couldn't tell if that was a first or last name. Either way, it was easy to figure out how the word "Hol" came from "Hal" with such a southern drawl.
Everyone was nice enough to Fugo, but it was clear that Hol Horse deserved the most attention. He'd been missing for so long, after all! He was practically a celebrity. They were sitting inside a local diner after traveling around nearly the entire town. Fugo was poking a salad around with a fork while Hol Horse did his best to demolish a half-pound hamburger.
"I wanna thank you again for letting me make this stop, Fugo. It means a lot." He wiped a large amount of grease from his scruffy chin.
The Italian sighed and nodded. "Anytime. You're taking a pretty big risk by traveling with me. Besides, there are worse ways to spend a day."
Despite Fugo's control it was obvious to tell that he'd seen better days. He was doing a surprisingly good job at repressing his anguish about Giorno. That was the first stage of grief. Denial. Hol Horse had been experiencing it too, but for a much different reason. They were kindred spirits, in a sense. Though Fugo intended to become a spirit himself by the end of his trip. He hoped that Hol Horse would live, but there were simply no guarantees when dealing with Blondie.
The man's one real hope was to properly control Purple Haze Distortion when the time came. His Stand was next to useless at that moment. Fugo was in too much distress with Giorno's death and the foreign environments. Purple Haze Distortion barely functioned on Fugo's best days, let alone a time filled with such misery. If he lost control in the middle of such a populated city, things could become disastrous. He didn't want to hurt anybody but Blondie, but his desire to kill her was so strong that he struggled to worry much about collateral.
Fugo's ears perked up for a moment when the diner's bell rang. Someone had entered. He leaned over to glance past Hol Horse and check it out. The Italian's eyes flashed with intrigue for a moment when he saw her. This wasn't a normal woman.
This woman was above average height, but not exceedingly so. Around 5'8, he'd wager. She had a build Fugo could only really describe as "fat and strong." He typically reserved that wording for men though, Fugo likely wouldn't say that out loud. She was rather bulky, and her belly hung just an inch or two over her belt. Goodness. Fugo had been so floored by her physique that he failed to notice the most obvious part. She was the sheriff! The woman had a large hat, a badge, a gun, and everything else one would expect.
Her sleeves were rolled up and buttoned at her elbows. This allowed Fugo to notice a bit of muscle definition on her arms. She was stout, but that didn't mean she didn't work out. Some people were just built bigger than most.
Despite her size, she was still a beautiful woman. Even wording it like that made Fugo feel rather impolite. She had sharp eyes, jet black hair, and a sizable chest. He wasn't exactly into that, but many men certainly were. He noticed a nametag located on her bust that read "Minerva." Perhaps he had been looking too long because their eyes met after another moment of staring. Fugo immediately slid back into his proper place and took a sip of his drink.
She walked over to their booth with her clicky cowboy boots and placed a hand on the top of Hol Horse's seat. The man's back was to her at the moment though. She was focusing on Fugo.
"Say," She spoke in a fittingly low voice. "Is there anything I can do for you? Something on my face? Or maybe you're hoping for my number?" She chuckled, crossing her arms.
Hol Horse recognized that voice. He immediately stood up and turned to face the source. His eyes widened and he felt at a total loss for words.
"Minny?" He questioned.
Her eyes sparkled with disbelief. "Jimmy? You're shitting me." She seemed to be frozen in place like she'd seen a ghost.
"Good God, Minny! You're the Sheriff now? Good on you! When did Mark finally step down?" Hol Horse took a step closer.
Minerva delivered a sudden slap across Hol Horse's face. He held his cheek in utter shock. Fugo stiffened up a bit. Were they about to get into a fight? He didn't want to cause trouble with an American Sheriff. It would make traveling very annoying. Hol Horse didn't hit back, though. He rubbed his face and nodded his head.
"Okay, I deserve that."
"Twenty-four years, you son of a bitch! Twenty-four years, and you stroll back into town like nothing's wrong?"
Well, that was definitely to be expected. Fugo kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. She was one of those "fake girlfriends" Hol Horse had all over the world. Although, one would think the girlfriend from his hometown would mean a little more to him? Maybe Hol Horse wasn't as good a guy as he seemed.
"I!" He stopped for a moment as an argument failed to form in his mind.
"After everything, you head to Joe's burger joint before stopping by to see me?"
Fugo had enough. Poor Hol Horse, or Jimmy, was being railed without mercy. It would be awkward, but Fugo had no dog in this race. He'd take the heat for a minute if it meant sparing Hol Horse another slap. The Italian stood up from his chair and extended a hand.
"The name's Pannacotta Fugo, I'm a friend of Jimmy's." He smiled.
Minerva raised a brow. She'd forgotten that this man was the reason she approached the table, to begin with. Her tan calloused working hand grabbed Fugo's pale wrist and shook it firmly. He wriggled his hand a bit in confusion. Why didn't she touch his hand?His expression was clear enough to get a response.
"I'm a germaphobe." The Sheriff shrugged. "Don't like touching hands when it's unnecessary."
Fugo nodded awkwardly. "A-Anyway," He withdrew his hand and subconsciously wiped it on his pants. "Jimmy and I are traveling across the country. He insisted we stop here and see his friends. It's hard to get him to shut up about you guys."
She shot a glare over at Hol Horse. "He thinks your name is Jimmy? Did you two just meet?"
That caused the tips of Fugo's ears to heat up a bit in embarrassment. So, which was it? She'd just called him Jimmy! Wouldn't that make his name Jimmy Hal? He hated situations like this. It was like a social minefield.
"The name's Hal Oates, Fugo." Hol Horse mumbled sheepishly. "Jimmy's a nickname, but only for when I'm in deep shit. It would take too long to explain."
Fugo understood that. How could he possibly catch up with a lifetime of inside jokes and memories in just a few short days? There are things you can never learn about another person. Why did Fugo care? He had no stake in the life of Hal Oates. All Fugo wanted was to kill Blondie. It didn't need to be more complicated than that. He decided to cut off whatever sentimentality he was developing at that moment and move on.
"Speaking of things taking a long time to explain…" Minerva rubbed her chin in thought. She had a certain look in her eyes that worried Fugo greatly. Something about her was dangerous. This wasn't any old small-town Sheriff. "Mind telling me why you don't look a day over thirty, Hal?"
Hol Horse seemed a little pale. He hadn't thought of an answer to that yet. Most people didn't think to ask. They just thought he looked great! Minerva was sharp, though. She wouldn't let something like that pass by without a bit of scrutiny.
"Funny that you should mention that. I picked up this skincare routine a few years back that could change yer life!" He laughed.
"Skincare?" Her eyes darkened. "Tell me."
Hol Horse swallowed his spit and choked a little in surprise. Once again, he'd been put on the spot. Couldn't this damn woman let him live a lie for one minute before ripping it apart? The cowboy let out a dramatic huff as he considered his options, there were not many at the moment. His silence was enough of an answer to alert Minerva.
"You know, Hal… One should be very careful with such a skincare routine. It looks like you've got eternal youth." Minerva's eyes somehow grew even darker as she stared directly through him. "If you're not careful, you might be mistaken for a witch."
Hol Horse inhaled sharply when she accused him of such a thing. This piqued Fugo's curiosity more than any line of salt. A witch? What kind of insinuation could that be? Surely the town of Uncertain couldn't be anti-witch in the year 2009? He'd read about the Salem Witch Trials in school. The sheer humanity of it all intrigued him as few things could. Fugo loved to read about how a town nearly tore itself apart chasing after witches that likely never existed in the first place. Was it something in the water? Could it be bad wheat? In recent years he'd even wondered if it could be the work of a Stand User. That one seemed very unlikely, but one could never really know, could they?
Hol Horse's expression wasn't one of curiosity. He felt cornered. The cowboy looked around for a moment in search of a shovel to dig himself out of his situation. After a tense silence, Minerva laughed it off. She threw her head back and playfully slapped Hol Horse on the shoulder.
"Gimme a break you big pushover! I'm only joking! You take things too seriously."
Fugo knew fear better than most. Hol Horse wasn't taking a joke too seriously. His expression was one of a man who'd just read a warning loud and clear. What could be going on in Uncertain? The town was earning its name if nothing else.
"Gosh, Minny! You sure know how to make a feller squirm! I think it's that gun on yer hip! You know I've always hated those!" Hol Horse laughed along with her.
"You were always a pushover. It was like pulling teeth anytime we tried to take you out shooting. I think it's because you're the softest cowboy in the west." She turned her attention to Fugo with a smile. "He's never even killed a rabbit. The poor guy jumps anytime he hears a gunshot."
This didn't sound anything like the Hol Horse Fugo knew. He'd have to assume Minerva was incorrect about this one. Hol Horse's Stand was literally a gun. He'd never heard of someone's Stand representing their greatest fear. Except for Purple Haze… The men seemed more like kindred spirits with each passing moment.
"How long are you in town anyway?" Minerva raised a brow. "I'd love to get a drink after my shift?"
Hol Horse grinned. "Sounds great! Just today, I'm afraid. But… Once I'm done helping Fugo on his trip, I could definitely come back for a while? A staycation! It'd be nice."
"That's wonderful. How's about we meet at Dave's around eight, then? First round's on me."
"Oh, you got it! I hope you plan on buying the next ten rounds too, 'cause I'm dead broke!" He laughed joyfully.
The men left shortly after. Fugo had his hands in his pockets as they meandered down the dirt road. He didn't really know what to say at that moment. Words often failed him, but this seemed like an understandable time for anyone to be at a loss. There was just so much that he didn't know. Why would Hol Horse drag him to such a place without any warning? His trust in the man was wavering. Hol Horse seemed like a slimy, scummy kind of guy, but Fugo never read him as a liar or manipulator.
Neither of the men had anything to say to each other. They went back to the motel and unloaded the car for the night. Around dinner time, Hol Horse excused himself to join Minerva down at the bar. Fugo was relieved to have a bit of privacy for the first time in a few days. He used it to meditate. As the hours went on, Fugo wondered just how long Hol Horse planned on staying out. The man reached over and turned the alarm clock around on the bedside table to face him.
"Eleven-thirty?" He muttered in disbelief.
All of the doors and windows had to be locked by 11:59 p.m. as per the owner's rules. Why would Hol Horse be cutting it so close? Unless…
"Christ almighty." Fugo scoffed at the idea.
The dog was probably planning on spending the night at the Sheriff's house. Fugo shuddered at the thought. He didn't want to imagine Hol Horse getting intimate with anyone, let alone that brute of a woman. If he planned on ditching for the night, so be it. Fugo began his nightly routine to prepare for bed. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and then flossed about three times. By the time his final meditation was over, the clock read 11:56 p.m. Fugo sighed, locking the windows of the motel room and glancing outside into the dark. He could hear footsteps in the hallway. It was likely the hotel's owner checking to see if all the exits were locked.
Now that Fugo had some real time to think about it, the mysteries of Uncertain bothered him even more. Salt lines, strangely specific curfews, and Minerva accusing Hol Horse of being a witch? All of these things gave him seriously bad vibes. He walked over to the window and gazed into the night sky. The sun would be rising soon in Italy. Fugo felt incredibly homesick. Would he ever return? It wasn't part of his plan.
The gentle sound of distant crying slowly faded in as Fugo stared out the window. He felt his senses sharply return as he tried to pinpoint the crying's source. It was coming from outside. Wasn't the town supposed to be dead quiet by midnight? His window was locked, and the clock read 11:57 p.m. Fugo felt sweat accumulating on his back. He could tell that the sobs were from outside the building. Why would someone be crying outdoors with such a strange citywide curfew?
"Mommy!" The voice wailed in the distance. It was growing clearer. "Mommy! Where are you? It's so dark!"
Fugo felt his breathing cease for a moment. All color left his face as the severity of his situation set in. There was a kid out there! What kind of mother would leave her child out in the dark? Maybe something terrible happened to her? A car crash? Or perhaps the child had been kidnapped and escaped into the night?
"Mooooooooooooooom!" The sobbing was right outside the motel at that point. It sounded like a little boy.
The Italian gripped the windowsill and gnashed his teeth. 11:58 p.m… If Fugo was going out, he'd have to spend the entire night outside. That was the agreement with the motel's owner. His eyes darted over to the bedroom door. There wouldn't even be time to make it outside before lockdown. He felt an immense weight bearing down on his shoulders as the clock stayed frozen at 11:58. There was still time. He had to do something. Fugo never fancied himself a hero, though. He was a gangster, a menace to society. Sure, Giorno focused on the betterment of Italy, but Fugo only joined the gang to have a place in the world. He had killed people for Passione before management changed. Who was he kidding? Someone else would take care of the terrified child. Surely a town of proud, simple Americans would care for their own.
"MOM!" The boy whimpered desperately. "I'm sorry! I know I'm not good enough! Please don't abandon me!"
Something snapped. Before he even finished processing that final cry for help Fugo was already out the window. Purple Haze slammed it open and locked it behind him as he fell onto the front porch's roof. Fugo rolled upon impact and quickly fumbled over to the edge. It was a small drop to the ground from there. Soon, he was in the middle of the road. The man's eyes frantically searched for the little boy.
"Hello!? Where are you?" He called into the night. "I'll help you find your mother!"
A storm was brewing up above. Rain began to pour down onto Fugo as he tried to find the lost child. He didn't pay it much mind, even as thunder cracked in the distance. The boy sounded like he'd been getting closer before. That meant he was probably walking around! Fugo just needed to pick the right direction and catch up. The storm grew stronger at an unnatural rate as Fugo ran down the road. Gusts of wind blew against him and swayed his footing on the growlingly slick asphalt.
"Kid! Where are you!? It's not safe out here!"
A different type of crying could be heard when Fugo took a moment to breathe. Despite the powerful winds and raging thunder, the voice seemingly pierced through it all. That was particularly strange due to the voice's identity. This wasn't the crying child from moments ago. No, Fugo was hearing the faint cries of an infant.
"A baby?" He muttered to himself.
What kind of baby would be lying on the ground in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm? It seemed to be coming from the trees not too far from the road. Fugo quickly ran over to the treeline and gazed into the darkness. The crying was louder. He knew this was the right way. Something didn't feel right, though. Perhaps it was Fugo's latent psychic abilities from the Stand Arrow or a keen sixth sense, but he realized that going into those woods would result in disaster.
Fugo's stomach sank as the rain poured down his hair. A sense of primal dread stopped him from taking one step further into the trees. Even as the baby's sobs grew more urgent, he didn't move an inch. It wasn't a baby at all. He couldn't explain how, but Fugo knew it to be true. Something was looming just beyond his sight.
"W-What the hell's going on here?" He called into the woods.
A distressed shriek filled the chaotic air. Fugo held his breath as a silhouette merged out of the darkness and into his line of sight. All of the air left his lungs at once upon seeing the source of the infant's crying. He didn't have any words to describe it.
The creature was unlike anything he'd seen or read about. It appeared to be a human-sized bird. Its proportions were a cross between human and avian. The creature had long feathers and impressive wings. Despite this, its legs seemed to be rather meaty and firm, unlike a bird's. The most distressing feature would definitely be its human face. The face of the creature resembled a beautiful human woman, although it was missing any kind of eyes. Instead, it boasted dark black voids where they should be.
For some reason, Fugo felt tears streaming down his cheeks at the sight of the creature. It had to be the source of bewitchment because he felt no empathy for the hollow beast. As the tears flowed, he attempted to wipe his eyes. This bird was dangerous, but it didn't look hostile at the moment. The shriek seemed like it was in pain, though. Fugo would have to be cautious.
As it grew closer, Fugo hesitated to move. Would any sudden gestures alert the large bird? He kept perfectly still as its feathery legs stomped closer. It twisted its neck in an avian way before moving closer. Fugo was definitely within smooching distance at that point. It wasn't exactly an ideal position.
"Get out of my face!" Fugo shouted, reaching a hand forward to push the animal.
His hand phased directly through its feathers. The being didn't seem physical in nature. Fugo stumbled back with jagged breathing. Fine. If his hands wouldn't work, he'd just have to settle on using it instead. Fugo gritted his teeth and balled up a fist in rage.
"PURPLE HAZE!"
The monstrous Stand ripped through the air and towered above Fugo's body. It threw both arms out in rage as white foam oozed from between its bared fangs.
"You're a little close for the real deal, but how about I give you a little taste of my bad side?" Fugo growled with pure ferocity as the veins in his face bulged.
The avian creature spread its massive wings and shrieked at the sight of Purple Haze. There wasn't much time for it to react before the Stand's boot connected with its chest. He effectively kicked it about ten feet back into the cover of darkness and trees. Fugo took a step forward and bit down on his lip in anger.
"Not getting away from me that easily. Imitating a child's cries for help and luring people into the woods? You can't be allowed to live. Is this what the town is so afraid of?" Fugo felt a bit of drool trailing down his chin. He was completely losing it. The man felt his left eye twitch uncontrollably. That didn't matter. He only needed one to see.
"You're a sickness. It's just unfortunate that you've run into a plague."
With that, Purple Haze fired a container off of its knuckle and launched it into the trees. Fugo held no remorse on his face as the glass shattered and released the virus into the air. He took a few steps back and felt the storm's ravenous wind blow his hair around. Lightning struck, illuminating the inside of the tree canopy for just a moment. The bird was standing inside Fugo's cloud.
"Guess you're finished. There's nothing alive that can tolerate my dark side. You caught me at a bad time." He grimaced.
"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!" A voice tore through the thunderstorm. It seemed to be a mix of woman and bird, just like the creature's body.
Fugo's eyes widened as he saw the vague silhouette leap out of the trees with its arms outstretched. He stumbled back, but there was no time to defend himself. The monster tackled him into the wet, muddy grass. They both rolled a few times before it ended up on top. He felt its talons dig into his flesh.
"Ngh…" He covered his mouth with one hand to prevent a wail of pain. His other hand was busy trying to shove the bird off. It seemed to go straight through its feathers like before. Fugo couldn't touch this monster. He could only be touched.
"This doesn't make any sense. Even Stands can become infected by my Purple Haze. What the fuck is wrong with you?" He shouted right at its distorted human face.
This only caused the creature to become even more agitated. It screamed at him, lifting up its talons with the intent to claw directly through his face. It looked like things were going to be that way… Fugo winced as lightning flashed directly above them. It cast a dark glare over the creature and nearly blinded him for a moment. Right in the corner of his eye, he swore there was the silhouette of a man with something pointed directly up. His eyes rolled back in defeat. That was likely just his wishful thinking.
This suicide mission ended sooner than planned.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Fugo's eyes shot wide open in surprise as the sound of three gunshots filled the air. For a moment he thought it was thunder, but nobody could mistake the two at such a close range. Someone was shooting. Bullets wouldn't have any effect if his own Purple Haze failed.
"GO ON! GET!" A man shouted. "Fuck outta here! Get the fuck out! Fucking bird! God fucking damn you! Fuck, shit! Shitting fucking shit fuck!"
Language. Why on Earth was someone laying into a bird with such vitriol? Would that be the final mystery of Fugo's life before it was cut drastically short?
"I'll kill ya, you bitch! Get outta here! Go on! Get! Get!" The voice was getting closer.
This distressed the creature far more than Fugo expected. The mixture of loud noises and hateful language caused it to topple over beside Fugo in agony. He rolled away and tried his best to stand up while the verbal assault continued. Soon, the bird cried one last time before soaring into the air and toward the moonlight. The rain continued to pour down on Fugo as he panted with exhaustion. A man ran up and grabbed Fugo, slinging an arm around him and giving the Italian a few sturdy pats.
"You're alright, Fugo. Yer fine! Chin up!"
After all of the chaos and confusion, it became pretty clear who had scared the creature away. Fugo gasped for air as his heart pounded like crazy.
"Hol Horse?" He asked in disbelief. "You came back?"
"Course I did! Just ran a little late, that's all! Drinks went longer than I expected! I never expected to find you outside after midnight! Didn't you listen to a single thing I said? Uncertain's got bad mojo!"
Fugo was beginning to calm down, but so much failed to make sense. His mind raced as thunder crashed above them.
"What the hell was that thing? It was like a demon!" He panted wearily.
Hol Horse sighed. Rain poured down his face as he considered how to answer that question. Fugo deserved the truth. The cowboy adjusted his hat and shrugged.
"They call it a Lechuza." He spoke carefully. "It's said to be the ghost of a witch. It mimics the sound of a child's crying and lures unsuspecting fools to their deaths. As far as I know, only salt and foul language can slow the thing down. That's why you've been seeing salt lines all over the town, and why I used some obscenities to scare it off."
Fugo's mind raced as he absorbed all of this information. "A witch?" He questioned. "You mean wands and broomsticks?"
"More like hex bags and sin." A woman's voice boomed through the night.
Both Fugo and Hol Horse turned toward the source. Minerva was standing on the edge of the road in her sheriff's uniform. One hand rested on her holster while the other straightened the rim of her hat. It was hard to see in such thick rain, so Fugo wiped his eyes for better visibility.
"W-When did you get here?" Fugo called into the night.
"Witches are the scum of the Earth. For all of human history, they've plagued our towns and killed innocent, god-fearing people. Do you know why there are wives' tales about sadistic monsters hiding razor blades in children's candy on Halloween? It's because witches can choke you to death on razors from hundreds of miles away with a simple curse. When an unsuspecting child fell victim to such a tragedy, it had to be explained away as a senseless crime committed by the candy killer. No… It was a witch. It's always a witch."
A dark aura filled the area as wind circled the men. Fugo's eyes narrowed as they caught vague details of a figure standing behind Minerva. No… It couldn't be. The figure took shape as a humanoid cloaked in the darkness above its master.
"That's why people like me are born. My Witchfinder General can put a swift end to any disgusting creature that crawls in the night. Its holy, purifying fire is the only salvation for a twisted soul." She licked her lips.
Witchfinder General was around the same height as Minerva. It seemed to wear a nun's habit, albeit with a few gothic additions. Each of its long fingers contained rings with arcane symbols etched onto the surface. The black robe glimmered with multiple shiny crosses plastered here and there. It carried a ball and chain between those bony fingers. The ball had multiple glowing red spikes protruding from within. Instead of eyes, it wore a scarlet opera mask from the nose up. It winged out in both directions with gold trim. A black stream of tears constantly poured down from each of the eye holes. Finally, its mouth was seemingly sewn shut with thread.
Fugo was rarely disturbed by the sight of a Stand. His Purple Haze wasn't exactly pretty. Despite that, Witchfinder General seemed to perfectly embody the phrase "catholic guilt" in a way the Italian struggled to put into words.
The dark Stand lifted a long index finger to its silenced lips. Its other hand began to swing the ball and chain in circles as Minerva stood tall.
"You…" She spat. "Hal, you've strayed from the righteous path. I thought you were dead, but that would have been mercy. You've stopped aging. Tell me, how long did it take for your body to give in to the witch's seductive whims? Five minutes? An hour? What happened to your faith?"
"Er… I never really bought into all that witch stuff! I'm a God-fearing man! Y'know, I might not miss Church more often than not, but I still love my country!"
Minerva felt a vein bulge in her forehead after that. She scowled with wrath, swinging the ball even faster. "You defiled me… Did you defile Uncertain? For what?"
"Excuse me," Fugo interjected. The man stepped closer to place himself between the two. "That creature… It was a dead witch? Why is it terrorizing the town?"
The sheriff scowled. She tilted her entire body sideways as her Stand swung the weapon threateningly. "Sometimes, a witch's soul can cling onto this plane longer than you'd like. When that happens, we salt the windows and go about our lives. Anything to maintain purity."
"And what exactly justifies the killing of a witch? I can understand self-defense, but you seem to despise them on principle." Fugo growled.
"Quiet, you brat. I'm not going to let some foreign outsider lecture me on things he couldn't possibly understand. Your welcome has just expired. Leave Uncertain this instant, and never come back. Consider this my one warning of grace for Hal. If I ever see you again, I'll purge you too."
Fugo clenched his fist and hung his head. "...just because they're born bad, huh? You hate an entire group because they were born wrong? People can't be born bad, you hag. They're made to be bad by the world, by you."
The ball slung across the field and toward both men. Purple Haze ripped through the air and sidestepped the chain. It grabbed onto the psychic chain and tore as hard as it could. Minerva's eyes widened when she saw the purple Stand. She tried to rip her chain back, but Purple Haze was holding on tight. It dug its feet into the grass and yanked even harder than before.
"What does it matter, foreigner?" Minerva called out in the storm. "You're free to go! My good graces are about to run thin, though! Now that I know you have an ability like mine, I can't underestimate you!"
"Fugo, we shouldn't… You don't know what kind of woman Minerva is." Hol Horse gritted his teeth nervously.
The Italian considered his options before tightening Purple Haze's grip. He pulled once again in an attempt to disarm Witchfinder General. Minerva sighed, shaking her head.
"I warned him, Lord."
The chain burned hot all of the sudden. Before Fugo could figure out what was going on, a bright light enveloped his world. Then came the blast. For a moment, he thought it was a rumble of thunder. It was far too close, though. Soon, the pain in his hands made it clear. The chain had blown up. Fugo got sent flying back in pain as dust filled the air. When he got a hold of himself, he saw Minerva standing proudly in the night. She swung her red, humming ball and chain with disdain in her eyes.
"You didn't think I just used a chain, did you? That wouldn't fare well against stronger witches. No, my ball and chain pack a little more of a punch than that!" She grinned menacingly.
Fugo felt a hand grip his wrist and drag him back. Hol Horse was pulling him toward the trees.
"Run, Fugo! Into the woods! GO!" He barked.
Fugo's shoes squeaked against the wet grass as he helplessly stumbled into the dark trees and away from the powerful Stand User. His ears were still ringing from the blast. This wasn't a very good opponent for him to go against. She could throw her weapon from a great distance… Purple Haze couldn't shoot a capsule with much accuracy beyond five meters. The ball and chain seemed to be far longer than that. It was magic, after all. Hol Horse had the right idea. They needed to get to a place where the ball had more obstacles. How well could she throw that when there were trees all over the place?
They fled into the woods and stumbled through the darkness. A few glances over his shoulder showed that Minerva was taking her time pursuing them. The men ran for a few minutes before ducking behind a tree in the darkness. Fugo heaved for air as he peeked past the tree. No sign of a glowing ball and chain. They were safe for the time being.
"Dude…" He panted. "You slept with her?"
Hol Horse felt his face burn hot. "I! I was running late! I never said I did anything like that!"
"But you've done it before? Back when you dated?" Fugo raised a brow.
"This is not the time to kiss and tell, Strawberry Boy! Why'd you go and pick a fight with that brute of a woman?" Hol Horse demanded.
"Couldn't you sense it? Her intent to kill? She was moments away from attacking. I couldn't take any chances. Besides that, it sounds like she's a terrible woman. Killing witches just because they practice magic is a little hypocritical for people like us, don't you think?"
Hol Horse rested his back against a tree. He frowned, staring into the darkness. "I guess you don't really know what it's like, growing up in a place like this. We were taught about the dangers of witchcraft at Sunday school. It was as natural as breathing, hating witches… I never even really thought I'd meet one. One day, I was hiking off the beaten trail. I'd hopped a couple of fences that maybe I shouldn't have. The next thing I knew, I was staring a big angry buck down with absolutely nowhere to run. It seemed furious with me. The bastard probably knew how much I liked steak."
"And?" Fugo raised a brow.
"Suddenly, I had a gun in my hand. I never liked carrying rifles around, even when my friends all loved it. I actually hated guns. They were loud, dangerous, and terrifying. Despite that, I had one in my hand, right when I needed it. That was my Emperor. I braced both hands, pulled the trigger, and fired."
Fugo was always interested to hear how people first learned of their abilities. Still, he didn't really know why Hol Horse was bringing this up at such a tense moment.
"I didn't really know what to call it besides witchcraft. How many people can materialize guns out of thin air? I hated it; thought I was some kind of freak. I'm not gonna give ya my whole life story or anything, but it's basically the reason I left home. I thought that if they ever knew about my Emperor, they'd hate me. The very thought that my home could turn on me for something so simple ate away at me. I didn't ask for my ability! I wanted to get rid of it. Who would ask to be born different?" He sighed.
Well, Fugo could certainly empathize with that. "Hol Horse, this place isn't home." He frowned. "They're no home to you. Maybe your little jump through time can be a blessing? The world's different now. There might be a place to carve out a new home, just for you."
A roaring blast filled the air and grabbed both men's attention. Fugo's eyes tracked the red glowing chain as it snaked gracefully around multiple trees in search of its targets. He gasped, grabbing Hol Horse and shoving him.
"Down! Duck!"
The chain coiled around a large group of trees, narrowly missing the men. Then, it tightened and snapped all of the trees in half instantly. Fugo's eyes widened as he readied Purple Haze. A large tree fell right for the men. Fugo used his Stand to kick the massive tree in half once again. They boomed against the ground on either side of him. This caused the man to let out a sigh of relief.
"That thing is way too agile! If it wraps around one of us like that, we're toast." He panted.
"We need to put more distance between us. She's really had it now." Hol Horse stumbled to his feet.
The men ran through the dark woods once again as they tried to flee the terrifyingly powerful Stand. Fugo wracked his brain for any idea on how to defeat Minerva. She couldn't be allowed to continue killing random women. He tried not to get caught up in other people's business, and this was exactly why. He always got attached. For the moment, all thoughts of Giorno and Rapture were gone. He was determined to stop Witchfinder General. Nothing else mattered.
The chain's sound could be heard bouncing off of every tree as it soared through the air. Fugo knew that escaping Minerva wasn't likely. She had raw power at an extended range. Purple Haze was the wrong Stand to fight such a beast. He knew of another, though. Hol Horse's emperor. The gun-based Stand seemed perfect for such an enemy, what could a clunky ball and chain do against a pistol?
"It has to be you! Your Emperor can beat her!" Fugo shouted as they ran through the woods.
"Defeat!? You mean kill Minny?" The cowboy appeared to be insulted by the mere thought.
"She's definitely trying to kill us! C'mon, Hol Horse! Get it together! What's been with you today?"
A red glare caught the edge of Fugo's vision as the chain wound snugly around his torso. His eyes widened as the cruel metal tightened against his chest. It seared his shirt and caused his jaw to twitch uncontrollably as he tried to cope with the pain. He'd seen what this chain could do to multiple healthy trees. It would have no issue snapping the skinny man in two. Fugo was living on borrowed time.
"What's been with him?" Minerva asked with amusement. "You're a foreigner, an outsider, and a liar. You somehow believe that a man like Hal would go against his home for someone so disgusting?"
Fugo struggled against Witchfinder General's chain to no avail as Minerva stepped out from behind a tree. The entire area was bathed in a red sheen from the glowing weapon. She rested a hand on her holster and licked her lips.
"Mmm… The world is so unsafe, isn't it Mr. Fugo? Gang violence, drugs, sexually transmitted diseases? I can tell you're no stranger to the more unseemly natures of life. The coroner would likely agree. In fact, I think it'll be pretty open and shut when you're found with a bullet hole in your chest and a needle in your arm, won't it? Open," She spun the chamber of her revolver. "...and shut."
The sound of a Stand manifesting caught Minerva's attention. She shot her eyes over to Hol Horse just in time to see Emperor raising up to her level. She nearly dropped her own gun in surprise.
"You've gotta be joking, Hal." She steadied her shaking hand and continued to point her gun at Fugo. "You seem to have found eternal youth, yet you act like you have a death wish. Think very carefully about what you're doing here. If you shoot me, everybody will know. We went out for drinks. You came to town after decades of absence! They'll think you came here just to kill me! You'll have nothing! Nothing and nobody!" She barked, the veins in her neck bulging in anger. "Put the gun down this instant! It disgusts me! The only time such spiritual abominations can be used is to quell satanism!"
Fugo had the air squeezed out of him long ago. He couldn't plead or reason with Hol Horse. All he could do was beg with his eyes. He stared into the man as Witchfinder General's chain snaked even tighter around him. This caused Hol Horse to grit his teeth.
"Leave him alone, then! We'll get our car and leave! Nobody has to die, Minny! What in tarnation happened to you?" He demanded with a quaking voice.
"I'm sorry, Hal, but this man-made his decision! He uses magic and questions our ways! I can't let you go either. Not after finding out about your little spirit gun! I'm killing the foreigner, and I'm taking you into custody! Put the gun down." She hissed.
Hol Horse trembled as the woman berated him with such malice. He sniffled, sweat pouring down his back along with the rain. What was he supposed to do? Fugo was innocent, but he'd known Minny his entire life. She was like family to him. Everyone in Uncertain was! Tears welled in his eyes. The man hung his head, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on Emperor.
Just then, the piercing screech of a feral creature startled all three Stand Users. They looked up and saw the Lechuza plunging down from a tree branch. Witchfinder General immediately released Fugo and yanked its weapon back as quickly as possible, causing the Italian to stumble down against a tree. He caught himself and turned to see the action as Minerva was tackled to the grass.
The Lechuza screamed directly into Minerva's face. The cry bounced off of every tree and caused Fugo's ears to ring. He held both of them closed in an attempt to lessen the pain. That scream was supernatural, no creature could possibly be so loud otherwise. Minerva rolled her head back and cried out in distress. Witchfinder General's chain spun around the Lechuza in an attempt to snap its willowy form. The chain seemed to phase directly through the ethereal being. That made sense… Fugo's attacks didn't have any effect on it either. His kick connected, but Purple Haze's capsules didn't infect it with the disease!
"You're disgusting!" Minerva spat directly into the monster's face.
This resulted in an even louder cry from The Lechuza. It dug three of its talons into Minerva's shoulder and stood upright. She wailed in pain, but the otherworldly being didn't struggle one bit in lifting the large woman off the ground.
"No…" The Sheriff groaned as she realized what was happening. "NO!" She screamed in terror as it truly set in. "NO! Please! Hal! Hal, do something! Shoot it! Shoot it now!"
Hol Horse readied his Emperor and fired it several times at the monster. The Lechuza seemed to absorb the bullets effortlessly. He fired six more times in the night. None of them had any effect. His energy was wavering after so many consecutive shots. Emperor fired his own essence, not physical rounds. He couldn't shoot rapidly for very long. All he could do was watch in horror as the creature dragged the sheriff into the darkness.
"Hal!" She screamed in vain. "HAL! PLEASE!"
Hol Horse stepped toward the darkness before a hand-blocked him.
"Leave them," Fugo spoke grimly. "She made her bed. Maybe the evils spirit will finally have peace."
"But…" Hol Horse felt sick. "Minny."
"She killed that witch, Hol Horse. Turned it into that freak of nature the entire town fears. Do the citizens of Uncertain know why it's unsafe to go out after midnight?"
He shook his head somberly. "It's been that way our whole lives. She didn't kill it. Her family did. They're the hunters of our town. I only found out what the Lechuza really was after leaving town and doing my own research."
Minerva's screams of desperation had faded completely into the thunderstorm. She was only a memory. Fugo sighed, finally relaxing for the first time in quite a while.
"Listen, Hal." He glanced away, feeling strange using Hol Horse's real name. "You don't need to explain how shitty it is having your home swept out from under your feet. When I was thirteen, my whole family disowned me for defending myself against a predator." He'd never come out and admitted that in so few words before. Of course, Bucciarati knew, but that's because Bucciarati knew everything.
"You might've been born and raised here, but this place isn't your home. They think anyone that's born differently is evil and out to get them. In the end, they're the very monsters that they feign such fear of. She used magic to kill witches. It's useless. Useless and sad." He shook his head.
"You can't just say that." Hol Horse muttered. "If Uncertain isn't my home, where is it?"
"Texas?" Fugo shrugged. "The United States? Or maybe it's wherever you're holding a big, juicy burger. That's not my job to tell ya. You're never too old to define yourself, Hol Horse. You can make a home anywhere you go."
Hol Horse glared at his Emperor as it collected rain under the moonlight. He'd traveled so many places, but it never felt like home. He was always afraid of coming back, especially as he associated with darker and crueler forces. He had never asked for any of it. Hol Horse had done some truly rancid things. Where could home possibly be?
The rain slowed. Soon, the only precipitation came from the leaves dripping down remnants of the storm onto both men. Fugo held out a hand and caught a few drops with consideration on his face.
"This storm is finished." He mused. "It will rain again, but it's over for now. We can take the time between to find shelter. It's always better to be home for a storm."
"Yeah…" Hol Horse stared up at the stars as they poked through the dispersing clouds. "Home."
The sun was rising over the horizon as Hol Horse and Fugo stood in the motel parking lot. Hol Horse was on the hood of their stolen car smoking a cigarette as Fugo fumbled with an Atlas. The cowboy took a drag of his cigarette as the sun rose before him. He blew it out slowly, letting the warmth fill his lungs for as long as he could bear. Fugo lifted his head from the Atlas and watched Hol Horse for a moment.
"When she had her gun to me…" He broke the calm silence. "Were you going to shoot her?"
Hol Horse didn't acknowledge the question at first. He took another drag and let his head fall back against the windshield. His eyes showed how exhausted he really was. The cowboy thought to himself for a good while before shaking his head.
"I don't know, good buddy." He finally admitted. "She deserved it, and I wanted to. I just don't know if I could've pulled the trigger, though."
Fugo could live with that answer. "Hmm. I know the feeling." He sighed, closing the Atlas and tossing it into the car. "I don't know what I'm going to do in New York. I keep thinking that I'm going to attack Blondie and get revenge, but the more I think about it…" He trailed off.
The Italian was struck silent by a sunbeam as it danced across the pink sky. The early morning was his favorite part of the day. The quiet, dew-ridden atmosphere mixed nicely with his introverted disposition. He enjoyed it when the world was asleep. It gave him time to be alone at peace. If he died in New York, there wouldn't be any more sunrises. He'd never enjoy a black coffee as the sun rose across a pink and orange sky ever again.
"...I don't know if I want to die." He finally muttered.
Hol Horse flicked his cigarette into the wet grass and hopped off the hood of the car. "Well, that's definitely a good start, ain't it? Let's keep driving anyway, okay? We definitely can't stay here. Even if we don't go to New York, moving seems like the best thing for now. Maybe we'll even find something worse moving towards?"
As Fugo stared at the sunrise, he realized that it was actually the direction they were heading. New York was to the east, just like the sun. It would already be high in the sky over there. He smiled, loosening his tense shoulders and nodding gently.
"Yeah, something worth moving towards." He grinned at the sun.
To be Continued…