AN: Well, here goes nothing.

So this is essentially a plot blurb that sort of popped into my head and refused to leave, so this is me writing at least the first few bits down in an attempt to get it out there. If people like it, I'll try to extend it and keep going.

I always loved the concept of D4C as a stand and it's myriad of uses and interpretations, but I could never find enough representation of it on this site. This is my attempt at rectifying that. :D

I hope you guys enjoy.

With all that being said, let's begin!

Disclaimer: I, Beowulf do not own PJO or JJBA. I only own this plot, my OC, and the disappointing truth that I do not possess D4C. If I did, I would push the boundaries way more than Valentine did.

~Chapter 1~

Cyrus Khan was a fairly normal person if he were to say so himself. Yes, he had his little quirks and eccentricities like any guy, but for the most part, he was a fairly normal 16 year old guy from America. Funny, considering his name made him seem so much larger and grander than he was. He was just normal, even if his mind seemed to be wired for unorthodox thinking, cunning, and a surprisingly foul mouth. He'd learned to temper that down, after all, who wanted trouble? He wanted a quiet comfortable life...he owed it to his parents. Even if he kind of felt like he wanted a bit more...

He chuckled to himself softly, shaking himself out of his thoughts, remembering his dad's nickname for him. 'Daydreamer' indeed.

Currently, he was out driving his car, a very nice Lexus, gifted to him by his uncle. He grinned as he zipped down the highway, heavy metal blasting from the radio. Quickly looking into the mirror to make sure he was presentable, he smirked.

He was a pretty good looking guy if he were to say so himself; a tall, decently well-built looking Indian guy. He had caramel-colored skin, light green eyes, and a mane of rich black hair that grew down to his mid-back (which he definitely had to fight his mom about keeping). He had no marks on his face at all (thank god his acne when he was younger didn't scar him up), and his eyes twinkled with mischief. He currently wore a green button-up half-sleeved shirt with two of the top buttons undone, ripped up black jeans, and a pair of sturdy black combat boots. A silver Cross necklace dangled from his neck, the chain draped over the front of his shirt.

Jamming out to Power Metal, he pulled out his phone as it started buzzing, answering it without taking his eyes off the highway. "Hello?"

"Dude where the hell are you? We've been waiting on you for an hour to start the grill up!" A voice shouted out at him. Cyrus winced and shook his head. His friends were always so loud... Quietly merging into a lane behind a massive truck with a bunch of cargo strapped onto the back, he waited for his friend to stop his ranting.

"Calm down man, you know how traffic can be. I just passed by a jam and I'm on my way. I have the steaks in the back, we can unpack 'em when I get there. Sound good to you?" He stated calmly as he kept his eyes on the road.

A sigh sounded into the phone from the other side. "Alright alright, but try to get here sooner man, we're all waiting and hungry."

"Gotcha, I'll see you there." Click! "Ugh, so impatient...oh wait that's me too." Cyrus murmured to himself.

Refocusing on his surroundings, he took a look at the truck in front of him. He scrunched up his nose, trying to see if he could merge into a different lane. No such luck.

"Well shit. Whatever." He shrugged to himself as he refocused in front of him. All of a sudden, he heard a snapping noise, followed by the sound of breaking glass, and a massive spike of pain in his chest.

His eyes widened in shock as he gasped in pain. After that, it all became a blur. He dimly realized in the background that the car had tumbled and crashed, with a bunch of people yelling in the background. The light dimmed as his eyes closed, and then he knew no more.

Cyrus's eyes slowly opened to find himself face down laying in a space of...nothing? "What the fuck?" He slowly got to his feet, before stumbling suddenly, putting a hand to his torso as a massive stab of pain rocketed through his chest.

"Gah..my chest is killing me...what the hell happened?" He muttered to himself as he tried to remember. He'd been driving to a friendly grilling get-together...talking on the phone with friends? Yeah, talking on the phone with friends when...when what happened?

He looked around, only to find nothing but blackness surrounding him. All except for a simple mirror propped up on a claw footed stand. "This is getting weirder by the second.."

He stumbled over to the mirror, slowly taking in his own appearance. His eyes narrowed as he looked over his own form in the mirror. He looked...different..? Something didn't fit right.

Mane of black hair that was down to his back? Check. His light green eyes? Check. Stubble on his caramel colored skin? Check. He absently rubbed his chin a little. "Maybe I need to trim that..."

Giving himself a quick glance over, everything seemed fine. He still was wearing his button up shirt, and his slightly ripped jeans. Then he looked back where he felt the pain in his chest. His eyes widened. "Oh..."

Right over his chest, where his heart used to be, was a massive hole, as if a giant cylinder had punched clean through him. He stared at it for a solid moment. "...well shit, how'd I miss that?"

A voice spoke up from behind him, solemn and humble but still exuding a power in and of its own. "Your mind is still trying to catch up to what happened. Pay no heed to it."

Cyrus whipped around, biting back a gasp of pain as the action made his chest hurt more. "Who are you? Where am I?! What the hell is this?!" He demanded, his voice growing more and more angered with a need for answers.

"You have died, Cyrus Khan." The voice resounded around him, making it difficult to pinpoint the source, especially in the blackness.

"...HUH?!"

The voice seemed to pause, before speaking once more. "Look upon the mirror."

The young man looked back at the mirror and his eyes widened in shock. Within the mirror he could not see himself. Instead, he saw a scene as if he was watching a movie. A movie featuring himself.

"Wait...no.." Cyrus stood transfixed as his movie-self drove a car behind a heavy-set truck loaded with steel rods. Suddenly the band holding the pipes in place snapped, spewing the metal cylinders onto the road...and one flying right into him.

"You are dead, Cyrus Khan." The voice repeated as Cyrus watched himself get pierced clean through by one of the steel rods. He looked down at himself, seeing the hole where his heart should have been. "I...I see. I'm dead then. Fuckin hell.." He spoke as a sense of sorrow shot through him. He grumbled suddenly to himself.

"Damn it, I didn't even get a chance to have a good last meal..."

The voice continued to speak. "My sincerest apologies Cyrus. As for where you are, you are in Limbo. The space in between Afterlives."

Cyrus looked up from his mortal wound, grimacing slightly. "Alright, so that answers what and where. Who the hell are you?"

"Who am matters not at this moment. What matters is what must be done with you. I am here to offer you something."

"Offer me what? I don't think it'll matter to me very much, I'm dead after all."

"I offer you resurrection, but with a catch."

The young man paused. "...I'm listening."

"I will give you my Heart and Rib Cage."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

Pain.

Cyrus choked on his own spit as a burning hot pain erupted in his chest where the hole was, along with a splitting headache as information was stabbed into his brain. He collapsed on to his knees as images flooded his vision.

A blond man with long hair ending in rings and wearing a long pink coat stood tall and unyielding, giving off an aura of absolute authority.

"It is better to take the first napkin and be a leader than a follower."

A blue shape materialized behind him slowly.

"I have taken the first napkin!"

The figure grew clearer, massive ears taking shape and fuchsia glowing eyes appearing and growing more and more visible by the second.

"As President, it is my sworn duty! In this world, to guarantee the safety of the people of my country. That is what it all comes down to!"

"I have feelings of patriotism! Every action I have performed was because I judged it to be absolutely for this country's sake!"

"My heart and actions are utterly unclouded! They are all those of Justice!"

"D4C!"

Cyrus gasped as all this information flowed into his mind, the memories of Funny Valentine, of his mistakes and triumphs, the truth of the 23rd President of the United States in a universe countless realities away from his. He collapsed fully, falling onto his back as he panted from the pain.

At last, the agony subsided in his chest and head. Cyrus sat up slowly, breathing heavily as he patted his torso. He looked down and stiffened.

The hole was gone. He was healed without even a scratch. Even his shirt had been mended together like nothing happened. "I-Incredible..."

Cyrus looked up from his healed wound. "Thank you. I..I know who you are now. You are the Saint, aren't you?"

A figure seemed to emerge from the darkness, not entirely visible, but clear enough to see partially. A crown of thorns atop his head was all Cyrus needed to confirm the truth. "Correct Cyrus Khan."

His eyes widened in horror as his brain caught up with what he had said to the Saint. Oh Christ above (literally), his mom would have beat him to death for this! "Oh shit I'm so sorry I insulted you I didn't mean to say all that please don't damn me to hell or whatever I've been a-"

"Your words do not affect me. It is alright."

"I-I uh, I thank you, um...Holy One for this audience and uh-um," Cyrus stumbled over his words as he struggled to comprehend what was happening, before a wave of calm suddenly washed over him, probably from the Saint himself. The newly healed young man sighed in relief as he wet his lips. "What do you want of me?"

"I offer you a chance at life again. Not in your own reality, but a reality far from this one. You shall be my emissary on this world. As a gift, I have given you some of my parts." The Saint spoke, his voice still as solemn and direct as ever.

Cyrus looked down at himself in wonder. "Wait...his parts? The Heart and the Rib Cage...could it be?" He thought as he recalled Funny Valentine's memories. Had the Saint given him parts of his Corpse? He felt under his shirt and all over his body, focusing on his senses. He felt...better...stronger. Far stronger than he ever had been in Life! But the biggest question Cyrus had was not yet answered. He hesitated, before he reached within himself for a moment, closing his eyes as he concentrated.

His eyes snapped open in shock. He felt it. The power that had been formerly that of President Valentine, he could feel it deep within his soul. D4C's strength, speed, and power...it was his now. "Holy shit."

He suddenly winced. "Uh, I'm sorry sir, that's not blasphemous is it?"

The Saint said nothing to indicate whether he heard it or not, and continued. "Perhaps you can redeem this Stand, after the sins that Valentine committed." Cyrus nodded, though on the inside he was smiling. Not only a new chance at life, but with D4C? Valentine's memories came back to the forefront of his mind regarding the powers of D4C.

"With Valentine's Stand come his memories regarding how to use it. I trust you shall use it well, however you wish. My other gift is this." The Saint held out his hand, holding a beautiful hand-cannon. Cyrus nodded in respect and understanding. Valentine used guns quite a bit as well, to make up for his Stand's lack of range. "With this, you shall always have the Last Word. It is blessed with my power, you shall never run out of ammunition to load it with, but you must reload. The bullets shall harm anything you fire them upon."

Cyrus reverently took the gun from the Saint's hand, feeling it within his grasp. He spun it in his hand once or twice, before smiling in approval. "I accept your gift."

The Saint nodded. "Good." The gun suddenly disappeared from his hand, a strange symbol of a cross with thorns all over it appearing on the inside of Cyrus's wrist. "You need merely think it, and your weapon shall be in your hand."

"My final gift, is this." A light weight fell across Cyrus's shoulders. Looking back he saw it was a long overcoat, similar to the one that Valentine would often wear, but gray with a royal purple lining along the edges of the lapels. Cyrus grinned a little. This would come in handy if he understood D4C's power enough. The new Stand User straightened his outfit out slightly and smiled. It definitely helped him look cool too.

The Saint continued, "All I ask is thus. Be my emissary across this world. In it, you shall play a pivotal role. That is all. When you are ready, I shall send you to your fate, Cyrus Khan."

Cyrus hesitated before he nodded.

The Saint waved his hand, and Cyrus vanished to places unknown.

For the second time today (was it still the same day? Fuck it, who knew), Cyrus found himself waking up in a place he didn't know. Groaning, he got to his feet, dusting himself off and looking around.

He snorted as he saw his surroundings. "A dirty alleyway in? Great start I suppose." He grumbled to himself before he spotted a pristine book with a little post-it note on it. He reached down and picked it up, reading the note on top.

You will have need of this.

-J

Cyrus smirked a little as he tore off the note, his eyes narrowing as he read the title. "'A Trip through Ancient Greece: Greek Mythology Simplified', huh? Weird. Whatever.." He tucked the book under his arm as he exited the alleyway onto the sidewalk.

"Lets see what this world's got in store for me."

~Seven Years Later~

It was safe to say that Perseus Jackson was not having the best day. All he wanted was to have a trip to Camp Half-Blood with minimal issues and have a nice, peaceful time there with NO monsters. Was that so much to ask for? Really?

Apparently it was, considering he was now dealing with a Manticore with his friends Annabeth, Thalia and Grover. Oh and two new half-bloods that Grover had found. FUN! Not.

He stared in shock and silent relief as multiple arrows struck the Manticore, named Dr. Thorn. Thorn snarled and stumbled as the arrows hit their marks.

The beast snarled as it yanked the arrows out. Hearing a sigh of relief behind him, Percy turned to see his friend Annabeth Chase. "The Hunters!"

A girl wearing Punk clothing and wielding a spear groaned in irritation as her hands continued to spark with electricity. "Oh, wonderful..."

The Son of Poseidon looked over to where the arrows had been shot from. Taking note of their cloaks and bows, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. Each and every one of the attackers were girls near his age, some a year or so younger than him! One in particular near the front with long dark hair and a silver circlet drew her bow back more, readying the arrow before speaking, "Shall I end this beast, Milady?"

The Manticore snarled in rage, glaring at the Hunters with hatred and a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Unfair! This is forbidden by the Ancient Laws!"

"Not quite," a young girl around the age of twelve or thirteen spoke up, her eyes glinting like the moon. "The hunting of all wild beasts is my domain. That includes you, foul abomination." She looked to the girl in the circlet and nodded. "Permission granted Zoe."

Thorn growled and turned to Percy and Thalia. "If I cannot take them alive, I will leave them dead!"

With a roar, the Manticore launched himself at the two dazed demigods, ready to rake down his claws and end their lives.

"No!" Annabeth yelled as she prepared to charge the monster.

Squelch! A surprised gasp left the Manticore's mouth.

"W-what? W-who are..? How did you..." Focusing on the figure that suddenly stood between them and the monster, Percy could see that he was tall, and wore a long gray coat, with long black hair cascading down to the middle of his back.

And that his fist was currently through the Manticore's chest and out the back.

The mysterious boy seemed to chuckle as he twisted his arm inside the beast, making the fist into something like a karate chop. "Shhh. Your next line is, 'who the hell are you?'"

The Manticore growled as it coughed up golden dust. "Who the hell are y-?" The beast's eyes widened, "What?!"

In a swift, almost brutal motion, the boy ripped his hand upwards, splitting the Manticore's head in half and turning him into golden dust instantly. Quickly turning in an instant, the boy pulled a gun out of nowhere, spinning it in his hand before pointing at something behind the Hunters. He squeezed the trigger without hesitation, blasting the black military helicopter that had appeared out of the Mist and putting a bullet clean through the pilot's eye.

The boy lowered his gun as the helicopter spiraled out of control, exploding in an inferno that had everyone shielding their faces from the heat. Percy looked over the edge of the cliff as the remains of the chopper fell into the ocean before looking back at the male who had saved him and Thalia.

"Who are you? Speak, man!"

The huntress from before demanded as she and the others drew their bows. As if completely unworried, the aforementioned man chuckled as the gun disappeared from his hands. "I don't take orders from you, Zoe Nightshade. Besides, you knew who I was the second I pulled out the Last Word."

The girl stiffened before her expression grew even more displeased as she pulled the bowstring back tighter.

Percy, in a moment of either courage or idiocy, stepped forward, putting Riptide's blade to the side of the man's neck. "Who are you?"

The unknown male turned slightly, looking at Percy over his shoulder. He turned around fully, revealing his face. While others, including his three friends gasped, Percy stared in confusion. What stood before him was a teen around maybe seventeen years old, dressed in a dark green button-up shirt, ripped jeans, and combat boots, all covered by a long, fancy looking overcoat that was almost too long, reaching down to his mid calves. A lustrous mane of black hair covered his head and two light green eyes with a bizarre thin lining of fuchsia around the outer edges of the irises stared down at him. Cheeks covered by two-day old stubble pulled back as a wild trickster grin curled the nameless boy's lips.

"My name is Cyrus Khan," the boy said, holding out a hand to shake. "And it's a pleasure to meet you at last Perseus Jackson."

AN: And there we are. I'm sorry if it seems kind of rushed.

I love the idea of using D4C as a way to insert people into stories, I'm surprised it's not used as often. Probably bc the Stand itself is very...well it's probably quite hard to tackle.

Right then, notes.

If you're having trouble visualizing Cyrus, try to imagine an Indian variation of Gyro Zeppeli with the traits I mentioned and 17 years old. His overcoat looks like Valentine's red variation from EoH, but with the colors stated.

I tried not to mention D4C's power explicitly or show D4C outright, but maybe you can spot where he's used it when introducing himself to the group. This shall be resolved later of course, I'm just trying to save the big reveal of the Stand for later. Stand users shouldn't explicitly state their powers after all...

As for the extent of power regarding D4C, I intend of having Cyrus push the boundaries of the Stand far more than Valentine ever did. It is after all stated in the Wiki that Valentine had only begun to scratch the surface of his powers and I intend on taking that to the limit.

Honestly compared to a lot of the cast of PJO, I find D4C to be...powerful, yes, but not exactly a OP power. At least, not on its own. Yes, D4C has the power to destroy things by merging two of the same thing from different worlds together, but Cyrus will likely not use it very much unless the situation requires it or the fight is to be determined on the spot. That being said though, with the bigger powerhouses of PJO, I don't see him being powerful enough to pull a Titan through to another world to remove them like that. In all honesty, on its own from what Funny Valentine does with D4C, its kind of underwhelming because he just uses it for extra lives more or less.

As for D4C's strength and speed, it's stated to be on par with King Crimson, which effortlessly cleaves through body parts and (more famously) turns people into donuts, and is able to keep up with Diego when transformed by Scary Monsters, and has Star Platinum's stats, so I think it's quite fair to put someone like that into PJO. Hell, all of D4C's stats pretty much mirror Star Platinum's and we all know how disgusting Star Platinum is when it comes to Stands.

Valentine uses a lot of revolvers to get around his Stand's lack of range. After all, D4C is only 2 meters. So, I gave Cyrus the Last Word from the Destiny series. Strong and speedy, the bullets will harm anything Cyrus wishes, and he can't run out of ammo, but he does have to manually reload the gun. None of that Doom logic here.

Yes, that was Joseph's trick of predicting his enemy's words. I do plan on having Cyrus be a more trickster type of character, using D4C to outwit his opponents first instead of just overwhelming them. That being said he'll still go for brute force if it works.

Regarding Cyrus's supposedly "mortal" state in this world because he wasn't born to any Gods...well, you'll see.

I hope you guys enjoyed! Please do leave reviews, it really helps me out.

~Beowulf