Musical References: Killing Floor, a Howlin' Wolf Song (later covered by The Jimi Hendrix Experience)
Killer Queen: A Clockwork Pink
Chapter 6: Killing Floor
When Hayato woke up, he didn't find himself in his bedroom sleeping in a moderately sized twin bed, with buried under a big warm blue blanket. No, when he opened his eyes, he found himself floating in an infinite void of darkness, only broken by a single spotlight illuminating nothing. Hayato looked around, and at his feet, marveling at the feeling of weightlessness, but eventually his eyes constantly were dragged back to look at the single white spotlight.
Out from the darkness, entered Hayato's stand, Fortunate Son. The small, dark blue Bat-like stand with a short snout, tiny mouth and what looked like a silver visor over where his eyes should be. It had big, plaster white ears and it's long (about 4 inches) wings extended, but interestingly it was not fluttering like a normal bat, but instead floating in the middle of the spotlight, unmoving.
"So… Shall we conduct business?" It spoke in a deeper variation of Hayato's own voice. "Lights!"
Suddenly, the entire void fills itself with a blinding light that would have given Hayato insane cataracts if he didn't cover his face. When he brought his arm down, away from his face, he found himself till floating, but instead of a void, he found himself surrounded by television screens. Looking up he sees that Television Screen room stretched up all the way to infinity and all the way down, more of the same. When he looked at each screen, he noticed that they each showed the same scene, the moment milliseconds after the late Keicho Nijimura ordered his stand, Bad Company to fire on Kira and Hayato. How here each one of them showed off something completely different than what actually happened that day.
One screen showed Kira's back getting ruthlessly mutilated in the hail of bullets, blood spraying everywhere as he uses his own body to protect Hayato. In another, one of the tank shells hit Killer Queen in the hand as Kira's stand attempts to defend him and Hayato by itself, getting its arm torn off by the shoulder, translating to Kira getting his arm torn off by the shoulder. In a third screen, Fortunate Son attempts to defend Hayato but a few, and by a few, I mean many, bullets eluded the small bat Stand, causing to completely decimates the upper skulls of Hayato and Kira, unsurprisingly killing them.
"Jesus Christ…" Hayato mouthed in complete shock as all of these screens showed hyper realistic images of the event. "What the hell are these? None of these ever happened!"
"You're very welcome for that by the way…" Fortunate Son said as it floated up to Hayato, wings still unmoving, putting its small snout closer to Hayato's as the latter gives his stand a puzzled loo. "You know this thing here had to blitz through here at 17,000 Lightyears just to find the outcome where both you and Kira survive the onslaught unleashed by the Nijimura…"
The Bat Stand is talking about itself in the 3rd Person, it's tiny arm waving at Hayato as if it was first meeting him. The little boy blinked a few times before tilting his head slightly, confused.
"'This Thing?' Did you just refer to yourself in the 3rd Person?"
"No, no, no. Look around you Hayato, the dimension you are in is the actual Fortunate Son stand, the small bat that you are looking at is just the metaphysical bridge to your world from here. A tiny cog in a much bigger machine… It is both the voice, body and the eyes, but not Fortunate Son itself…" The interdimensional stand explained.
Hayato stayed silents as he grinded up all the information given to him into a digestible paste so he could understand. He turned back to the screens, the damn near quadrillions that line the walls of the Dimensional Stand…
"So… Can you give me a simplified rundown of what you do?" Hayato asked, not looking away from the screens.
"Certainly. Fortunate Son is a dimensional stand that can see an infinite number of possibilities for the outcome of a dire situation. When I find a screen that has the intended outcome that will protect you and any ally in range-"
"How big is the range?" Hayato asked.
"5 meters, anyone that is basically touching you or close to touching you. Case in point Kira, who was basically covering you with his own body…" Fortunate Son turns to a screen which showed Kira shielding Hayato with his entire body. "Anyways as I was saying… I find the screen that has the intended outcome that has a 100% chance of protecting you. Simply put, I hand select fate itself… But it's only for defensive purposes only… I am not capable of attack… Yet…" Its voice got dark at the end, once again confusing its master but he chose to ignore it.
"How long does it take for you to find the perfect outcome of an impossible situation?"
"Every critical decision is made in microseconds; I am able to move myself faster than the expansion of the universe to find the best outcome. When I said I had to blitz through here at 17,000 Lightyears, I wasn't joking. Each moment is precious, especially in combat…"
Hayato's mouth gaped at the velocity described to him. It was monumental… It was… A lot to take in to be completely honest with you.
"And if you fail?" Hayato, of course, had to ask.
"I won't…"
"But-"
"I won't…" The screens around Hayato began to flick out or get all static-y as Fortunate Son reaffirmed its position. After that, Hayato decided to remain silent, as it didn't want to push his own stand any further.
Hayato now is left with burning question. What will having a stand mean for my future? But his train of thought was interrupted by Fortunate Son once again.
"Oops, looks like your about to wake up…" It was looking up, but it then looked at his master. "Oh, and one more thing… Stand Users have a tendency to unconsciously drift together. This can go one of two ways, either it will benefit you, or it will put you and those around you in more danger than they are already in…" And with that, Fortunate Son seemingly floated away in a dust cloud as Hayato felt himself falling. Falling. Falling…
Hayato woke up. This time he found himself in his bedroom sleeping in a moderately sized twin bed, with buried under a big warm blue blanket. He glanced over to his alarm clock, and noticed it was…
"SHIT!" He ferociously whispered out noticing it was 8:10, he was extra late for school.
He jumped out off of his bed and nearly crashed on the floor until he found himself standing upright as if nothing happened. Confusing, but it might have been Fortunate Son, who laid dormant since the events at the Nijimura residence. He quickly putting on some clothes, because usually his mom was the one who woke him up to get ready for school, but weirdly she hadn't today. He put on his shoes and jumped out of the door, hair still a mess and almost eating massive shit on landing, but as he regained his balance, he realized that there were two people already sitting at the kitchen table.
Shinobu and Kira.
Shinobu was wearing a black, polka dot shirt with a green skirt, while Kira was wearing a pink, long sleeved shirt with some greyish, or white pants on. Both of them had a cup of piping hot tea, both looking at Hayato with puzzled expressions on their face. Wait… If mom is still here, and Kira is dressed up so casually… That means…
"Today is Saturday… Isn't it…" Hayato seemed to deflate a bit.
Shinobu let out a loud heartly laugh, one that she hadn't have in almost 10 years! Being in a loveless marriage, the only thing bonding her to it being the fact that she had a son to the man she was married to, it doesn't leave so much time for the comical moments in life to have a good laugh and cherish for the rest of her days. But now, she was laughing harder than she might have ever laughed in her life. If Hayato didn't feel relieved that his mother could still feel emotions despite all that she went through, he'd be absolutely red faced with embarrassment by now.
"It is…" She gave herself a second to recompose herself, wiping away a bit of tears that forced its way out of her tear ducts, Kira. "It's okay dear, you can go back to sleep…"
"Hey, Kid, I think you put on your shoes backwards…" Kira said, with a smug grin, pointing at Hayato's feet.
"Huh?" He looked down at his shoes… They were both on the wrong foot. "UGH!"
Kira made a sigh, Hayato thinks it was to disguise a laugh that he didn't want to slip out, to not betray his habitually stoic mannerisms around Shinobu. Repulsive. After Hayato got back up after fixing his shoes, he watched as his mom got up from the table to make Hayato some breakfast. As he sat down next to Kira, he noticed a plate with leftover food scraps on it.
"What are you doing here?" Hayato whispered to Kira.
The blonde man said nothing for a second as he was too busy sipping tea. He lowers his tea up before answering. "Shinobu was insistent that she make breakfast for me…" He returned to sipping what's left of his tea.
"Oh cool, anyways-" Absolutely disregarded. "Hey mom, what are we going to do today?"
"Oh, nothing much…" She says as she cracked the shells of a pair of eggs on the edge of a frying pan. She paused before turning back to the two at the table, with a pink tint on her face. "Actually… There's a fair going on downtown! And Kira is going to take me!"
Kira spat all of the tea that he was drinking back into the cup.
"He is?" "I am?" Both Hayato and Kira said in unison.
Shinobu giggled at the reaction, she knows that Kira wouldn't say know but will still get flustered, made evident by the fact that he is currently shielding his red-hot face by the cup of tea, starting to sweat a bit beginning to form.
"I- I don't know… Shinobu, I have things to do…" Kira said, putting his hand up.
"Oh, really? I didn't know sulking in your apartment listening to Morioh-Cho radio or the entire News of the World album took up so much of your free time~" Shinobu jokingly shrugged, not turning back to face the other two. (News of the World, the Queen album.)
Kira groan and slouched in his chair, defeated. Hayato only blinked. Feeling like he has been caught in the middle of an inside joke he doesn't understand. Shinobu turned around to flash Kira a jubilant smile. "C'mon it will be fun!" she cooed.
Hayato watched as Kira's face began to flush once again as the blonde man heard each word that was coming out of Shinobu's mouth. Hayato only gritted his teeth at resigned exasperation. He knows that the connection between his mother and Kira is one beyond the normal friendship, and he feels like the two parties don't notice it, or rather, does but the two parties are too stubborn to act upon it. Hayato can only watch, gritting his teeth a bit while he droops his face.
After Shinobu makes a nice breakfast, she waited until he finished before kissing him on the top of the head. "You sure that you don't want to come along?" Shinobu asked, about to pass through the door, only looking back at her son.
"It's fine, it's fine!" Hayato waved her off, in reassurance. "Go have your fun! I'll be here watching TV!"
"Okay! See you later. Don't do anything nefarious while we are gone!" She said before slowly closing the door, leaving the 11-year-old stand user alone in the apartment.
Tick. The clock on the wall sounded out.
Tick.
Tick.
"You wanna go commit some nefarious shit?" Fortunate Son manifested behind its master.
"HELL YEAH!" Hayato made a mischievous face.
A very tall man walked through the streets of busy Morioh-Cho. He was tanner than the people around him, sporting a pair of aviators, a black Chicago White Sox baseball cap. He also wore white buttoned-down shirt and black slacks. Obviously, he wasn't Japanese, and he leisurely walked around with his hands behind his head. It wouldn't but unusual for the residents of the small town to take a second glance at the man, but oddly none of them even notice he is there… Almost as if he doesn't exist.
"I… Don't know, Martin… Are you sure that the rockstar taking the arrow from the Nijimura is a good thing?" A high pitched, disembodied voice talked to the American, only he is able to hear. "Are you sure that this won't amount to a war between your group and a faction formed by him?"
"My friend." (He says this in English…) "There is nothing to worry about it. If a War breaks out between us and him, we'll be able to kill him, and everyone in his shitty little pact…"
He spoke these threats aloud, not caring if anyone heard him, it's not like anyone can hear him anyways…
"Sh… SHH! You shouldn't be saying these things out loud. What if someone hears you!" The voice begged Martin to shut the fuck up before he got himself into trouble.
"Ah- That's filthy fucking rich coming from you, vagabundo…" Martin sighed. (Translation from Portuguese, 'tramp') Martin turned and walked up to a police officer, leaning on his patrol car, looking around to see if there was any crime afoot. "Watch, watch, watch. Ahem. Hello Officer! I am responsible for murdering at least 4 people in the last 72 hours!"
The officer didn't seem to notice Martin as he confessed to a handful of murders that he actually committed; the officer didn't notice him as he took off his aviators, showing off his oceanic blue irises and his pearly white smile. The officer turned to look at the other side of the sidewalk, eyes passing over Martin without a second thought.
"See that? No reaction, no second thought, no confused screaming. Absolutely not a fucking thing!" Martin proceeded the inhale though his nose and spit on the officer's uniform, leaving a saliva stain mixed in with a bit of mucus.
Martin walked away to listen to a small amount of chaos that followed. "What the fu- WHEN THE HELL DID I GET THIS ON MY UNIFORM?"
"Martin, listen to me… There will be a day where you learn that your stand will not have a 100% safety rate. There will be someone that you don't know who will remember you…" The voice got low, serious, wanting the ever-arrogant Martin to listen.
"You're so overdramatic…" Martin dragged out. "And you are starting to annoy me…"
"Martin…"
"I'm drowning you out now…" Martin took out a small, black MP3 player and connected it to his thin headphones, putting them on and hitting the "play" button.
The MP3 immediately started to play "Paint It, Black" by the Rolling Stones. He placed the MP3 player back into his pocket and kept walking, ignoring any pestering the voice had for him. Eventually, he found himself standing in front of an inconspicuous building, a red brick structure with multiple windows. It looked out of its surrounding buildings, but no one takes notice as they assume as it's just a laundromat, which it is… on the surface at least.
"We're here…" Martin said as he entered the building, glancing around at the empty washing machines and dryers that form rows down to the end of the building, where a single brown door that says "Employees Only" in Kanji, stands. As Martin approaches the door, he opened his mouth to speak once again. "When we are in there, it is important to know… Do not ask any of them what their Stand is… If they trust you enough… They will tell you."
"Oh wow, isn't that just fucking perfect for me? They're going to have a lot of questions about me!" The voice said.
"Woah, whoa! Slow down there potty mouth! I'll back you up if they have questions. I am the most respected out of all of them…" Martin said as he grabbed the door handle.
The opened it and step through, the brightness from the sun's golden morning shine, replace immediately by a dark red hue, in a slim hallway that seemed to extend all the way to the void. Martin, unfazed by all of this, walked through.
"Allons enfants de la Patrie…" A third voice began to darkly chant the lyrics of the French National Anthem, La Marseilles in its native french, "Aux armes, citoyens… Entendez-vous dans les campagnes mugir ces féroces soldats?"
Martin stops walking when he saw a figure, standing in the middle of the hallway, the figure, obscured in the red darkness. "ils ne passeront pas…"
The sound of a switch flipping echoed down the long corridor, the darkness replaced by a blinding white light almost immediately. The figure was finally revealed, a lanky, skinny man, wearing a purple fedora, with a pink feather on the right side of his head, wearing a long, rustic brown trench coat, seemingly from a detective noir film, but neon.
"M. K. Ultra…" He spoke to Martin in English. "Fashionably late as always…" (Christ this is when I realized that there is going to be a lot of language changes, I am sorry…)
"Welp, I have my license for being late right here officer…" Martin flicks his arm, catching a small piece of pink paper in his hand, flashing it to the Frenchman, reading "License to be Fashionably Late…" in English.
The Frenchman only sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Ugh… You are insufferable…" The Frenchman turned to continue down the corridor. "Come now… The others are waiting…"
Martin and the Frenchman walk down the hallway, until it seemed to discolor and distort itself, causing them to enter a new room, if you looked behind the Frenchman and Martin, you would notice that there is no entrance to the hallway, only a blank grey wall. In the new room was a round table with exactly 10 seats surrounding it. However, only 5 seats were inhabited.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, not this shit again!" Martin groaned (this time in Spanish) as he points at one chair in particular, on the chair, a man sat with a woman on top of his lap, carefully stroking his hair. "Will you guys ever get a goddamn room?"
"If it pisses you off, we will not…" The woman responded, in Spanish.
"So much for being the most respected…" The voice teased Martin as he grits his teeth as he slouches in annoyance.
"Shut your mouth…" Martin retorted…
"What… Was that?" The Frenchman asked, in Japanese.
"Nothing that we won't discuss today…" Martin clasped his hands together. "Let us start this meeting, we will conduct it exclusively in Japanese…"
The Frenchman took his seat, but the woman didn't, thus 6 out of the 10 seats have been occupied.
"As you may know, our Japanese representative, Anjuro Katagiri has been taken out. Who took him out? Doesn't matter, all we know is that he is gone."
"Good. Fuck that motherfucker. We are the psychopathic. Sadistic. Murderous. But we aren't pedophiles, rapists." One man said, getting nods of agreement from the other wo were present, including Martin.
"Yes, yes. He definitely did leave a bad taste in our mouths… But not to fear, since I have found a suitable replacement for him…" Martin reached in his pocket pulling out a small polaroid picture, showing the table its negative end. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you to one of my oldest friends, hailing from this very town of Morioh, allow me to present to you… Kira, Yoshihiro…"
The Polariod began to float upwards and straighten itself out, reveal a fully animated image of a person, specifically an old man, with balding white hair, a goatee, and a red shirt. "Yoshihiro died as a result of 4th Stage Stomach Cancer, but has been reincarnated into this…"
"Is this the result of a stand?" A woman asked.
"That is none of your business." Yoshihiro spoke in his serious tone.
Martin extended his arm out to gesture at the people sitting at the table. "Yoshihiro has been my friend for many years, and he's done some pretty wacky shit in his lifetime. Yoshihiro, welcome to The Killing Floor. The World's Largest collection of Stand Using Serial Killers."
Everyone stood up sincerity to welcome Yoshihiro into their ranks.
"Each of them has a stand tailor made to kill, and to get away with it. John Wayne Gacy, Ted Bundy, Peter Kurten. Those guys ain't got shit on us."
Martin pointed at a man, wearing a thick, blue winter coat in the middle of Summer, not seemingly sweating, unbothered by the heat, he had messy brown hair, and he looked aged considerably, but you will be surprised to learn that he is 22. "That is our Russian Representative, Lebedinoye. Or, L.I. for short. He lived in both the hellscape of Siberia, and the deserts of Uzbekistan. Built to destroy, and to massacre entire towns if necessary…"
Next was the couple. The Woman looked considerably taller, but she was slim built, with red irises and red and jet-black cascading hair. "That is Zarzuela from Spain. An Anarchic Terrorist, she likes to go for the more subtle approach when dispatching targets." He then pointed at the short man, with golden blonde hair, which was slicked backwards, he didn't seem too buff or too skinny, but he seemed rather bland, with an expression that reminded of Yoshihiro of his own son. "Now that is Saxxy, he's Belgian, he's quiet, but likes to cause a big scene as a distraction before killing his targets."
Next was the Neon Noir Frenchman. "That is Macabre, a French connoisseur of more high prolific murder. His specialty is to take out big names, such as politicians, actors, and activists. But he does so in the most casual way possible. Almost like a random street thug getting lucky."
He then turned his attention to the smallest person in the room. It was a kid, no older than 15, wearing a blue long sleeve shirt, atop a white collared shirt, with long brown pants. He looked extremely gruff for his age, wearing multiple long scars on his face. His irises were an impossible shade of black. "That is Sweetlick, the youngest member of our group, and possibly the most terrifying. He likes to encase his victims in formalin and send it to their loved ones as an intimidation technique. An assassin for hire he has been recruited by some of Europe's most volatile gangs."
Next was a massive (Easily 6'8), stout, considerably older man, maybe around the age of Yoshihiro when he succumbed to his cancer. He wore a three-piece suit, and most of his lower face was burned, and his right eye permanently shut due to a large cut. "Holst. The Monster of Manchester. He is able to kill with a single punch, and his chops can dismember human flesh with ease. You care for a round of bare-knuckle boxing Holst?"
Martin jokingly put up his fists at the behemoth, who only responded with a huff, causing Martin to chuckle. "Yeah, yeah. I know that wouldn't end well for me."
Finally, he pointed at one last person. Yoshihiro couldn't see much of her face, as it was covered up by a big, tattered brown hoodie. But even he could see her blood red lips. "And we have Dies Irae, the Angel of Death. Poisons are her specialty. Did you ever hear about the Ingolstadt Incident? 400 People poisoned from an ingestible chemical agent known as 'Urteilsvermögen,' that was her."
"Very impressive…" Yoshihiro nodded, seeing Dies Irae's mouth curve into a smile.
"And… Uh… Jesus Christ, will our Italian representative ever show up for any of our meetings?" Martin asked, pointing at another, empty seat.
"Actually… He finally showed up…" Sweetlick pointed at a particularly dark portion of the room.
"HE WHAT?" Martin screamed out, in utter shock.
"Not quite… But the boss sends his regards…" Another, extremely deep voice said from the shadow.
Stepping out of the shadow was a 6'1", silver haired an, with a black hood, and a long lapelless coat, under it was a tight, black shirt that showed off his chiseled physique. His skin was pale, and his eyes (more specifically, his irises) were black, with creamy white sclera.
"The name is Risotto Nero. The boss whom you specifically asked to join your faction is not one to make any public appearance, so he specifically sent me in his place. I am the head of La Squadra Esecuzioni… Passione's Execution, or Hitman team…" He explained.
"Risotto? Like the Italian rice dish?" Macabre chuckled.
"You'd be surprised at the names of my associates…" He said before taking a seat next to the Frenchman, not bothering to glance at him.
"Huh… Welp. That's all I had for today-"
"Hold on…" Holst said, opening his wallet at taking out a small photograph with his heavily scarred hand, putting in front of Yoshihiro and Martin. It was one of Kira, Yoshikage Kira. "Yoshihiro Kira, as in… Yoshikage Kira."
Yoshihiro didn't say anything at first, only thinning his lips in careful examination of the British Brute.
"Y-Yes… That is my son…" He said, causing everyone but Risotto to perk their heads up.
"And he is a stand user… Correct?" Holst continued to question him.
"Yes… And he used his stand to kill before…" Yoshihiro swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to mention Kira's breakdown that occurred immediately after Tomei Kunimido's death.
"Do you think, your son will be a threat… Or an asset to the Killing Floor? And should we be worried about your connections to him, being his father and all?"
"Of course not. Kira's stand is powerful, but his negligence to use it will make it weak, and if he does become a threat to… us… Im sure that you alone will be enough to stop him…" The words he is uttering is breaking his own heart, he cares a lot about Kira, but he knows it is better to be on the side of The Killing Floor instead of being enemies with them.
The Scarred Behemoth analyzed the Polaroid Ghost in front of him, only shrugging a bit before sitting back down. "That will be all, thank you for your time…"
"If that's all, I think Yoshihiro and I will take out leave. Macabre, help us out…" Martin said, going up to the grey wall.
"Yeah, yeah…" Macabre said moving his hand a bit, causing a dark red and black corridor to open up.
"Merci, mon frere…" Martin waved before disappearing into the void, and the corridor seals in a haze.
Silence envelopes the room.
"I don't trust Yoshihiro's words…" Sweetlick said, opening up a bag of lollipops and throwing two at Dies Irae and Macabre.
"M. K. seems to trust him… But should we?" L.I. said tapping his finger on the table.
"I trust M. K. with all my heart, but I'm questioning his integrity… What do you think mi amor?" Zarzuela asked Saxxy, stroking his chin, who only grunted in response.
"What about you, newbie? You're awfully quiet…" Sweetlick, and then the rest of the Killing Floor all looked at Risotto who was lounging about.
"Don't call me newbie. And I do not have diplomacy in this situation as I have known Mr. Ultra for all of 12 minutes. I only learned how to speak 9 more languages to take a contract for this organization to go about business, not squabble in politics…" Risotto explained.
"Oh! A contract? How much you getting paid?" Sweetlick leaned in with a smirk.
"Wouldn't you like to know, child?" Risotto retorted, receiving a groan and the bird from the young gangster.
"How about this?" Macabre said as he crunched on his cherry flavored lollipop. "We kill Yoshihiro's son now… To not worry about it later. It's not like Yoshihiro can do anything, he's already dead… And M. K. may care more for the organization than him…"
"I like the sound of that!" Holst said hitting the table in front of his twice with his massive hand.
"Then it is settled, Macabre? Would you like to do the honors?" L. I. asked the Frenchman.
"Gladly…"
"Damn it!" Shinobu whined, lowering her cork rifle to see that she in fact not hit a single box. "I was so close this time!"
"Maybe marksmanship isn't really your forte, Shinobu…" Kira deadpanned as he exchanged Yen for a cork rifle of his own.
"Oh well if you're such an expert at it why don't you take a slice?" Shinobu jokingly hissed at Kira who just rolls his eyes before lining up his rifle.
He pulled the trigger and watches at the cork blasts out and hits a box, only for it to deflect off of it and land on the floor, in front of the smug host.
"Oh! Better luck next time…" he said with a shrug.
"That- That's bullshit… this is a scam…" Kira sighed under his breath.
"Maybe marksmanship isn't really your forte, Kira~" Shinobu poked the side of Kira's head, who only deflated a bit. "C'mon, there still so much more to explore, we haven't gotten to the snacks yet."
"I don't know, maybe sulking in my room all day doesn't sound like a bad idea after all…" Kira joked as he began to walk again.
"Jesus Christ, you're so dramatic." Shinobu sighed.
They continued to walk down the lane, looking at some games, Kira watches as Shinobu plays some games. Despite her losing, and by losing, I mean losing a lot, Kira still can't seem to shake the feeling like everything she does is seems flawless. He blushes at this thought.
"How many prizes have you won so far?" Kira asked a, let's just say miffed Shinobu.
"None…" she furiously whispered.
"And how much money did you waste on games alone?"
"I don't want to talk about it…" She huffed.
"You don't have to answer that question, I have been keeping count, you spend approximately 50,000 yen… I think you have a gambling problem." Kira mused.
"Oh, shut up you!" Shinobu said before punching Kira in the arm.
It didn't hurt Kira, he felt worse, a lot worse… (Where does getting shot approximately 30 times by tiny bullets from Bad Company lie on the Pain Scale?) But he feels funny about it, maybe Shinobu feels comfortable around him now to make more physical contact. He puts his hand on the area where she punched, smiling a bit. (Guys, hes not a masochist I swear, he's just touch starved.)
"How about one more game!" Shinobu said, punching her palm while smiling at Kira.
"No." Kira responded instantaneously.
"But look at those cute cat plushies, I just want to squish 'em~" Shinobu began to become unintelligible as she is currently having a stroke from a cuteness overload.
"Ugh! Excuse me sir, can you tell me what this game about?" Kira asked the host for the stand while Shinobu gushes over how cute the cat plushies are.
"Certainly, I will give you a baseball for 250 yen, and if you can knock down that bottle…" His voice didn't sound as snotty as the cork rifle host, but something about him seemed mustache twirly.
"Give me three!" She popped out behind Kira, outing up three fingers and startling the blonde man.
"Okay, that will be 750 yen please."
"Okay! I have it righ-" She opened her purse to look inside, retaining her happy-go-lucky expression before falling to the floor on her hands and knees, looking defeated. "I'm out of money…"
"Oh, wow that is such a tragedy, but that will teach you on your poor spending habits- oi!" Kira was all smug until Shinobu tugged on his hand.
"Kiraaaaaa… Play for me…" She whined.
"Absolutely fucking not." Kira said but refusing to snatch his hand away from the woman.
"Please…" She widened her eyes, to make them seem like puppy dog eyes.
Something panged inside of Kira's chest, he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth before ultimately relenting.
"Fine!" He pulled out 250 yen from his pocket. "But give me just one…"
Shinobu squealed in delight as the host gave him a single ball. But to Kira's surprise, it wasn't a normal baseball. Instead, it was a very dense, white rubber ball with red stitches drawn on it. Its heaviness would make throwing it long distances very difficult, but it wasn't impossible. Kira himself is stronger than the average joe, maybe because he was a stand user, but it's not safe to assume. Kira used the length of his finger to calculate the distance of the large white bottle. And using Calculus he calculates the amount of force he needs to throw the ball at the to make it to the jug. (You must be an absolute clown if you think I'm going to sit here and write the entire formula.) He puts his knee u, readying his throw, and using all the force he needed, he threw the ball.
The ball connected! And an audible clank rang out, but to Kira's shock, it didn't move, not even a bit, not even wobble. Impossible. That should have fallen over. And it should have… Unless…
"Oof, what luck. I guess the pretty lady ain't getting her cat plu-" The Host stopped when Kira shoved another 250 in his hand.
"Another one… Now." Kira didn't want to come off as threatening, but the Host swallowed before handing Kira another ball.
Kira didn't bother with his calculations this time as he knew how hard he needed to throw to at least make contact with that bottle.
Killer Queen. Can you transfer explosive energy from one object to another? Kira internally asked his stand.
[Yes, it will result in an automatic explosion that will destroy the object that absorbs the energy.] Killer Queen explained.
Excellent….
Killer Queen's fingers manifested, touching the ball before Kira chucked it at the bottle. Everything happened so fast, and the bottle disintegrated instantly, giving the illusion that Kira knocked it over. The Host gasped and went to the stand where the bottle once stood on, looking around at its edges.
"Uh, sir. I think I knocked it down." Kira stated, visibly smug.
"Uh- uh." The still shellshocked Host peeled his eyes away from looking for the now cremated bottle. "I- uh… Guess you did sir."
Kira personally got the biggest stuffed cat and handed it to the astonished Shinobu. She took one look at the cat, squishing a bit to test its elasticity, before looking up at Kira with stars in your eyes.
"Thank you! THANK YOU!" She said, like a kid who got exactly what she wanted for Christmas.
"It's fine, you don't need to thank me-" Caught in the heat of the moment, Shinobu leaned in and gave Kira a peck on the cheek, teetering dangerously close to his lips.
Kira's face flared up red, his eyes widening, slapping his hand on his mouth. Realizing her mistake, Shinobu began to panic, and bowed profusely to him.
"I'm sorry! I didn't think you wouldn't like it!" She began flailing one of her arms as the other was holding the cat plushie, her face also beat red.
"I-t it's okay…" Kira weakly said. He liked the fact that Shinobu kissed him, but it still made him extremely embarrassed, and he felt extremely guilty about reacting his way, as he didn't mean to embarrass Shinobu.
The awkward moment didn't last long however, as the sound of Metal colliding in the distance broke their concentration. Whatever made that must have been going extremely fast. A car accident maybe.
"What the hell was that?" "Holy shit! There is a car flipped over!" "What'd they hit! Their entire front side is caved!" A crowd began to form, and Kira forgot about the vents that just occurred seconds ago, without a second thought he began to walk towards the crowd.
"Kira? Where are you going?" Shinobu asked as he walked off, following close behind him. Unlike the blonde man, she is still extremely embarrassed for kissing him, or rather, the way he reacted.
5 minutes Earlier…
"So… The hell are you going to do?" Fortunate Son asked Hayato who was just aimlessly wandering the streets.
Hayato paused before turning to his stand. "Hold on this whole 'commit some nefarious shit' was your idea? And now you're wondering what we are supposed to do?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Coaches don't play. I gave you the idea, and it is your job to drive yourself to the direction of fun. Call me when you need me…" A with a poof, Fortunate Son disappeared to Hayato's annoyance.
"This, is bullshit." Hayato whispered to himself as he continued to walk down the mostly empty sidewalk, mumbling curses to himself, and by extension, Fortunate Son.
It was still morning, the sun was still far from setting anytime soon, and Hayato had no idea what to do. Maybe declining the request to go to the fair wasn't the greatest of ideas. Suddenly, when Hayato wasn't paying attention, he ran into someone at full speed, almost falling over but the person whom he ran into caught him by grabbing his shirt.
"Whoa kid, sorry, didn't see you there…" A man said with an American accent.
Hayato looked up to see a very tall man wearing a pair of aviators, a black Chicago White Sox baseball cap smiling down on him, Martin K. Ultra. Hayato regained his balance before bowing in silent apology, but before he could walk away the man spoke up once again.
"Hey, Kid. You seem familiar, have I seen you before?" Martin asked, it is unclear if he remembers him sitting outside the Nijimura house after Kira's Battle with Keicho and Okuyasu, or if he remembers him because he looks vaguely similar to Kosaku, the man Martin tried to kill a couple of months ago.
"I never seen you before, have a nice day sir…" Hayato said, uneasy.
"He does look familiar, perhaps he knows Kira…" Another, high pitched voice said.
"K- Kira? Who said that?" Hayato asked, looking around for another person in the vicinity.
"Y- you heard that?" Martin widened his eyes before stumbling backwards a bit. "You're a stand user?"
"Y- yes. Who are yo-" Before Hayato can finish, Martin lunged at him with an a extended, and manifesting from his arm, was a shiny blade, attached to a skinny, pale arm.
It was going after Hayato's jugular, going at blinding speeds, but Fortunate Son was faster, appearing out of thin air and catching the blade with ease. Martin clenched his teeth, before extending another arm, with a similar blade, whipping it around seeing if it could get passed Fortunate Son. However, Fortunate Son was able to deflect all strikes without injuring itself, or Hayato.
Shit, this kid is impossible to kill, I need to activate plan B. Suddenly, Martin put up a backwards peace sign, and suddenly Hayato found himself in the middle of the street. He didn't have time to process anything as a massive truck was barreling towards him at high speeds.
"Holy shit- Fortunate Son!" Hayato screamed out, manifesting his Stand as it rams its face into the grill of the truck, causing the entire thing to launch in the air, over Hayato, and crash back down onto multiple cars, leaving the sound of metal colliding and destruction in its wake.
Hayato looked back to the sidewalk where he was once standing on, seeing Martin hauling ass down the sidewalk. Hayato spared no second thought and chased after him, wanting answers, wanting to know why he attacked him. He Martin dashed into an alley way, and Hayato did the same, but when he reached the end of the alley, he reached a dead end, with no Martin in sight. The kid looked around to find nobody, cursing loudly he kicked a can.
"I'm sure that truck collision attracted a lot of attention. It is best if we went home, master." Fortunate Son spoke to Hayato.
"… Yeah, sounds good…" Hayato huffed, before walking out of the alleyway and towards his apartment.
If Hayato had stayed a few more second, if Hayato were just to look up, he would see Martin with his arms firmly planted on two different walls, in the corner of the alley, looking down on the kid. Martin was sweating, tired, shocked and confused.
"You know… I don't want to say I told you so…" Yoshihiro grimaced as he floated out of Martin's pocket. "But I told you so. Your Stand didn't work to erase his memories of your existence."
"You shut your fucking mouth, Yoshihiro." Martin growled. "You shut… Your goddamn mouth Old Man…"
End of Episode 6
Musical References: Each OC member of the Killing Floor's name is based after a classical music piece or composers
Macabre: Named after the piece "Danse Macabre" by Camille Saint-Saens
Dies Irae: Named after the opening to Mozart's "Requiem," titled "Dies Irae" or "Day of Wrath"
Sweetlick: His name is based off Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck, a Dutch Composer and Organist
Holst: Named after Gustav Theodore Holst, or Gustav Holst, an English Composer
Saxxy: Named after "The Saxaphone," an instrument invented in Belgium by Adolphe Sax
Zarzuela: Named after the style of Spanish Opera "zarzuela"
L. I. (Lebedinoye): Named after the Russian Translation of "Swan Lake," "Lebedinoye Ozero"