Jojo's Bizarre Adventures: Golden Wind is the creation of Hirohiko Araki and the names of most OC stands and characters are the creation of vanillaprinces. Check their account on Tumblr today!
Vento Aureo SBR AU: Golden Blood
Chapter 10: Doctor of Hatre-nomics Part 1
"Let me get this straight…" Trish had her eyes closed as she replayed the entire, seemingly ludicrous story that was just dictated to her. "You… Th- The reason why you weren't able to get me food was because on your way back, you were attacked by one of the most dangerous terrorists from Napoli, fought him, and blew him up using the gas pipes, and shot him. All of this in broad daylight? And you just expect me to… Believe that?"
"How can I make this shit up?" Narancia's cry was muffled by the bread he was chewing on.
"Narancia, don't eat while you are eating!" Fugo chopped the tan boy on the top of the head, causing Narancia to yelp and grip his head. "Anyways, Narancia is not smart enough to make that intricate of a lie with so much detail, so we must take his word on it."
"Did you just call me an idiot?" Narancia shouted, perplexed.
"I am calling you the stupidest bastardo I know!" Fugo responded with equal intensity, before calming himself down so as to not do anything irrational in front of the daughter of the most powerful crime boss in the Eastern United States and Europe. "It is clear that you are not familiar with the supernatural."
Trish quirked an eyebrow. "Supernatural? Like ghosts and daemons?"
"Demons aren't real…" Narancia mumbled as he jammed another piece of bread into his mouth.
"Not quite." Fugo said before pulling a dull, purple steel ball from seemingly out of nowhere. The steel ball began to spin rapidly, seemingly floating centimeters away from the palm of Fugo's hand.
"WOAH, HOWEE 'UCK." Narancia flinched violently staring wide eyed into a random corner of a room, bread still stuck in his mouth.
Fugo pointed at the direction of Narancia's gaze. "Do you see that?"
Trish's emerald eyes stared into the corner that the other boys were staring at, only to see… nothing. Just the auburn walls of the Bucciarati abode, with an inconspicuous looking drawer at the end of the wall, and nothing more.
"Unless that drawer down there is possessed by a vengeful spirit, I see nothing." Trish deadpanned at the boys, still confused at Narancia's spontaneous reaction to nothing.
"Untrue. There is something there, except since you are not a stand user, you won't be able to see it." Fugo responded, side eyeing Narancia, who was in the process of breathing in and out slowly. "A stand is a projection of one's fighting spirit, taking the form of anything relating to the power it gives you, and aspects of your personality."
Trish stared into Fugo's pale green eyes, looking at him as if he suddenly turned into a walrus. Turning her head to gaze upon the area where Narancia and Fugo saw… something, she couldn't help but feel a presence there. Invisible. Potent. Angry.
"'It's a Stand…' Caligula whispered to himself, but loud enough for Pattie to hear from below."
Caligula knows what stands are.
It dawned on her. Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, getting caught in her throat. "Caligula…"
She is suddenly brought back to reality to see Narancia attempting to strangle his dirty blonde-haired friend.
"FOTTUTO IDIOTA! WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU ABOUT SUMMONING IT AROUND ME. YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING SCARY IT LOOKS?" Narancia screamed into Fugo's face.
"LET ME GO, CAGNA!" Fugo strained out a scream as Narancia had a vice grip around his neck, shaking him back and forth, threatening to snap his neck. Fugo's only resistance were his two fists slamming into the tan boy's solar plexus multiple time.
"Alright, alright shut the hell up!" ABBA shouted at the boys who immediately stopped fighting, and let go of each other, both struggling to regain their breath.
"ABBA!" Trish wailed out grabbing ABBA by their purple corset jacket, looking up at the purple haired gangster with pleading eyes. "My bodyguard! Caligula! HE'S- HE'S STILL OUT THERE. H- HE TOLD ME TO RUN WHEN WE GOT A- A- ATTACKED!"
"Woah, woah- WOAH, kid, slow down. Breath." ABBA put up a hand. "Sixteen, seven, twenty-five, three, eight, thirty-four. Repeat those numbers I said…"
Trish began sobbing rambling incoherently, tears pouring out like broken floodgates, her entire constitution was trembling, and her breath became shallow, erratic.
"Sixteen… s-seven, twenty-five…" Trish let go of a shaky breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Three… eight… thirty-four."
ABBA smiled before patting Trish on the top of her head. "Good job!"
[Note: For anyone who is trying to help someone on the verge of a panic attack, make them repeat numbers out of order. The brain is incapable of panic when it is trying to remember numbers out of order and can calm down someone long enough for them to be consoled.]
"Now, when was the last time you saw your bodyguard before Narancia found you?"
"Th- The shopping district, an alley coming out of the West Side."
"West side." Narancia scratched his chin, racking his brain to remember the events of the previous night. His eyes widen slightly before punching the palm of his hand. "That's where that crazy ass lightning thing happened when I ran into her!"
"Alright! Now we know where to start looking, I am the main investigator for the Little Italy district of Passione, so I think I'll be able to find your bodyguard. C'mon, let's go!"
"ALRIGHT! TO THE SHOPPING DISTRICT!" Narancia cheered as he threw a fist in the air.
"Oooooh no, not this shit again. You guys aren't going anywhere." ABBA snarled, pointing a finger at the boy.
"WHAT? Why?" The tan stand user wines as his cheerfulness deflated.
"1. I am still angry that you followed me and Bucciarati to the shoe factory in Chinatown and getting yourself caught."
"In my defense I had no idea where they were dragging me to." Fugo said as he raised his hand.
"Shut up. And 2. You were literally attacked by Oyecomova of all people not even an hour ago. You, Narancia, are staying right here, or we are NOT going to buy you orange juice for a month."
"But ABBA!" Narancia whine.
"Niente ABBA, niente di niente." ABBA turned to Fugo. "You stay here and watch him. Okay?"
"Capiche." Fugo gave ABBA the 'okay' hand gesture.
Satisfied, ABBA nodded, grabbing Trish by the arm and leading her out the door. Narancia sighed heavily before laying down on the wooden floor, staring up at the ceiling.
"Merda… Grounded again." Fugo stayed quiet as he stared out the door that ABBA and Trish exited from. "So, wanna tell me more about Sheila E or are you going to admit she is just your imagination?"
Fugo opted to stare at Narancia with a blank expression.
"What?" Narancia asked.
The thick stench of the Little Italy air is enough to make even the most content person in the world gag, as it smells of smoke and rotten meat from the factories that litter the area gave the city itself a low haze of cancerous mog that all of the citizens breathe in on a day-to-day basis.
Two sets of heels clicked on the dusty concrete sidewalk, one calm, the other antsy, restrained from breaking into a sprint. ABBA looked over at Trish, genuine fear plastered on the purple haired girl's face, sweat trickling down the side of the girl's head despite the cool temperature around them, her figure quaking with each step. The purple haired gangster put a hand on the heiress's shoulder.
"I know that you're stressed, but you need to stay stoic. We can't have the next Donna of Passione looking like a nervous wreck, it will make you seem weak."
Trish scoffed and scowled at ABBA but obliged. Her body quickly halted its trembling, and her footsteps began to stutter less, however all of the uneasy and rattling fear transferred over to her jaw, teeth chattering in suspense, to which ABBA did not fail to notice. However, they refrained from commenting on it as Trish made an effort to improve and maintain her necessitated air of superiority. They continued walking down the road that led into the Shopping District, but as they rounded a corner, they saw two police officers standing by the entrance of a seemingly normal alleyway, chatting idly, but far too low for ABBA to hear anything in particular.
The mere presence of the officers was enough to make ABBA grimace, however, they were immediately broken out of their trance by the sudden hyperventilating coming from Trish right beside them.
"Kid-"
"That's the alley where I last saw Caligula!" Trish wheezed out before sprinting full speed toward the officers to get a better look at the crime scene.
The rapid footsteps of Trish's brown leather heels caused the officers to look at Trish's direction, spotting her before she could get past them and into the alley.
"Woah, woah, woah, little missy, where do you think you're going?" The lanky officer with a handlebar mustache said as he, along with his fat partner, restrained Trish by the arms.
"Yeah, this is an active crime scen- oi, quite kicking!" The fat officer growled as he got kicked in the shin multiple times.
"Let. Me. Go. You. Bastards!" The Donna Heiress emphasized each word with an individual kick aimed at both police officers who winced slightly.
"Ciambell, Sarto! Let that girl go, she's the Donna's daughter!" ABBA yelled at the two police officers who stopped restraining her as the girl ceased her struggles but continued to hold on to her arms for good measure.
The fat officer, Ciambell, stared at ABBA with a gob smacked expression. "The Donna's daughter?" He looked at Trish, noting her purple hair, smooth porcelain skin, and her silky clothing. "Oh, shit it is, look at that- IEEEE!"
Ciambell let out a high pitch scream, holding his family jewels as Trish had just drove her leather shoe into the officer's crotch, causing Sarto to back up and hiss as he, along with every other man in a 12-block radius felt the pain of a thousand deaths that comes with being in the presence of a man who had just had his manhood struck with merciless precision.
"What in the hell are you two doing dressed up as Poliziotti?" ABBA snarled at Sarto who put his hands up defensively.
"S- Signor Bucciarati and Polpo instated the divisione di sorveglianza to the police so we can have a proper foothold after Bucciarati exterminated all of the corrupt officers that were loyal to other gangs!"
"Bucciarati that bastard…" ABBA growled as they tensed up their fingers in a threatening manner with a deep, vicious scowl on their face. "The next time I see that figilio di puttana I am going to strangle him!"
Sarto, Ciambell, and Trish all gulp at the overbearing murderous intent that ABBA is exuding before they finally calmed down enough to turn back towards the crime scene.
"Anyways, we are here because we are looking for Ms. Patrizia's bodyguard who disappeared last night, and this was the last place she saw him…" ABBA explained, noticing the nervous expression on the officers' face.
"Yeah, about that…" Sarto pointed inside the alley, there laid a white cloth draped onto the ground, surrounded by a dark puddle of brownish red.
Trish's heart plummeted all the way down to her stomach as she realized that the drape was covering a dead body, her legs suddenly felt wobbly, and weak. ABBA quickly sauntered over to the body, crouching down to lift up the white cloth draped over it. Their eyebrows furrowed, before lifting the drape off completely, revealing the entire corpse.
The corpse was that of a middle-aged Caucasian man, with dirty, baggy clothes, unkept facial hair and disheveled brown hair, a man who definitely doesn't seem to match the description of a bodyguard.
"Does this look like a bodyguard to you idioti?" ABBA yelled at the two Passione informants, before turning their gaze over to the Donna Heiress, "This this Caligula?"
Trish hesitantly inspected the body, but relief immediately flooded her when she registered that it was in fact no Caligula's dead body, shaking her in response to ABBA.
"Caligula? As in Caligula 'The Demon Child' Risot- ow!" Ciambell was silenced by a stern kick to the chest by Trish, knocking him to the ground.
"HE IS NOT A DEMON CHILD YOU, STRONZO! HE IS A HUMAN BEING!" Trish roared at the downed informant who is slightly whimpering, seething with every breath she takes.
"If this was the last place you saw Caligula, then he shouldn't have strayed far from here." ABBA put a finger on their chin in contemplation, before snapping. "I am going to use [Ring-Ring] to see what happened to hi-"
ABBA was cut off by a blood curdling scream coming from Trish. ABBA quickly turned around and immediately drew their Colt M1892, pointing in her direction. Trish was crawling away backwards, and ABBA just caught Ciambell and Sarto's heads slowly rolling off their stumps as their bodies crumpled unceremoniously to the ground. Trish recoiled and wretched violently as Ciambell's severed head bumped into the Donna Heiress's foot and looked up at her with an expression of shock and confusion.
"KID, GET BEHIND ME!" ABBA ordered, to which she immediately obliged, cowering behind the purple haired gangster as they point the pistol at the mouth of the alley. Low footsteps began to get louder and louder as both ABBA and Trish felt the pressure in the air increase, a wave of nauseous killing intent beginning to drown them. Then they stopped as they reached its crescendo.
"Show yourself." ABBA hissed.
Rounding the corner was a woman of average height with long, shining black hair and blood red eyes. She had a bright white dress that cuts off at her ankles, and a similarly colored bandolier displaying an assortment of knives.
"Hello~" The woman chirped in an upbeat tone. "I am Spilla! Are you Patrizia Madonna?"
"What's it to you?" ABBA asked, still keeping their crosshairs pointed square at the chest of the knife wielder.
"Oh, I am sorry. I don't recall speaking to you." Spilla maintained her innocent smile and tone of voice as she pulled a knife from her bandolier and threw it at ABBA's face in quick succession, piercing the air with incredible speeds.
ABBA widened their eyes and quickly jumped out of the way of the knife's path, but it still shattered their circular, black tinted sunglasses. ABBA was quickly to put a hand on their left cheek and looked at her fingers, coated in a small amount of blood. Shit, it only grazed me, but that was too damn close.
The purple haired gangster immediately fired off 3 shots at Spilla, however, her speed and precision knife wielding led her to slice all three .38 LC bullets in midair.
"I must admit, you have some skill!" Spilla complimented ABBA before throwing two more knives at them, who just sidestepped each of them before they landed their marks on their thigh. "I am only here for the girl, so please stand still so you can die faster, and less painfully!"
"What are your intentions with her?"
"That is none of your business." Spilla decided to throw three knives at once, however as ABBA moved, something caused one of their heels to get completely destroyed, causing ABBA to fall to the ground, dropping their revolver and at the mercy of Spilla. "Haha! Got you. You should've capitulated when you had the chance! Arriverdeci!"
Spilla raised a throwing knife to the air, aiming for ABBA's forehead, and got read to throw, only for Fugo to walk around the corner-
BANG, BANG, BANG!
The black-haired assassin hissed in pain as a bullet caused her to lose grip on her throwing knife, landing unceremoniously onto the concrete below, one missing her entirely and embedding itself on the brick wall, and the final one grazing her right shoulder. Spilla turned to look at who attempted to shoot at her, never losing her passive smile, but there is a tenseness to be noted in her brows.
"FUGO!" ABBA called out to the dirty blonde-haired boy, holding a Colt 1889.
"Take Trish and get out of here. I'll deal with the knife lady."
"No, Fugo I-" ABBA attempted to reason with Fugo, however ABBA's words were caught in their throat as their heart jumped into their mouth, after accidentally getting a glimpse at It. The hardened gangster, who will not hesitate to kill for Passione is suddenly left to shiver in fear.
"Go…" Fugo said calmly, but in an authority seen only from either Bucciarati or Donna Madonna.
ABBA could do nothing but comply, quickly abandoning both of their high heels, ABBA got up, grabbing a shell shocked Trish and ran down the alley barefoot.
"Now, why did you shoot me from behind? That was quite cowardly of you~" Spilla asked Fugo as she pulled out another bundle of throwing knives.
"Like I give a shit about fighting fair when you're threatening one of my guardians, hag." Fugo spat with venom in each word.
"HAG?" Spilla gasped, still unwavering in her smile, but evidently irked by Fugo's comment as a vein bulged out of her forehead. "It is impolite to talk to a lady like that, you should be ashamed."
"Oh, I am sorry. I don't recall asking you. BITCH!" Fugo then fired off some more shots at Spilla.
That is, until his revolver jammed, and then exploded in his hands, falling to the ground in scraps of metal. What on earth caused that to happen? Fugo thought to himself, before finding himself swiftly and masterfully dodging oncoming projectiles in the shape of dark orange spikes.
"Hm… So, you can see my pin missiles?" Spilla noted out loud.
"And? So what if I can?"
"That means you're a stand user…" Spilla finally dropped her cheery tone.
A humanoid stand rose from behind the Tuscan Assassin. It was an orange and black in color, smooth arms that had a leathery texture on what seems like black padding covering his arms, legs, and torso, with an androgenous body structure. The most notable feature of her stand was its head. A face resembling a gimp mask with hollow eyes and a zipper over its mouth area, and dozens of yellow pins stuck in the mask, longer on top, and shorter on the sides.
"[133], is what I call it. Don't worry about what it does, as you will die before you can truly appreciate its intricacies."
Suddenly the pins on the top of [133]'s head shot out like bullets, homing in on Fugo, only him to somersault backwards, landing only his hands and twisting his body causing multiple pins to miss him and embed themselves into a dinky Ford Model N. And for those pin missiles that missed both Fugo and the car, they redirected their trajectory to go back towards him.
Fugo craned his neck upwards and watched as three pin missiles curved their direction, he arched his back far enough to land on his feet, stomping on a lid of a trash can near the alley's opening and chucked it towards the middles like a frisbee, impacting and stopping them in their tracks. Fugo watched as the metal trash can lid fell to the ground, noting how those pin missiles penetrated completely through it, getting hit by that even once would be devastating.
"I finally understand its complexities. And I am still alive." The green-eyed boy mocked his opponent with a smirk.
Spilla no longer had her smile, only a neutral expression, her eyes half lidded. She the began casually walking towards Fugo, who began stepping back with his hands raised in a fighting position, never taking his eyes off her. Interesting. He is only a child, but has the same flexibility, reaction time, and mannerisms of a skilled fighter, almost as if he was trained for these types of encounters. He couldn't be any older than 16…
Spilla smiled sweetly once again. "Since you can see my [133], I know you are a stand user, so why don't you show me your stand?"
Fugo kept his head forward, but his eyes hovered around, watching as a small audience of people of varying ages stopped to gaze upon him and Spilla as they stood in the middle of the street, obstructing traffic, much to the ire of many.
"Are you sure you'd be able to handle its presence?"
"Oh please. Do not look down on me!"
Fugo exhaled as he relaxed his fighting stance. "Fine…"
He extended his arm upward, three of his fingers pointing, and his index finger curling behind his thumb, bringing his arm down slowly as his other hand rises, mirroring each other as the bottom of their hands meet. He then clenched his hands into fists while crossing his arms.
"[Spin-]" He uncrosses his arms to extend them to his sides, hands still balled into fists. "[- Doctor]!"
A sudden tsunami of pressure released from behind Fugo, a wave of killing intent so potent and thick that it quickly overwhelmed Spilla's, causing the assassin to flinch. The killing intent caused people close to Fugo to suddenly fear for their lives and run away screaming, while an unfortunate woman who was closest to the green-eyed boy passed out from the tremendous force.
Spilla backed up a bit as she saw a humanoid figure with a purple and brown medieval plague doctor's mask and garbed by a tattered purple coat that seemed to flow despite there not even being a zephyr of breeze. Under the coat was a dark purple garment most commonly seen in plague doctors with a brown belt around its waist, six lavender-colored balls with grooves attached to it.
"Wha…" Spilla was at a loss for words at the sight of the ferocious macabre stand.
"This is [Spin Doctor], born from an unholy combination of the power of Spin and my soul. Tell me, what makes your soul?"
Spilla couldn't help but feel the ends of her lips tug downwards from her hollow smile, as sweat began to form and trickle down her brow. Caligula-baby…. What the fuck did you get me into?
Spilla steels herself as she got back into her fighting positions, knives, pin missiles, all prepared to commence their onslaught. All is tense, all is silent.
"[133]" Spilla screamed as all of the pins in [133]'s head launched, a triple pronged pincer maneuver from both sides and from above.
Stepping backwards to evade the longest pin missiles that were boring down on him from above, he watches as they impact the ground with tremendous force, breaking the concrete road and sending shards of asphalt flew into the air, with a deafening boom that even the non-stand user peanut gallery can hear, sending them running in freight.
Fugo then used [Spin Doctor] to launch himself upwards to dodge the pin missiles on his flanks, landing behind another car. Peering over the front side, he watches as the cluster of pin missiles pass through each other, only to redirect towards him at blinding speeds. Rolling out of the way as the pin missiles decimate the car, much to the owner's horror. As Fugo stood up, a knife came dangerously close to his eye, only for him to bend backwards, in order to dodge it, hitting the wall behind him, but not before slicing his eyebrow. That was too close.
Looking back at Spilla, Fugo noticed that [133]'s head was now completely smooth, no pins growing. He tilted his head, ignoring how some blood was beginning to flow into his eye, before smirking at the Tuscan assassin with a devilish smirk.
Damn it, not only did he survive to know what [133]'s ability is, but I also have to recharge before I send the next barrage of pin missiles. She pulled out multiple throwing knives, clenching her teeth as she finally lost her smile, replacing it with a deep scowl. I guess it is time to get up close and personal.
She threw a barrage of throwing knives, only for [Spin Doctor] to manifest and quickly punch them from midair, making a horrific sound as he punched.
ARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARUARU!
It sounded less than human, almost like a savage, primitive beast.
Ring, ring, ring
The officer picks up the receiver of his telephone.
"Hello?"
"Hello, yes, officer?" A panicked voice of a man shouts from the other end of the line. "There seems to be a fight occurring down in the Shopping District. A woman is throwing knives at a boy!"
The officer gasps. "Can you describe the two?"
"Certainly. The woman looks about middle aged, wearing a white dress, black hair and red eyes."
"And the boy?"
"The boy has brownish, blonde shoulder length hair, green eyes and a green trench coat with large holes on the sleeves."
The officer said nothing for a moment as his eyes damn near bulge out of their sockets.
"We will see what we can do." Were the only things the officer said, before slamming down the receiver and sighing, wiping his brow.
"Sergeant?" A fresh-faced recruit peaked over the wall off his square office. "That call sounded frantic. What are we going to do?"
The Sergeant said nothing, only eyeing the recruit before turning over to another officer. "Oi, Sanderson. What do we say when we get a call about Pannacotta Fugo getting into a fight."
"Not our problem…" The other officer, Sanderson, spoke without second thought.
"Yup, there is nothing we can do right now, just go back to your desk, Gregory…"
Finally, [133] got close enough to start trading blows with [Spin Doctor], sending shockwaves to damage the property around them. Both stand users staring at each other. Blood red eyes meet pale green ones. The Tuscan Assassin vs Bucciarati's deadliest problem child.
- To be Continued -
End of Episode 10
Thank you very much for being patient as I navigate my way through college, burn out, and overhauling how I write. I'm thankful that you, the audience are still following me and interested in what I write even after all this time. Now, back to the stands.
Stands and Music References seen in this chapter (the following are creations of vanillaprinces):
[Spin Doctor]: Named after the 1990's New York alternative rock band, the Spin Doctors.
(The following are my ideas, and not previously mentioned by vanillaprinces)
[133]: Named and designed after Slipknot's member and sampler, Criag Jones, aka "133" or Pinhead.