Bonds of Blood- "Assault on Precinct 13"
Officer Caudell yawned deeply and stretched as the clock on the reception desk stubbornly refused to skip forward another 3ish hours to the end of his shift. Sighing and his shoulder popped and provided a little relief from the ache starting to set into his back, he struggled to stop his eyes from shutting with the aid of the caffeine from the, honestly pretty terrible, canned coffee. All the guys in the precinct had been pestering the captain for months to get a new coffee machine after the last one broke, but no, apparently these cans were more "cost-efficient". His train of thought was interrupted as another huge yawn wracked his face. Rubbing his eyes, he quickly looked over his shoulders at the two doors leading further into the precinct. Seeing he was alone, he quickly booted up a game of Solitaire on his computer. 13 was in the middle of an industrial district, and almost all their officers were out on some big city wide bust on an underground fighting ring or something. He wasn't assigned to it, so he didn't care. No one would be coming into the building at this hour who wasn't a cop, and any calls would be routed straight to whichever car or cars was closest. He joined the force to catch some bad guys, have a high speed chase followed by a shootout and get the attention of tons of girls. But here he was, a glorified receptionist, stuck minding a near deserted building while his friends and colleagues were off getting citations. He wasn't alone here at least, but Detective Starker always made him… uncomfortable. He was that weird, passive-aggressive type of friendly, that you can tell would stab you in the back as soon as you turned around. Besides, the new kid Lawson told him that Starker's been holed up in his office since Haywood dropped his kids off in the cells next door to that drunk card shark and left an hour ago. Barring the Detective, the only other officer in the precinct was the new kid, Lawson. An alright kid, but a little nervous and jumpy, the type to chat with in the precinct, not go out on patrol with. Guy's convinced there's some hardened mob hitman hiding in every shadowy alleyway and a sniper across every street. Yet again, a yawn bubbled up from his chest before being interrupted by a shiver as a cool breeze suddenly blew over him, causing a few of the papers on the desk to flip up.
"Whoo, that's brisk," he muttered, looking up from his screen. The only reason he'd be feeling a breeze was if… huh. The front door was cracked open without him hearing it. Weird. Well, if it had opened wide enough for someone to get in, he'd have had a ping on the desk computer. As it was, the door being ajar was doing little but let in the cold evening air and release the only slightly warmer interior atmosphere. Grumbling to himself, Caudell stood and made his way around the desk, walking up to the door. Pushing on it to close it, he was surprised to feel a sudden bump through his arm. Pulling the door further open, he widened his eyes in shock as, there in the gap between the two double doors, lay half a brick.
'There's no way that dropped there by accident. Someone must've thrown it at the door, that's what opened it,' he thought to himself, unclipping the thumb break of his holster and keeping a hand on his gun as he leaned out and scanned the road. A couple of cars parked, one with tinted windows, no kids, no drunks… it wasn't the first time someone had thrown a brick at the precinct, but something about this gave him the creeps. After a few seconds of careful scanning, he reached down to pick up the half-brick… and blinked as he found it absent. He rapidly looked out on the path, and back further into the floor, but there was no sign of the broken piece of construction anywhere.
"I uh… I must've just kicked it off under one of the cars by accident," he said, not even realising he was speaking aloud. Closing the door firmly, he made his way back to his seat, a quick shudder passing through him ("It's just a bit chilly, that's all"). Just as he had settled back in his seat, a knock rang out through the room, making him jump. He froze in his seat a second, certain he'd just imagined it, but a couple seconds later, it came again.
Knock knock knock
Swallowing, he licked his suddenly dry lips before calling out.
"I- ahem It's open!"
A seconds pause, and the door smoothly slid open, revealing a tall man in an elegant white suit with black pinstripes. His face was framed by brown curly hair on his head and beard that formed a near perfect circle around his head. Perched atop his hair was a fedora hat the same colour and style as the rest of his suit, and his face had a bright smile with teeth so white Caudell couldn't look at them directly.
"Hello there Officer~" the man said, his voice smooth and deep. "I received a call saying a good friend of mine was here, I'd love to pick them up if you'll allow. I'll cover any bail right away."
"Uh… oh, yes, of course, you mean the guy in the drunk tank? Sure, you know his name?"
As Caudell turned to his computer screen and switched over to a release form, he could swear out of the corner of his eye that the man's expression switched in a split second to one of anger or disgust, but he was all smiles the instant the officer gave him his full attention once again.
"Name, yes…" the man said, pursing his lips for a moment. "Joestar, I believe. That is his last name at least."
"Joe… star…" Caudell typed it in, raising an eyebrow when an error came back. "We don't seem to have a Joestar sir. Are you sure your friend came here?"
"Are you certain? This is Precinct 13, is it not? Clearly my source must have been mistaken," the man turned and began to walk out, before half turning back. "Are you certain you do not have some twins locked up back there?"
"Twins? What do you want with them-"
In an instant the man was suddenly directly in front of the desk, immediately face to face with the officer.
"So you do have twins~" he thrilled. "Ffffascinating~. You're certain they aren't Joestars?"
"Sir, please back off!" Caudell barely managed to avoid falling backwards into a tangle with his chair as he recoiled back away from the strange man. "I don't know who you are, but I know those kids. They may be mixed up in something, but as long as they're here, you don't have any business with them!"
As Caudell put his hand once more on his gun, the mysterious man simply lifted his hands and gave a soft chuckle.
"Now now officer, there's no need to be aggressive. I come in peace. I'll happily explain my purpose, but if I may remove my pen from my pocket?"
"What? Why?" Caudell questioned, the bad feeling that had been building these past minutes exploding into anxious worms deep in his stomach. As the man reached into his coat, he quickly drew his pistol and aimed it squarely at his chest. "Hey hey, whoa! Slowly now, two fingers only!"
The mysterious man sighed, before making an exaggerated show of very carefully and slowly removing an ornate fountain pen from his inside pocket. Caudell looked on in a mixture of confusion and nervousness as he slowly unscrewed the top, placing it down on the desk in front of him. He held the pen as one would, but instead of going for any sort of paper, he raised it up above his right shoulder.
"Now, watch closely," he said, a giggle in his voice, before letting go of the pen and letting it… sit there. Floating in the air above his shoulder.
'Wh- what the hell?' Caudell thought to himself, this blatant disregard for physics only adding to the disturbing aura that surrounded this unwelcome visitor. "N-neat magic trick. Now, put the pen away and le-"
He didn't have time to comprehend what happened next. One second, he took his aim off of the centre of the man's chest in order to gesture at the door behind him to emphasise his order. The next, the pen had disappeared from above his shoulder, and a burning pain shot down the finger he had on the trigger, forcing him to drop his gun. He gave a mixed groan-shout as his body curled instinctively around his injured hand, he grasped at his finger with his left hand. He felt hot liquid spurting over his hand, grabbing onto his fingers to find the cut… before his shocked brain suddenly snapped back into comprehension. Subconsciously… one… his brain… two… made the connection… three… of what had just happened… four..? His eyes, screwed shut in pain, slowly opened to reveal, in a small but expanding puddle between his feet, his right index finger from the first knuckle down.
"Hhaaa… h-hoowwwwhh," Caudell tried to put his confused thoughts into words, but realisation of what had happened meant the pain suddenly came shooting up his arm. The sudden pain forced him to take a knee, before his gaze shot up to face his assailant as a series of clinks and taps rang out.
The suited man had removed a small plastic container, and was emptying out the contents onto the desk that he was now leisurely leaning against as if it was a bar top. Caudell's eyes widened as a collection of nails, screws and fountain pens of varying sizes came pouring out.
"My name is Whitley Stripes," the man said in a conversational tone, as if he was just an average joe chatting to a colleague at a water cooler. "I work for a very powerful organisation, which shall for now remain unnamed, and am here acting on their behalf. I have two…" a pause, "pardon me, three tasks to perform."
Caudell's eyes darted down to his gun where it had fallen just at his feet. He'd never been that good of a shot, and he'd have to use his left, but from this distance…
"The first is to confirm information received about a pair of twins who are supposedly currently in the cells here. Second, if the information is confirmed, to… 'test' these twins, and if the information is flawed, well, I am to eliminate the person who wasted our time."
Caudell stopped edging his left hand slowly down his leg as 3, no 5, 7 or 8 nails and screws slowly rose up from the desk and floated in the air a few inches above it, each firmly pointed at him.
"I wouldn't, friend," the man, Stripes, muttered, almost to himself more than Caudell. "You'll get a chance in a second. Finally, and I forgot this one cause I was planning on doing it anyway…"
Whitely hopped up to sit sideways on the desk. "Finally, I'm going to wipe out every other person in this place."
Caudell could see the shine that entered this Stripes eyes, the barely restrained joy causing a slight quiver in his voice. This man was a total and complete psychopath, with some sort of telekinetic magic power or something, and there was absolutely no chance he was gonna get out of this alive.
"So, let's make this a little more fun, shall we," the now childlike psycho. "I love me some Western movies. Dashing outlaw versus the inept, corrupt, bastard lawmen. So, you're gonna reach for your gun and try to shoot me. And I'm going to kill you. And just to give you a chance, I won't fire till you touch your gun. How's that sound?"
'I'm about to die.' This simple fact washed over Caudell like a wave of cold water, but with it came an odd sort of calm. It was like he could see his life stretching behind him, every step he'd taken leading to this moment. However this guy was firing sharp objects with his mind, there was no way Caudell was gonna get a decent shot off before he was a pincushion. But… but just maybe he could get one after. He could save everyone's lives, maybe they'd even give him a posthumous medal, the mayor wou-
"DRAW," Whitley shouted suddenly. Caudell, taken totally off guard, scrambled for his gun and succeeded in nothing more than causing it to skid off across the floor.
"Well then," Whitley said, blinking. "Surprising tactic, if… underwhelming."
And those were the last words Officer Caudell ever heard.
A/N: Boo! Another update. I'm thinking 2, possibly 3 more chapters left. For now, I'd love to see some theories as to the name and nature of our first Stand. I thought it'd be interesting examining a Stand from the POV of folks who don't have one and, therefore, have no clue what the hell's happening. Submissions are still wide open, any questions at all feel free to drop me a message.
