Avenging
Side Story 5: Bizarre Adventures
As always C+C appreciated. You can contact me at tsommer
All my stuff is stored at and ao3 now, with the naughtier stuff at the latter
I do not own the rights to either the marvel or anime and manga within.
So, there was a series of Marvel books called 'Bizarre Adventures.' Well, there's a manga series with a similar title. I guess you can say it kind of had to happen.
Xxxxxxx
The monitor room of the Watcher was lengthy and had more screens than any single being could observe at once… assuming they weren't a Watcher. Since watching things was their thing, it worked out all right for them.
The handful of screens Johnny Storm had been watching were sufficient to hold his interest until even he had seen enough. Apparently there were limits to how much intergalactic, interdimensional eroticism even he could handle. That meant it was time to go home.
He said to his companion, "I'd better get going before Reed and the others end up over their heads in some mess, and I have to bail them out again." He pushed the button on the 'Comfy Chair' ™, which folded back into the small square it started out as. He then closed the lid on his far more conventional cooler and pulled out the handle so he could drag it back to the Adventurer's shuttle and return to Earth.
As he turned to head out, one of the screens abruptly changed. Rather than the risqué image involving nubile young women, whip cream, and a merry-go-round with unique 'riding horses', it changed to a sextet of gaudily-dressed figures on a remote countryside looking off in the distance. Their demeanor was that of grim resolve.
One was dressed in a full blue body suit that covered him from head to toe. The red and white bars of the British flag adorned the front. He was clearly very muscular and fit. Another was dressed in full plate armor with a white cross on the front, like a knight from some European nation during medieval times. A helmet hid his face and a sword was in a scabbard at the belt around his waist. Next to him was a young man in a domino mask, a smaller sword at his waist. His raiment was similar to that of a squire of the same time period.
The next two stood close enough together one could interpret they were a pair. A young woman dressed in nun's garb, complete with habit, was armed with a sub-machine gun in hand. A young man of indeterminate nationality, dressed in a plain white shirt and black pants, wearing a red overcoat, stood next to her. His hair was black and pointed ears stuck out from under it.
The final one was the most bizarre in appearance. It was a figure dressed in the red garb of a musketeer straight out of a Dumas novel. A rapier was at her side, but what was most jarring was the face, or more appropriately, flaming skull that served as one. For some reason the hat didn't ignite despite her being shrouded in fire.
An automated voice in the Watcher's monotone emanated from somewhere above. "The number of costumed heroes was considerably fewer in the past, even during times of crisis. During the era in human history referred to as World War I, there was a predominate team of heroes noted above all others: The Sensational Six. They were composed of Union Jack, Sir Steel and the Silver Squire, the Nun with a Gun and Chrno, and the current host of the Spirit of Vengeance known as the Crimson Cavalier. In life this spirit was known as Lia de Beaumont.
"Throughout the war they engaged in a number of eclectic missions for their countries in the hopes of ending hostilities. Their most persistent foe was the vampire Baron Blood, who was a foster brother to Johnathon Joestar, the hero known as Union Jack. Dio Brando had been turned into a vampire by Count Dracula himself, though whether his alliance with the Germans was Dracula's will or his own is unknown. None of their battles reached a decisive conclusion.
"In the waning days of the conflict, it was learned by the Sensational Six that the near immortal mutant, Apocalypse, had engineered the war following his creed of survival of the fittest. They learned his base of operations was behind enemy lines in the form of Castle Dracula itself, Apocalypse having wrested it from the Lord of Vampires by killing him. While Dracula has been laid to rest before, he has always returned, though he has not to date on this occasion. Currently Baron Blood and Demitri Maximoff are in a war for who shall become the next Lord of the Vampires. Refer to the entry on vampires in the current era for more details.
"The Sensational Six went to confront Apocalypse at his base. In the ensuing conflict Castle Dracula and most of the mountain it was on was blown up. None of the participants have been seen since and are presumed dead. End entry."
Johnny was trying to process everything he had heard when the Watcher spoke directly to him. "You are still present, Johnathan Storm?"
Johnny was under the distinct impression he was just told, 'Get out,' which was weird since the Watcher had encouraged him to stay earlier, and nothing happened on his part that should have changed matters. But he wasn't about to get on the bad side of a cosmic entity with the greatest access to porn in the universe, so he said, "I was just leaving," and made a beeline to the hologram which hid the door to the outside world. Meaning the surface of the moon.
Once outside he breathed a sigh of relief and continued pondering what had just occurred. The Watcher had known Johnny was still there when he 'changed the channel' and used his own voiceover to disseminate information. He could have teleported him out of there in the blink of an eye if he chose, like he had done to both his team and the Fantastic Four the last time they had entered his domicile. And just like then he allowed information to be relayed to them before getting kicked out. Reading between the lines, it was easy to see the Watcher had wanted Johnny to know what was on the screen, like he had about the Eternals. It was a question of what specific part of the information was regarded as important that was the issue.
It was time to let his three teammates in on what had just happened, without admitting to the porn watching. Sue would never let him hear the end of it if she found out. She was such an older sister sometimes.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
The lid to the stone sarcophagus was at least seven hundred pounds. It was lifted off as easily as one would remove the top to a Tupperware container. Perhaps easier.
The occupant rose to his feet and left the sarcophagus. The room was lit by two candles, more than enough light for him. A luxurious bed and several clothing cabinets were in the room, as well as rich trapping which indicated tremendous wealth. There were no windows in the room. Small surprise since it was underground, part of the vast complex the occupant now controlled. Or so he assumed.
Dio Brando, better known as Baron Blood, looked to the finely dressed man waiting patiently as a servant should. Not vampire, but not human either. Useful, though. Extremely useful. That was how everyone was categorized since humanity had been put on this planet for one reason: to be useful to him. Those that weren't had no purpose, and thus no more value to him than ants were to humans. Perhaps even less.
"Report," Baron Blood commanded.
"The transfer was successful. All of Dracula's holdings, equipment, and personnel in Egypt are at your disposal." The being's voice was concise and to the point.
"What of the overall picture?"
"You currently control slightly more than sixty percent of the Vampire Kingdom. The Darkholders are also now fully aligned with you, thanks to you dealing with the holdouts."
Oh yes. A great deal of bloodletting there. Useless things he had dealt with. But there was something missing in the report. Dio was too aware of subtleties to miss the undercurrent to them. "Whatever bad news you have, tell me."
The tone never wavered. "Since Maximoff's losing the war, he has become desperate. He's enlisted the aid of a variety of supernatural entities. They are collectively being referred to as 'The Darkstalkers', and have already made their presence known."
Baron Blood would have sighed, but that was for lesser beings. "We shall have to recruit our own forces to counter theirs. Non-vampiric, of course."
"It will be done."
Now that that matter was dealt with, it was time to move to a more personal matter that had little to do in the big scheme of things but was important to him. "Have our vampiric assassins killed Joseph Joestar yet?"
"None of our teams have reported back, so it's safe to assume he eliminated them as well. Those anti-vampire martial arts taught to him by the K'un-Lun renegade have proven a nuisance."
A touch of vexation reached Dio's voice. "Send twice as many teams this time. And double the number on each team. If we send enough after him, he will fall no matter his skill in any art. Have we located any of his progeny?" Dio wanted his foster brother's entire bloodline wiped out. Everything Joestar would be scourged from the Earth before he was done.
"While we know he sired some children out of wedlock, finding out who they are is difficult since there are no known official ties. We will endeavor to continue searching."
More irritations. "Once Maximoff has been dealt with, things will become easier. I was born to rule. Even being resurrected as a vampire, only to have Dracula die shortly thereafter, validates by destiny. I would have dispatched him myself by now had someone not done it for me. Maximoff isn't half the vampire Dracula was. I will rule over all. Now fetch me some women. I need to feed."
"Already gathered, my Lord." The servant snapped his fingers, and a number of beautiful women entered the room, their gazes off in the distance, already mesmerized by the vampires who had collected them.
Yes, feeding always put him in a good mood. Then how to go about recruiting could begin.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was a dark and rainy night on the streets of Lyon, France. Two figures walked down this lonely street. J. Guile, more infamously known as, 'The Slasher' had found his next prey.
He was hideously deformed by any standard. Among the most notable features was having two right hands. But it was his mind that was the most deformed. There was a never a time when he hadn't envisioned killing things, preferably women. It was the only thing he enjoyed. It wasn't something he had been taught: it was instinct. And he was very good at what he did. He had a knack for finding isolated prey and cutting them to pieces with his knife. A dozen so far. It was more a question of opportunity than planning. That was why the authorities could not find a pattern: there was none. And he was patient. He'd wait until he found an ideal target, then dispatch her with his knife. No timetable for the murders made them more difficult to solve.
This one had no umbrella, but rather a wide-brimmed hat with a large plume sticking out of the side. Perhaps it was an older style brought back to the present. Fashion wasn't his strong point. Her crimson overcoat and wide brimmed hat warded off the rain. Neither would do anything in regard to halting his blade, though.
Few were out this evening due to the hour and weather conditions. No one was around: he simply knew. Perhaps he was a mutant and that was his ability. If he was, it was no consequence to him. All he cared about was slitting the pretty somewhere vital so he could see the glow in her eyes fade as the blood drained out of her, stained her clothing. He lived for the details. It was this simple thing in life he enjoyed.
He followed her, his longer stride closing the distance quietly. They had the street to themselves.
He had her to himself.
Finally he announced his presence. There was nothing to fear since her escape was impossible. No woman could outrun him, and she wore spiked red boots. Nothing human could run quickly in footgear like that. He had caught a glance of her face once, but he wanted her looking him in the eye when the blade struck. "Turn, my pretty."
And she did. She was ravishing by any standard. And those eyes, a shade of pale blue unlike any he had ever seen. This was going to be a joy.
To date, every woman had been stunned in horror at the appearance of his hideous face. They froze, which made the killing stroke so much easier. And he was faster than his large size would imply. But fear was absent with this one. Those eyes remained cold.
Rather, she said, "The spirits of the young women you butchered cry out for vengeance. I have been summoned." And with that her face lit up on fire. Her flesh literally melted away, leaving a burning skull all that remained. Likewise the outfit transformed into that of a crimson clad musketeer.
It was J. Guile's turn to stare in shock. It had the same result as all the woman he had surprised and murdered, as the flaming swordswoman drew a rapier made of flame from her scabbard and closed the distance between them in a blur. The blade sank halfway into J. Guile's chest, piercing the heart perfectly.
And then the soulfire was unleashed. Even as the body ceased to function the man's soul was seared in a manner indescribable by human terms. He knew a pain that could not be delivered in earthly fashion. It was sent to the core of his being as what remained of the ravaged thing was sent into the afterlife.
The blade was withdrawn, and the Crimson Cavalier stared down at her handiwork. The serial killer was dead; retribution delivered as the souls of the dead went silent at the same time.
Mission accomplished, the flames went out and the sword disappeared. The outfit transformed back into the original style it had. However the being inside the clothing was quite different. Where once before it had been an extremely attractive woman whom it hugged in perfect form, now it was a very muscular man in the same outfit. He removed the hat to reveal a highly unusual hairstyle, all of it was straight up, about eight inches, and flat on the top. Only the color was the same blond as the woman's had been.
Jean Pierre Polnareff felt a little weak, as he always did when transforming into the spiritual entity possessing him. He looked down at the killer through his own eyes rather than those of the other. It was more satisfying in some way. It was over at last. Something was laid to rest in his breast. He was not happy overall, but the gnawing away at his soul knowing his sister's murderer was still out there was gone. Yes, he had made the right choice and the end result was satisfactory.
Revenge was always worthwhile, as long as the price wasn't too high.
In his case, his decisions had only affected him, well that and the murderer. He had longed to avenge his sister's death with all his being, and his desires had been answered by a kindred spirit: Lia de Beaumont. She too had been butchered in France and had been unable to rest in peace. She had made a deal with other powers that enabled her to seek revenge. Though her price had been steep as well: she was to serve as a spirit of vengeance for eternity. She would never have peace no matter what. But she had entered her covenant willingly, as had Polnareff. Both had accepted their fates as they had chosen them. Perhaps that was why they were so in Sympatico with one another.
For all her power, Lia needed a willing host for her to wield them on the mortal plane. And it couldn't be just anyone. It had to be someone as like-minded in craving vengeance as she had been, for a price had to be paid for them as well. Between the souls of the dead, who cried out for her to avenge them, and Polnareff's longing, the conditions had been right. She made her offer to him. She would avenge his sister's death first, but after that, she would continue seeking vengeance on those she deemed worthy targets.
He had agreed without hesitation.
It had been worth it.
In order to lure the slasher out, he had allowed Lia to transform him into a replica of herself to function as bait. That should be the only time that particular transformation was necessary. Though anyone seeing him now would think him a cross dresser with no sense of proportions. He didn't look good in the dress at all. He was far too large for it.
He took off the boots that were too small and carried them as he headed toward home. He would get a good night's rest, then continue fulfilling his part of the bargain and keep an eye out for proper targets.
The Crimson Cavalier walked the earth once again.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Muhammad Avdol walked down the shadowed streets of New Delhi alone. His senses were such he knew he was being followed probably within a second of actually being followed. That was why he was intentionally taking a path that would be devoid of people. If any were there, well, he'd try to ensure their safety, but when in life and death situations that wasn't always possible.
He listened to the faint movement among the rooftops. Two of them, and considering how quickly, far, and silently they moved, he knew what they were as well. This was what he got from getting involved. Still he had owed Taj Nital a favor, so when Taj communicated (his vocal cords had been severed, so it was never talked), that he needed someone of Avdol's singular talents, he had helped his friend. Besides, the cause was just and no one could stand vampires. He had sort of hoped that his presence might not have been noticed since working with Harker's crew was supposed to be a one-time deal, but the best laid of plans.
They landed silently behind him. As he thought, confrontation could not be avoided. He turned to see what would have appeared to most people a pair of beggars. However, these were anything but. Oh, they no doubt were in life, but now they had the look of predators. Alpha predators. And Avdol was clearly their prey.
Caution, not fear, ruled Avdol. He wagered these two were newly turned. They had a certain air of youthful arrogance, like children given a new toy to use. A supremely deadly one in this case. They displayed no caution, so confident they were in their perceived immortality.
How very humanlike.
One of them spoke. "Guess who we're from."
"Dio's gang." Avdol really wasn't one for quips. He was upbeat, not edgy, mercifully. There were too many like that in the world. Not everything was depression and anger at everything not being the way you wanted it. He was content to allow the world to be as it was, so long as it didn't demand he turn into what it wanted him to be. He had too much pride to bend the knee to anyone. Even if it led to situations like this.
The other snarled with ferocity. "Lord Dio is no common street thug. He is the master of us all, and we are his most loyal servants."
Avdol said nothing, though he listened to make certain they weren't a stalking horse to make him lower his guard while another attacker positioned himself behind. But Avdol felt no one.
Seeing no response on Avdol's part, the first one spoke again. "You aligned yourself with Harker against Lord Dio. He has a special hate for that one. He sent us to take care of your transgressions. You know what happens next?"
"I certainly do." Even as the last word left Avdol's mouth the pair sprang. To most the inhuman leaps would have left them gaping in astonishment until the moment the fangs pierced their jugular. But Avdol had seen many things in his relatively short life, including vampires. He had been prepared to react.
An aura of fire sprang up around him, surrounding his body. The flames molded themselves in such a manner that they appeared as though it was a living body, very muscular. The only exception was the head atop the thick neck. It looked like that of a bird.
He drew back his arms and brought them forward. Continuous gouts of flame vomited forth, engulfing the entire bodies of both vampires. The pair unleashed inhuman shrieks of agony as their flesh, hair, and even bone immolated totally. Only ash hit the ground centimeters before Avdol feet.
He turned away from his handiwork, fiery aura disappearing. Apparently Dio hadn't informed his minions of his abilities, and why Avdol was also known as 'Firebird.' But now he had yet another person after him. It was times like this he felt like he needed to at least align himself with a team. Harker's squad was a little too eager to look for trouble of the fatalistic kind for his taste. Perhaps someone else. To be honest with himself, he did tend to get into trouble for other's sakes. He supposed that was the mentality most of what people called 'superheroes' had. Perhaps he should just become one. But no gaudy outfit if he could help it. A mask was sort of pointless too since his abilities weren't exactly secret and he had no family that could be threatened.
It was food for thought.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
End chapter.
And thus this little aside ends. I thought this fit well with the Jojo's Bizarre Adventure crew. Vampires and England and whatnot. And we got to learn about some both famous Marvel characters like Apocalypse and Dracula, and more obscure ones like the Freedom's Five… except they were a Sensational Six here. And very astute people will now realize that I did reference Rosette Christopher as the original 'Nun With a Gun'. And that Eda from Black Lagoon is the second. Because everyone knows using nuns with guns is fun.
Go ahead. Say it five times fast.
And thus a little more world building is complete in this fusion which I felt fit together quite nicely. And it used a more currently popular anime series which more people are likely to recognize. Although the manga in question is much older than this fic. Ironically.
