Author's Note:

Merry Christmas everyone! Just thought I'd post one last time this year!

Also, ha ha, I'm so bad at guessing how long stories will he, but it looks like there's gonna be 4 chapters of Belladonna. But chapter 4 will be the last... before the epilogue.

Anyway, enjoy!

Belladonna: To the Top

Arby's hands danced about, expertly manipulating the controls, his considerable willpower flowing into his Stand in a torrent. [Ballads1] itself was a mere data-collection mechanism, the real business came from its secondary function – or was it a sub-Stand? – [Slow Dancing In The Dark], which manifested as a stylized VR headset and corresponding hand-controls. The level of precision provided by buttons and sticks on the controls far outstripped any interface he'd even heard of, each control surface directly syncing up with his own nervous system! When dominating the hoi-polloi, his influence was almost absolute, most of the rabble being too dim or unaware to even notice his presence until he forced them to act, the ensuing panic at the loss of control further eroding their willpower.

Red Nightmare, however, was no commoner.

Calling it frustrating was an understatement. It was like playing a video game with sloppy input, bugs, and lag all at once! It was all he could do to keep the speedy Sinner slow enough to absorb a few hits before being shaken off, or perhaps send a punch wide and break a combo, keeping the team's tanks in the game just one precious moment longer. His teammates were strong enough to cause damage, of course, but between Red's reflexes, defense, and natural durability, not even Dew could pour on the offense long enough to do any serious damage. Factor in the Sinner's irritating tendency to regenerate, and every second Red wasn't getting pummeled meant they were losing ground!

Setty grunted as she caught a hard left hook across the cheek, sending her tumbling to the ground. Red was upon her in an instant only to be picked up from behind and suplexed by Dew's [Rebel Yell]. Red grumbled in irritation through a mouthful of shattered concrete, grabbing the Stand by the wrists and swinging his legs down, pulling them both forward until the Sinner was on his feet. Dew growled and struggled, stuck with his arms wrapped around Red's torso. The Faller leapt upwards with significant force, sandwiching the pugnacious incubus between his back and a steel reinforced concrete support beam, blasting it apart in a shower of atomized cement and shattered rebar. Dew's breath was forced from his lungs in a wheezing grunt, his grasp loosening, prompting Red Nightmare to shake him off before sending him caroming down the hallway with a plasma-wreathed jab.

"Oh no! No no! Get up, Dew!" A high-pitched, chirruping voice to Arby's left cried, a pair of tiny hands grabbing his cufflink, tugging frantically. "Help him, Arby! Help him, help him!"

Part of Arby wanted to swat the irritant away, as he often did with such things, but something about the idea galled him. Ena wasn't helping, sure, indeed she was presently being less than useless, but he still couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with her. The little girl was almost famous in the 'Donna for her irrepressible cheeriness and optimism, somehow maintaining something approximating innocence despite her surroundings. Arby had initially chalked that up to her absolute barbarian of an older brother, who even the Staffers were leery of, scaring off any potential corrupting influences. But now, with her being taken on as part of the team – by Syx, no less – Arby was forced to consider that maybe there was more to this brat than a cute face and cheerful smile.

He turned his attention back to the battle, allowing Setty to catch an unimpeded uppercut to the gut, causing her to grunt and bounce off the ceiling. Arby allowed himself a little smile at that. Red launched himself after her, seeking to pummel her some more before she could steady her breathing enough to become intangible. Arby stepped in, throwing the Sinner off balance long enough for the harlot to roll out of the way and shoulder-check him through a wall. Red roared as the Deal wracked his body with pain, no doubt his Pact with the skinflint old sow had a clause regarding property damage. By the time he'd gathered himself enough to hurl himself at her, Syx had regained some of his vitality and sent him tumbling down the hallway with a gravity blast.

'This is bad,' thought Arby, frowning. 'Syx surely has better stamina than this. Whatever they were up to before this whole thing started must have depleted him. Setty and Dew need to get close to do any damage, and getting close to Red is a losing prospect. We need Syx's range! At present, all we're doing is distracting–' Arby paused, glancing over at a fretting Ena as Red bore down on her brother, slowly but surely crushing him into the floor. 'Ah. Surely she must be of some use, or Syx would not have brought her along.'

"Ena," he said, speaking slowly and – he hoped – gently. "Would you like to help your brother?"

Ena turned to him, eyes blazing hopefully, nodding. "Uh-huh! Yes! I wanna help!"

He smiled, glancing at his desktop screen, to the video feed of Belladonna's office, where Boss Lady was busily emptying valuables from the wall-mounted safe she hid behind that egregious portrait. Cases of cash, jewelry, valuable gee-gaws and such, all were being shoveled into a large sack with a $oul-symbol emblazoned on the side. Arby noted with wry amusement that Belladonna must have at least some semblance of sense in her fat head if she was preparing to bug out while her guard-dog was indisposed. Why, any of the newly empowered children could just so happen to swing by and…

"What can your Stand do, Ena?" Arby said, nodding at his desktop screen.

Ena looked at the screen and then back to Arby, her eyes lighting up in revelation before becoming hard and set; in that moment, Arby mused, he could actually see the resemblance between her and her older brother.

"I'm gonna need paper," she said, summoning her stand. "And something to draw with."

Arby nodded, plucking a multi-color pen from his pocket protector and handing it to her. "Paper's by the printers. Take as much as you can."

Kabby panted and wheezed as he galloped away from the pursuing mob, dodging hurled projectiles and Stand bullshit as he did, his instincts for survival honed by a long life in Pride. His hooves clattered on the linoleum as he skidded around a corner, diving and rolling just as a slashing vector gouged the floor where he'd been an instant earlier. An increasingly hopeless part of him wished dearly to just bug out to one of his safe spots and let this whole fiasco blow over. That part of him, that sensible part of him, lamented that at some point in time – when, he could not say – it had lost any and all say in matters concerning Kabby's safety. But every time Kabby considered cutting his losses and running, his thoughts would drift to the kids presently trying to kill him. Their blood was up, revolution in full swing, full of piss and vinegar. If that mob happened across Red in this state…

No, it was best if he just gave them the runabout, keeping them out of harm's way best he could.

"[Bombs Over Baghdad]!" Tobi cried.

Kabby looked back to see the clubfooted imp riding on the shoulders of an older kid, his arachnoid Stand hurling nuts and bolts with its eight spindly limbs. The shimmering bits of stainless steel streaked through the air, sprouting from them were tiny white fuses, hissing as they burned down. Kabby yelped and hopped and jumped, jinked and jibbed, as the lit pieces of metal clattered around him. The fuses burnt down and the air crackled with overlapping explosions, the small bits of metal exploding like they were worth their weight in octogen. Kabby grunted as he was punted about by shockwaves, his robust imp eardrums ringing like bells but largely undamaged. He opened his eyes to see Tobi hurl a whole can of soda at him, fuse sparking.

'Stupid brat!' Kabby though incredulously. 'That much bang indoors'll kill us all!'

"[Bridge Over Troubled Water]!" Kabby cried, summoning his red plumbata and hurling it at the incoming bomb, guiding the dart through the air with his will, impacting it and sending it elsewhere.

(Elsewhere, the Belial and Scratch Dealership)

"Are you sure we should be storing this here?" A horned, humanoid Sinner said, standing next to the flatbed Mack truck as it sat in the reserved maintenance bay, its fully loaded bed covered with a green canvas tarp. "Isn't this where those 'unofficial' rigs pop in from… wherever they come from?"

"Pssh!" A squat reptilian Sinner scoffed. "They ain't been sendin' shit for a week! 'Sides, my wife's hellhound boyfriend said he'd pay us fat stacks if we hide this here rig until next saturday."

"Isn't that when Earl Bifrons is passin' by on parade or somethin'?"

The reptilian shrugged. "Maybe? I don't really keep up with royal shit. So what?"

"Nothin', it's just that…" the horned Sinner pulled back the tarp, revealing dozens of 55 gallon drums. "I just don't see what ten tons of fuel-oil and fertilizer has to do with Earl Bifrons. Isn't he, like, all about science and shit?"

A can of soda appeared between them, falling to the floor with a dull 'clack'. The two leaned in and examined the dented can, not seeing the rapidly vanishing fuse.

"Where'd that come fr"

(Back at the 'Donna)

Kabby ran as he guided his mystical dart through the air around him, bobbing and weaving as it displaced the various thrown items to various places. The kids were still following him, hopefully that meant they were well out of Red's path. Or, at the very least, too focused on him to entertain the notion of gunning for Red or Boss Lady!

'Alls I gotta do is keep ahead of 'em!' Kabby thought, looking back at the crowd as they chased after him, blowing a raspberry and gibbering mockingly. 'Keep 'em from doing anything too–'

Kabby grunted as he ran head-long into what felt like a net, his limbs hopelessly bound and tangled. He looked around at himself, feeling the fibers binding him, needing to squint to see the barely visible strands of warped air. He reached up and squeezed a strand between his fingers, the sensation not unlike touching a stream of compressed air. He was tangled in a net made of air?

"[Scissor Sisters]!" A female voice called out. "Reel him in!"

Kabby yelped as the air-ropes coiled around him, pulling him off his feet and into an adjoining hallway. He struggled futilely against the invisible net, looking up to see a group of Home Ec kids looming over him, in their hands were bloody scissors and awls, one of the more robust hellhound girls had a steel Brother sewing machine lashed to an ax-haft as a makeshift warclub. At the head of the group was Leni, an apologetic frown on her face. A ghostly pink and white figure floated behind her, the fingers of its left hand appeared to be large, sharp fabric shears, its right hand composed of sewing needles through which the chords of the net were wound.

"Sorry, Mr. Kabby," said the sweet hearted, dimwitted girl, shrugging. "But we gotta."

'What a mess. You'll just have to put all this stuff back once that Beast tears those brats apart,' thought Bella as she shoveled various expensive items into the sack. 'Not even Diavolo would make minions capable of beating him, Bella! That's insane! Begging for trouble! You can't Deal with Hellborn like you can real people, you have to grind them down, bend them to your will, like stubborn animals! There's no way he'd give them the power to challenge him, that'd be like giving a chimp an assault rifle! No, not even Diavolo is that crazy! Why would he–?'

She paused, grimacing. What could possibly motivate that monster to compromise his dominance over those ringscrapers? The chance to compromise her dominance over him. Would he be willing to go that far just to get her off his back? Would he truly go that far just to kill her?

'Wouldn't you?' The thought came out of nowhere, somewhere deep in the back of her psyche, an old and unused part of her soul, rusty and creaking from disuse. 'If someone had you on lock like you have him, what would you do to see that person dead?'

Bella resumed prepping her bug-out back, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow. 'Better safe than sorry…'

"Boss Lady?" A high-pitched voice called out. "Stop runnin' around."

Bella stopped and turned around, seeing the unimposing form of a young succubus peering through her door. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the ragamuffin as Ena, the younger sister of Dew, the Shop's own golden boy. Like her brother, the girl was a physical exemplar of her prurient race, her features were perfect, the promise of irresistible beauty hiding under the neotenous flab of childhood. In previous years, Bella found herself tempted to shunt the little bint into the Carriage House the second she blossomed only to, time and again, be dissuaded by Diamanti, citing the potential backlash from her brutish-but-indispensable older brother. Could her earnings offset the disruption to her then-second best earning enterprise?

Ah, but all that was a moot point at this juncture.

"Ena," Bella said, adroitly opening one of her desk drawers and reaching in. "What troubles you, dear?"

"You." Ena stalked into her office, her adorable face puckering into what a child might consider a threatening grimace. "You trouble all of us. Us kids. Why do you have to be so mean?"

"Mean?" Bella crooned, brow furrowing in concern over an affected pout. "Why, whatever do you mean, dearie?"

"You make us work so hard all the time," said Ena, her full, dark lips pulled into a tight line. "You make us do bad things like stealin' and stuff. And when we don't, you make the bad guys beat us and take away food. Why? What'd we ever do to you? Why do you like hurting us so much?"

"Why?" Bella said, smirking. "Why? You ask me why? Well, my dear, I do it because I can. Because you can't stop me. Because you're weak. Because I think, maybe, I can make something out of you disgusting creatures. If I can, I will. If I can't, well, that'd be your fault, wouldn't it?"

"It's not our fault!" Ena cried, hands balling up into tiny fists. "We didn't do anything to you! We want to be good, but we're never good enough!"

"And you never will be," said Bella, smiling toothily, pulling her hands from the drawer, nine mirror-polished rings on her digits. "Because all you are, all you ever will be, is filthy ringscraper trash. I can make out of you whatever I want, but at the end of the day I'm still working with garbage. I'm only human, after all."

"You're a bad lady." Ena glared at her, eyes bright with furious tears, her hair dancing on gusts of energized air. "Bad ladies get what they deserve."

"Why, Ena…" Bella said, folding her hands behind her back. "You're not going to fight me, are you?"

"No… I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Ena roared, her frizzy platinum hair danced about on a surge of hot, ionized air, sheets of paper materializing around her. "[Paper Planes]!"

Bella's eyes narrowed as dozens of pieces of paper fluttered about in the air around the girl, folding in on themselves, contorting into origami sculptures. With a flash of light the crude figures surged with life and color, paper cranes became fearsome paper eagles, cats became tigers and lions, butterflies became hornets and puppy dogs gnashing black direwolves. The animated constructs focused on the Sinner, eyes glowing red and furious. Belladonna ducked to the side as an eagle streaked past, razor-sharp wings and claws whistling as they cut through the air, carving a long gash into the wall behind her. A tiger roared as it leapt, swiping with its claws. Bella cried out as the relatively tiny figure slashed through her sleeve, carving three small, deep cuts into her forearm.

"You little brat!"

A dozen hornets buzzed angrily as they swooped at her, long black stingers drawn. Bella yelped and ducked out of the way as the simulated insects stuck into her desk, pale yellow venom hissing and spitting as they dissolved thimble-sized pockmarks into the mahogany.

"My desk! Do you have any idea how much that cost?!" Belladonna cried, outraged. "Enough of this!"

She held out her hand as a dozen constructs converged on her, the silvery rings on her digits lighting up with blue glowing runes. A shrill whistling split the filled as five shimmering arcs flashed in the overhead lights, slicing the constructs to burning ribbons. Ena flinched as she saw something flicker in front of her.

"Ena, watch out!" Scrum cried, tackling her to the ground as a Seraphim Steel poignard whistled past, lodging itself deep in the wall behind her.

"Thanks, Scrum," said Ena, looking up at Belladonna as she held out her hands, almost all of her digits bearing an enchanted ring as nine angelic daggers hovered in the air around her. "Whuh?"

"Thank Mr. Nightmare, you little whore," sneered Bella, undulating her fingers, causing the blades to gyre and gimble about, spinning faster and faster as they orbited around her, obliterating the attacking paper animals. "Those scumbags he 'negotiates' with often have something worth hanging on to, and I have my pick of the bunch!"

"She's got angel weapons!" Scrum cried, tugging at Ena's sleeve. "Get outta here, Ena!"

Belladonna blinked, pointing at the fretting construct. "…Is that a talking teddy bear?"

"No, Scrum!" Ena growled, getting to her feet. "Everyone's puttin' themselves in danger fightin' Mr. Nightmare! Dew'sin danger! I gotta help, and if that means gettin' hurt, then I'll get hurt!"

"You'll get a lot more than 'hurt', brat," snarled Belladonna, raising her hand, rings glowing. "When all this is over and done with, I'm going to make a new ensemble from your filthy hides! And if you're lucky, you'll be dead before I do!"

Ena grit her teeth, her brow creasing in concentration as scores pages materialized around her, folding again and again, multiple sheets combining and folding into ever more complex forms. With a flash and a shimmer, between Bella and Ena stood a platoon of tiny riflemen, a dozen digitigrade mecha, and a half dozen tanks, all training their fully-functional gun barrels at the Sinner. A flight of attack jets streaked overhead as a squadron of attack helicopters hovered in the air around her.

Belladonna's face fell for a moment. "Oh dear."

"Open fire!"

Red jogged down the hallway, taking note of the landmarks as they passed him by, counting the meters between them, then the centimeters, then the millimeters, on and on until he reached the limits of his perception. 'A recursive spatial structure exactly twenty meters side to side. Is that the limit of [Rebel Yell]'s influence? Hm. It otherwise presents as a short-range power type, no more than two meters–No, that doesn't track. Stands operate in three dimensions, when I smashed through the roof, I should have broken into the room above. A ten meter radius of influence would translate into a sphere, not a loop…'

"Gettin' your cardio in, Red?" Dew called out as Red trotted past, seemingly content that the Sinner could not escape this trap. "I gotta say, you're pretty yolked. What's your routine?"

"Isometric exercise and free weights," said Red, counting down the space remaining to the tiniest fraction he could register.

He was close now…

"What, really?"

"No. Truth be told, I think it's more of a 'self-image' thing," he said as he approached the threshold. "We Sinners are weird."

Sure enough, he appeared at the far end of the hall. No seam in his perception, no sudden jerk or sensation of displacement, he simply was back where he started. Either the 'Donna's halls were so drearily identical and recursive in layout, or Dew was extraordinarily meticulous and observant. At that point in time, Red could believe either. He jogged up to where Dew was standing, leaning in the doorframe, and stopped. He eyed the pugnacious boy up for a moment, stopping when he noticed tension return to his shoulders, preparing to resume combat. Red smirked and looked up and over Dew's shoulder, into the room behind him, the window and visage of Hell outside. Red turned and walked over to the far side of the hall, fist streaking out, punching a hole in the wall.

"Gettin' frustrated, Red?" Dew remarked, wryly.

"Not at all," said Red, snapping his fingers.

Dew blinked in surprise as the sound seemed to be coming from behind him, turning around to see Red's hand poking out from the closed window, the glass cracked and crumbling like concrete. He turned back as Red pulled his arm from the hole, looking through the portal to see his own back.

"Trippy."

"Seems that your Stand can seamlessly link any given point in space to itself, but only places you yourself have recently been or can see," said the sea-demon, walking over to the hole he had smashed into the ceiling and, therefore, the floor, tossing in a piece of rubble. "You could not see, nor have been, to the floor directly below or above this one. Same with the room on the other side of that wall. That is where the seams lie."

"But…" Dew muttered, watching as the piece of rubbled fell through the hole in the floor and out of the one in the ceiling, falling faster and faster, before turning to the window with the hole in it, seeing Hell outside the glass but also himself standing in the doorway through the portal. "I can see outside through the window?"

"Bizarre, isn't it?"

Dew scoffed, shaking his head. "Whatever. This shit's weird."

"Indeed," said Red, reaching out a poking the speeding bit of concrete as it fell, causing it to bounce off the edge of the hole in the floor, sending it caroming out of the hole in the ceiling and clattering down the hallway at dozens of meters per second. Dew lost track of it once it bounced down the hallway, turning his head to see it clattering towards him from the other direction. "That's quite the trick, Dew."

"Thanks," said Dew as he picked up the bit of concrete, brow furrowing as he contemplated it. "So fuckin' bizarre…"

"How'd you figure out it could do that?"

The boy paused for a moment before scowling, tossing the rubble. "I don't fuckin' know! I just did it! I had to do it! So I did!"

Red smiled serenely, hands up placatingly. "Of course. It's just that, well, most Stand Users have abilities that relate to their personalities on some level."

"Yeah," scoffed the incubus, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall. "Mine smashes shit."

"And creates complex recursive spatial structures independent of the outside world, apparently."

"What?"

"What you said before, Dew," said Red, mirroring the boy's posture. "About being too much like your father. What did you mean?"

"Fuck off," grumbled Dew, fishing out another cigarette and lighting it. "I ain't playin' your mind games, Faller."

"Fair enough." Red shrugged, smirking. "Just seems to me that cycles play a big role in how you see the world. Wheels turning wheels, like an engine."

"Whatever."

"Could it be that you see too much of your father in yourself?" Red inquired, arching an eyebrow. "The outbursts, the aggression, you see that as one line connecting to another, that which is seen and experienced loops back in on itself, destined to repeat?"

Dew's lips fleered back from his fangs in a snarl, his Stand flaring to life. "Shut up!"

"I can't claim to have known your father, Dew, only that ghastly simulacrum," he said, shaking his head. "But I think I can safely say that you're nothing like him."

Dew paused, blinking in confusion. "Yeah? Howzat?"

"Because…" Red said, smiling knowingly. "Those who can see the cycle, who know it and themselves well enough to see where the gears mesh, can break it."

Dew was silent, puffing on his smoke. Red opened his mouth to press further when cold, green jolts of pain wracked his body, Pact energy hissing and sparking about his form. Belladonna was under attack! Notions of decapitating the boy surged to the fore, lunging at him as fast as he could and tearing his head from his shoulders or punching out his heart, something, anything, to free him from this prison and fulfill the Deal. He grit his teeth and growled as he wrestled these impulses, brought them to heel, and forced them to back down. Would killing the boy even free him? It stood to reason, as this was clearly a Stand ability–No! No, there was a possibility, however slim or unlikely, that this distortion was itself a construct and not a manifestation of the boy's will. Killing him could permanently strand him here!

'Stranger things have happened…'

This line of conjecture seemed to mollify the Deal somewhat, strengthened by Red's burgeoning understanding of the inner workings of this [White Wedding] ability. The Deal would allow him to experiment, to test his theory.

"Red!" Dew exclaimed, charmingly concerned despite clearly being ready to fight him. "What is it? What's happening?"

"It's Bella!" Red hissed through gritted teeth. "Someone is attacking Bella! I-I'm being forced to-to find a way out of here!" [Rebel Yell] snarled and raised its fists, ready to protect its master, only for Red to hold out his hand. "W-wait! If you don't attack, I can j-just barely keep myself from attacking you!"

"I ain't gonna let you outta here!" Dew growled. "Not until Setty and Syx grease that bitch like an axel!"

"I know. But still, I must escape, no matter the cost…" Red's eyes darted about, glancing up at the clock on the wall in the hallway, a spark of inspiration flashing in them. "Ah-ha. Hey, Dew?"

He tensed, readying himself for combat. "Yeah?"

"Sorry."

Red extended his hand to the boy, thumb cocked against his middle and forefinger, the digits straining with the force building within them, and snapped them. Heat and light flashed as the air disassociated within the cavitation bubble, imploding an instant. The ensuing shockwave pushed air forward in a conical ripple of air, impacting the incubus standing in the doorway. Windows shattered as Dew was sent hurtling backwards into the room, grunting as he impacted the far wall. Dew growled and shook his head, ears ringing, his Stand having born the brunt of the surprise attack. He looked up, hands raised to fend off the coming assault, only to see Red standing on the far side of the hall, his hand shoved into the hole he had made in the wall.

"What're you–?" Dew began to see when he felt something shift in his pocket, looking down just in time to see Red's huge, pale hand slide back into the hole in space. "Hey!"

"Sorry, Dew!" Red called from out in the hall, Dew's hellphone in his hand. "Gonna have to borrow this!"

"Fucker!" Dew bellowed as [Rebel Yell] launched him at the Sinner. "Don't look at my search history!"

Red sped off down the hall, narrowly avoiding Dew's tackle. He held out the phones and examined the screens, noting that they were still receiving information from the outside world, their times synched with the clock on the wall. 'This is no construct or pocket dimension, but conventional space looped on itself! Time flows at the same rate in here as out there, but what about between the two ends?' Red reared back as [Rebel Yell] delivered a blistering haymaker, sliding under its arm like a limbo pole, snapping back up as he continued to run down the hall. 'Woof! That was close! Now, if my theory is correct…'

"Get back here, Faller!"

"Be with you in a second!" Red called out, turning on the stopwatch features of both phones and synchronizing them. "Sooner than you think!"

As he ran past, he set both phones down on the floor where he estimated the threshold of the loop to be. Sure enough, one set down on the opposite end as he crossed it, counting the seconds. Red smirked as he continued to run, faster now. Dew moved to intercept, arms spread wide, his Stand's enormously muscled arms spanning nearly the breadth of the hall. Red leapt forward in a shallow arc, hands extended as though diving into a pool. Dew blinked in confusion, his warrior's instincts having already intuited Red's trajectory posed no threat to him, standing his ground as the Sinner smashed through the floor less than a foot in front of him, punching a hole clean through it.

"What–?" Dew grunted, cut off as Red erupted from the ceiling, his shallow trajectory carrying him clear over the boy's head. With a duck and a roll, he was back on his feet and sprinting down the hall. "Hey! The fuck're you up to?!"

"You're not wrong, Dew!" Red called back to him as he approached the phone on the floor, it read 00:00:31.23. "I've heard it said that time is a flat circle! That we're all doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over!"

"Cut the shit!" Dew roared as Red appeared at the far side of the loop. "Fight me!"

[Rebel Yell] loosed a rush of punches at the sprinting sea-demon, only for Red to jink off at the last second, shoulder-checking a hole in the wall, erupting from a row of lockers on the far side, continuing on his mad rush through the loop. Red streaked across the barrier, the phones both reading 00:00:35:45. 'Time is elastic, it flows differently through space based on a multitude of factors. In a warp such as [White Wedding] the effect can only be compounded! Still, the difference could well be a matter of microseconds or even less. Guess I'm going to have to get my laps in!'

"But I learned a long time ago that people who say that are cowards! Weaklings too craven to shirk fate's cruel hold!" Red said, grinning now. "Puppets who see the strings but lack the will to cut them!"

"What the fuck're you talkin' about?!" Dew exclaimed, now more confused than annoyed, as he launched himself at Red as he crossed the threshold, arms spread wide in a tackle. "Is that green shit fuckin' with your brain or somethin'?"

"Yes, probably!"

Red reached out and grabbed the Stand's wrists, letting its momentum knock his upper body backwards as he delivered a knee-strike to Dew's midsection, propelling the boy and his Stand upwards in the air as Red slid across the linoleum and into the hole in the floor, dropping from the chasm ceiling, feet landing on the ground as he continued his mad dash.

Dew set back down on the ground, rubbing his belly; he knew damn well that Red could hit a shit ton harder than that. He stopped readying himself to attack, instead watching as Red sped for the border of the loop at the far end of the hall, perplexed."What are you even gettin' at with all this bullshit?"

"What I'm getting at, Dew…" Red crossed the threshold once more, the clocks read 00:00:40:33, running past the confounded boy. "Is that you don't have to be like your father if you don't want to be. You don't have to be anything you don't want to be! If you can see where the cycle starts and ends, where the seam is, with the right know-how and perfect timing…"

Red crossed the threshold once more.

Both read 00:00:43:87… but, for an almost imperceptibly short amount of time, the second phone flicked to 00:00:43:88.

Red smirked and leapt forward, streaking through the air, bridging the distance in an instant. Counting down in his mind, Red wound one arm back, one forward, his body growing, expanding, becoming thew and rippling with bestial muscle as he slipped into his unleashed form. The beast roared with exertion as both arms lashed out in opposite directions, spinning him about. Long, ape-like arms whirled about like saw blades, obliterating a section of the hallway instantaneously. Red skidded to a stop down the hall, his form receding as he huffed and puffed. He looked up at the door across the hall from him: it read 304.

Red grinned and turned down the hall, to a stunned, mortified Dew. "…You can break it."

Syx stood on Setty's back like a surfboard as she streaked through the 'Donna, having churlishly refused her offer to carry him. Setty smirked despite how it stung her split lip; Syx no doubt didn't want anyone to see him hanging from her arms like a puppy, or worse, in her arms like a swooning bride. She timed her inhales and exhales perfectly as she passed through walls and rooms of the robustly built structure. Ghosting through the 'Donna had always been a pain in the ass compared to other buildings, as not only was everything made of concrete and rebar, but whatever lunatic had designed this place loved to hide huge, double-reinforced supports in seemingly random locations, creating an endless honeycomb of dense, reinforced supports, bracings, pillars, and crossbeams.

It made moving through walls something of a roulette wheel, as she never could tell when she'd be phasing through a foot of steel and concrete, or six!

Rumor had it the 'Donna used to be an E-Day bunker for some rich Sinner, hence the endless rooms, the former gyms that were now the Bunks and Cafeteria, the huge garage that became the Shop, and just plain weird shit like the auditorium that was now Home Ec. Tales and whispers of a long-lost pool room had been circulating since she'd first set foot there, always assumed to exist, but never found. Many kids even postulated that only Boss Lady knew where the Pool Room was, and that she'd soak her nasty body in a jacuzzi every day, said jacuzzi being filled with whatever foul substance their young minds could conjure, usually the blood of kids or other, less wholesome bodily fluids.

'When all this is over, I'm gonna really knuckle down and map this place out,' she thought to herself. 'I've never even seen a jacuzzi… would I even know what a jacuzzi is if I saw it?'

"Take us down here!" Syx called out as they slipped out of the wall and into a hallway. "We're right over top of Bella's office. We drop in all at once, we can take her by surprise!"

"You reckon we'll need surprise to take that old bitch out?" Setty said, before recalling how Bella had dodged her punches before. "Hm. Actually… do we know how, like, 'Sinnery' Bella is?"

Syx shook his head, but smirked. "We can handle her, just don't drop your guard. She hasn't survived this long by being a pushover."

"Don't need to tell me twice!" Setty said, holding out her hand to him, smiling grimly. "You ready to end this bullshit for good?"

Syx reached out and took her hand, squeezing with firm, friendly pressure. "I've been waiting more than ten years for this. Let's do it."

Setty inhaled as she prepared to drop them through the floor and right on top of Bella's ugly head when a dull, rumbling sound carried on the air and through the floor, emanating from down the hall. The rumbling became the rolling clatter of hundreds of feet clomping rhythmically on the floor, the clomping underscored a strange, keening chanting that carried on the air, scores upon scores of voices forming a crude, disunified chorus.

"To the top, to the top, gonna drop drop drop!" The mob droned. "To the top, to the top, gonna chop chop chop! To the top, to the top, gonna drop drop drop!"

"C'mon haul, c'mon haul!" A familiar, melodious voice cut out over din. "To the top, to the top, let's haul haul haul!"

"To the top, to the top!" Came the reply. "Fallers fall fall fall!"

"Oh, what fresh shit is this?" Setty grumbled, shaking her head.

What appeared to be much of the 'Donna turned the corner at the end of the hallway, kids brandishing their blood-splatted impromptu weapons, at least a dozen Stand-users marching with them. At the head of the mob was Barkley, his acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder, clapping his hands as he led the chant, at his side was Barrel, his Stand [Device] wielding a 14" CutQuik saw.

"To the top, to the top, gonna–!" The mob began to chant, stopping abruptly when a sharp, piercing whistle split the air. They looked down the hall to see the Head Kids standing a ways down the hall.

"Oh, hey Setty! Syx!" Barkley said, cheerfully, waving. "How's it goin'?"

Setty switched off [Titanium] and set off towards the mob. "What the fuck is going on here?!"

"Oh this?" Barkley said, looking distinctly pleased with himself, gesturing at the crowd and then at the building around them. "We's takin' over, right? We're just cleaning house."

Setty shoved past him, sighing at what she saw. On the floor, bound and gagged, were various members of staff, including but not limited to Layla, Cowlick, Doc Habbo, a decidedly resigned-looking Emerson, Macks, and Kabby. They were all wrapped in ropes of what appeared to be pressurized air held together by the characteristic shimmer of Stand energy. The sour-faced old imp looked up at her, his pleading muffled through the dirty sock stuffed into his mouth. Setty smirked a little at this.

"I mean, yeah, they's the good ones, kinda, but Boss Lady's Deals made 'em try and stop us," said Barkley, shrugging. "So we figgered 'fuck it', y'know? We're takin' over, we don't need no Fallers or their fuckin' pets!"

"What're you going to do to them?" Syx inquired, nodding at the CutQwik saw in the hands of Barrel's Stand.

"Huh?" Barrel grunted, looking over at it and smirking. "Oh, we're gonna chop 'em into pieces and chuck 'em off the roof! Teach 'em a lesson, yeah?"

Kabby and Macks wriggled on the floor, their muffled words becoming urgent and pitchy.

"Shaddup!" Barkley snapped, kicking Kabby in the ribs. "Faller pets get the chop, too!"

The mob clamored in agreement, clashing their weapons together in gruesome applause.

"Setty, we don't have time for this," Syx whispered. "We don't know how long Dew can hold Red off!"

"Just gimme a second…" Setty replied, drinking in Kabby's desperate, panicked expression, a hard, cruel smile on her face. "Mm. That's nice… okay."

"Let them go," said Syx, snapping his fingers. "They're with us."

"What?!" Barkley cried. "But–?"

"Butts are for sniffing, poochy!" Setty snapped, gesturing at the bound and gagged Staffers. "Let 'em go!"

"But Setty, he's the reason you got in trouble! He slapped you, remember?" Barrel said, pointing at Kabby. "He's a collaborator! Red's pet! The 'Donna's gonna be for 'Donna Kids, see? Once you kill Boss Lady and Red, it'll all be ours!"

"Kill Red?!" Setty exclaimed, gesturing at them and then at the other Stand Users. "Red's the whole reason you ingrates got this far! This was his plan!"

"Plans change! We's done workin' for Fallers and their pets! If that includes you an' Syx, well…" Tobi growled, hobbling over on his club foot, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of ¼" stainless steel hex nuts, small white fuses sprouting from them. "…Nuts to you."

"Tobi," said Barkley, shocked. "What're you doin'? That's Syx and Setty!"

"Yeah!" Hazel cried, walking over to the similarly-aged imp. "They're 'Donna Kids!"

"They're with Red!" Another kid shouted from the crowd. "They just wanna trade one Faller for another!"

The mob rumbled in agreement, another voice calling out. "Yeah! They're collaborators!"

"…They mix gas and air?"

"That's a carburetor, idiot!"

"Let them go," said Setty, lips fleering back from her fangs. "Now."

"N-No, Setty!" Leni cried, stepping out of the crowd, her freshly-minted Stand mirroring her posture. "I know you're sweet on Red and all, but he's just like the rest of them! He's just, like, using us! Can't you see that?"

"Yeah!" The crowd roared.

"Shut up, Leni!" Setty snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"No, you shut up!" Leni cried, stomping her foot, her silver-blue eyes bright glistening with tears. "I'm tired of you bossing me around! Bossing us all around! We had it bad, too, you know? Like, you ain't special! We're running the 'Donna now! All of us! Not just you and Syx and most def not Red! [Scissor Sisters]!" Leni's Stand swept out between them, its shear-like fingers on its left hand slashing at the floor, carving out gouges of linoleum and cement, spinning the material into thick cables, weaving them into the needle-like fingers on its right. The Stand cast the strands out at the older girl, wrapping them around her like the coils of a python, binding her tight. "If you wanna stick with Red, then you'll stick with him, like, when we kick you all outta here!"

Setty glanced down at the cables encasing her, rolling her eyes. "Syx."

"Klk."

[D5H]'s lenses snapped open with a clack, the outer ring of its iris flaring purple. A bass thrum filled the air as the gravity around him quadrupled, forcing half the mob to their knees, crumpling under their own weight. With a gesture, Syx inverted the gravity field, sending them slamming upward into the ceiling. He restored gravity to normal and allowed them to fall back to the floor, shifting the force on its X-axis, catching them mid-air and sending them hurtling backwards, thudding into the part of the mob outside his influence, bowling them over. [D5H]'s lenses snapped back shut as the piles of kids groaned and shifted on the ground, battered but no worse for wear.

"Glad we got that sorted out," said Setty, phasing through the woven concrete cables encasing her, allowing them to tumble to the ground as she hovered over to a dazed Leni. "I don't have the time to explain it right now, but you're wrong about Red. These Staffers couldn't help us, they were Dealt with, like him, but we're working on that. Things'll be different, I promise. Just hold onto them until me and Syx take care of Boss Lady, okay?"

Leni rubbed the back of her head, grimacing at the goose egg forming them, flinching when Setty's hand jabbed out in front of her. She looked up at the older girl, seeing the uncharacteristic softness there.

"Okay?" Setty said, holding her hand out.

Leni glanced over at Barkley, who was partially buried under a pile of dazed kids, he nodded. "Okay… but you better kill Boss Lady!"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," said Setty, grinning toothily as she helped to her feet. "Now, get back to the Bunks. You'll be safer there."

"Ugh… my head…" A low, clotted voice grumbled from down the hall. "Whuh happen?"

They looked up to see Surf Mesa stumbling around the corner, rubbing his flabby, swollen head, a bottle of whiskey in his clammy paw. The miserable bigoted Sinner took notice of the gathering of kids, a sneer crawling across his ugly face.

"Ey! What're you little shits doin' up here?! Get back to yer stations, lunch was an hour ago–" He growled, eyes narrowing when he saw Setty. "You! What're ya doin' up here!? Get back to cleanin' the pipes, you lazy little slag!"

The other kids rolled off of Barkley, the hellhound groaned as he got to his feet, nodding at Surf. "What about him?"

"To the top, to the top," Setty said, smirking. "Chop chop chop."

"You heard the lady!" Barkley crowed, turning all heads to the hateful groundskeeper. "Drop drop drop!"

Surf Mesa's scowl quickly shifted into a rictus of pure terror as the mob whirled about, rushing down the hall at him, piling onto him in an unstoppable wave, wrenches and pipes and shears swinging. "AAAAGH! NO! GET OFFA ME! AAGGH! YOU MISERBLE LITTLE–AIIEEE! CHOKE ON 'EM! CHOKE ON 'EEEEM!"

"Ozzie's Taint…" Setty muttered, slightly horrified.

"Are we done here?" Syx said, impatiently.

"Shph uph am gill ella!" Kabby grumbled from the floor, his eyes wide and frantic. "Hphs ummin!"

"Oh, sorry," said Setty, severing the 'air ropes' with [Titanium]'s talons. "Close call, huh?"

Kabby retched as he yanked out the dirty sock. "Look out! He's–"

The lights flickered as an explosive crash echoed down the hallway. The ceiling bulged out like a bubble for a bare instant before it burst downward, concrete and tiles shattered into tiny pieces, kicking up huge curtains of dust. The remaining fluorescent lights flickered and sputtered, partially illuminating the cloud of debris, the looming figure within. Two points of glowing green turned to them, narrowing as flashes of Pact energy outlined a powerful frame in the darkness.

"He's here…"

Author's Note:

Well, talk about the best laid plans of mice and men. Don't feel too bad, Dew, Red has a LOT more experience when it comes to Stands battles and bullshit abilities.

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a wonderful New Year! Party hardy for me, because I'll be working (...yay...)