JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, Worm 1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

Night already? Being in here is making me lose track of time.

I shift a little amongst the filth, resigned. Nobody is coming to help me, even the janitor didn't bother to make his rounds today.

This isn't fair! What did I do to deserve this? What the fuck is their problem?

Why does Emma hate me?

...

I'm gonna die in-What was that?

Footsteps. Someone is here!

I bang on the locker door as hard as I can. "Hello?! Is there anyone there?!"

The footsteps draw closer, hope blossoming in my chest as they stop in front of the locker. It is too dark to see anything clearly through the slits, but even without the screech of tearing metal the sight of my savior ripping the locker door open would be impossible to miss.

I tumble out moments afterwards, covered in gunk from used, rotting tampons and worse, but happy beyond description. A cape! I was rescued by a cape, a hero! I look up. My rescuer is dressed completely in black which makes it difficult to pick out any details in the dark, but I'm sure he has some kind of armor and a wide-brimmed hat on his head.

Dammit I'm crying in front of a hero. "T-thank you, I-…I- thank you!" I blubber as I force myself to my knees.

Huh, is he holding somethi- "**look out**!" Huh?

My hero kicks me in the chest, flipping me onto my back before he draws his hand back and stabs me in the gut with whatever he is holding.

* * *

"Fuck!" Johan Johansen snarled as he chased his target through the dark alleys and backstreets of Brockton Bay. He had seen it! He was certain that he had seen it!

And if that _thing_ was here, then…

He had to hurry!

A kid his age wearing ABB colors leapt out of the side street ahead of him, brandishing a knife. The gang brat's demeanor changed the instant he saw Johan's mask. "Hand over-ohshit cape!"

He was blinded by a flash of light and an invisible force twisted the knife out of his hand before Johan rammed a taser into his side. The kid's two friends, a girl and an even younger boy, were dumbstruck both by the revelation that they were facing a cape and how easily Johan had dealt with their compatriot.

Johan left them staring at their unconscious friend. He had more important things to do right now, and the distraction had almost made him lose sight of the target.

Skipping around the corner, and narrowly avoiding tripping over a trashcan, Johan caught the target breaking down the doors to Winslow High School.

"The hell?" That thing never entered buildings, not unless it was following whoever it was after inside, and Winslow should be empty at this hour. He rubbed the back of his neck. This whole thing was ringing every alarm bell in his head but there was just no time!

"C2!" He sent C2 ahead of him to tail the target, which was about the only thing that C2 would be able to do against it anyway. C2 quickly outpaced Johan even as the young man set off in a dead sprint towards the broken down doors of Winslow.

Right in time to see it preparing to stab its own target: A dirty, filth-covered girl who was looking up at it with adoring eyes.

"Look out!" He yelled in vain, his pistol not even out of its holster as the target stabbed the girl in the gut. Oh fuck a bucket of finished its job, the target turned towards Johan and started to walk back to the exit.

"Hey, asshole!" Johan passed the cheap revolver to his left hand and pointed it straight towards the target. His left leg took a half-step forward while his right leg rotated ninety degrees to point straight right. His head followed the movement of his right leg and his right hand pulling the brim of his fedora over the upper part of his mask. "Remember me?!"

He pulled the trigger and the revolver kicked in his hand, its bark heralding the streaking bullet.

Which was caught by C2 a few feet from the mouth of the barrel.

"Oh for- Really? _Really_?" Even if he used a gun? Johan glared at the target, snarling at it even as he moved out of its way. He had no desire to have C2 strangle or blind him again.

Besides, Johan thought as he watched something rise out of the girl, she needed him right now. He called 911.

"Looks like I'll be staying in costume for a while." He mumbled to himself and C2. He'd have to stay with the girl for a while to explain what the hell happened to her. It wasn't many who survived being stabbed by that thing, and those who did usually stayed unconscious for a while.

Which meant that he had to stick around and keep her Stand from hurting anyone. _Joy._

* * *

I wake up in a hospital room.

Looking around tells me that there is someone else in here too: A guy in a greyish green jacket, jeans, a full-face mask, and a fedora. He's currently sitting in a chair by my bed, resting his head on his arms on the nightstand, asleep.

I turn my head to the left and scream.

"Whuzat?!" The guy wakes up with a start and ends up falling out his chair, but I'm too busy screaming to pay it much mind. The upper half of a straightjacketed woman is sticking out of my stomach, her filth-encrusted attire covering every inch of her body as she soundlessly shoves her face into mine. How the fuck did I not see that thing when I woke up, and how long has it been there?!

The guy grabs me by the shoulder and forces me back down on the bed when I try to escape. "Listen! Hey, lis-!" Something makes the air around me ripple, and the guy is violently launched away from me as if he was hit by a car.

"Ugh…" He stands up as I start to hyperventilate. "Look, that thing is your friend. You 'triggered' last night, you're a cape."

I'm a cape? "I'm a cape?" I blink. The woman hasn't done anything but grow out of my stomach so I try to calm my breathing, slowing down and-

"Taylor what is-YOUSONUVABITCH!" Dad?

Dad, his face a mask of complete and utter rage, rushes the masked guy with his fist rearing back to strike. What's with him? Oh…

I realize how it must look to him: I'm lying here screaming while a masked guy Dad doesn't know is standing over me. No wonder he jumped to the obvious conclusion. The guy seems to realize it too, for he backs away from me the instant Dad started to rush him, his hands held placatingly in front of him. "Mr. I can assure you that this is-"

Dad doesn't listen of course, throwing a wild haymaker towards the guy when he gets close enough. Not that the guy seems all that worried, he's just standing there with his hands-

A ghostly arm, muscled but slim, comes out of the guy's shoulder and catches Dad's fist, stopping it cold. The arm looks like it is covered in some strange cloth made up of multicolored patches, though the colors themselves shift and flow hither and dither across the arm.

"Like I was saying:" The guy says as he forcibly brings Dad's arm down to his side. "This isn't what it looks like. You daughter has…'triggered', and was panicking at the sight of the projection created by her power." At Dad's confused expression he adds: "It is only visible to your daughter and myself. We are what most people refer to as…" A trace of disgust enters the guy's voice:

"Arrow Capes."

I'm an Arrow Cape? Like Star Platinum and Gold Experience? I am about to ask, but the entry of a man wearing what is obviously Tinker made armor cuts me off before I can begin. "Arrow Cape?" The newcomer asks gruffly. I spot the hilt of a halberd jutting over his shoulder, is this Armsmaster?

"That's right, Armsmaster." Replies the guy in the fedora, his voice dripping with venom. "An 'Arrow Cape'. And I am not relinquishing, so if that's what you're here for then you can just turn yourself around right now!" The multicolored arm and the body it is attached to emerge fully from the guy, revealing the full form of the Arrow Cape Projection. All Arrow Capes have them, but only other Arrow Capes can see them.

"I am only here to inform the girl of her options." Armsmaster responds with some heat. He then goes on to list the benefits of joining the Wards program after my time with 'C2'.

"C2?"

"That would be me." Says the guy with the fedora. "It stands for '**Century Color**', but I shortened it to C2. That kinda thing is normal amongst us"

C2 straightens up a little. "The 'time with me' that Armsmaster was talking about is part of the deal between Open Mic and the PRT: The gist of it is that I'll be your guide into the world of…'Arrow Capes' for the next couple of weeks. After that…" He shrugs. "Up to you. But right now…"

C2 turns towards Dad and Armsmaster. "Could you two please wait outside? I am about to unmask."

Armsmaster has to drag Dad out of the room, but eventually I am alone with C2. "I'm unmasking because secret identities aren't as useful among Stand Users as with other capes. Are you okay with us both unmasking?"

I'm masked? I touch my face. "Why am I masked? And why aren't they? The secret identities, I mean."

"I was the one who found you after you got arrowed, so I out a spare mask on you after I called the cops." C2 patiently explains. "And since we can see each other's stands, with some exceptions, just putting on a mask isn't as effecting as it otherwise would be. And before you ask: Stand User is the proper term for people like us. 'Arrow Cape' is a slur. The word 'Stand' refers to the projection."

Oh. "I-I'm fine with it." I blink. "You first."

He chuckles. "Of course." C2 smoothly reaches up and plucks his mask of his face. Wait, the Norwegian guy who transferred in to Winslow last year? "Johan Johansen, at your service. My Stand is named Century Color." The riot of color beside him bows as if expecting applause.

I take off my own mask, my mouth dry as I introduce myself. "My name is T-Taylor Hebert." I swallow and look at my 'Stand'. The straightjacketed woman hasn't done anything else since I noticed her. "My stand is called…called…" My eyes start watering as I just sit there and gape dumbly at C-Johan. Damn it, just…damn it.

"If the name doesn't come at once you should try to move it a little." I glance back at the woman through the years in my eyes. How the hell do I do that?

"Just will it to do so. Try to think of it as a limb, like an extra arm and not like a separate being."

I swallow and close my eyes in concentration. "Lean to the left." The woman without a minimum of fuss. Huh. I make it lean slowly from side to side, though it can't make it come all the way out. There also feels like there is some sort of switch in it, like…

I flick the switch, Johan yelps and hugs himself- "Taylor!"

"Y-yes?!" I squeak.

"Calm down." He holds up a pair of threadbare jackets and a pair of equally threadbare pants, and I notice that he is standing in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt. "Just…just fix 'em, kay?"

"Y-yes." God, I hope Dad doesn't enter right now. I flick the switch again, and the two jackets and the two pairs of pants smoothly flow together to form two full articles of clothing, which Johan proceeds to put back on. "Do you know what I just did?"

Johan shrugs. "No, but I think you power is similar to Sticky Fingers'. At first I thought that you were just halving the mass of my clothes and making separate articles with them, but the color and weight were different so you might have separated them by fabric." He turns back to me and smiles friendlily. "We'll have to experiment, which the best part of seeing a new Stand in action. Which reminds me: Do you know what its name is now?"

How was that supposed to- wait. I…I just- I just know it…

"Isolated." I utter breathlessly. "My Stand's name is **Isolated**."

* * *

*/

**JOJO's Bizarre Adventure Part 6 [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

**AN**

**Stand Name: Century Color 'C2'  
Master**: Johan Johansen 'JoJo'.  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power C  
Speed B  
Range A  
Durability D  
Precision A  
Developmental Potential A

**Abilities:**

**Million Color**: Century Color can change the color of any person or object within a one kilometer range as long as it or Johan can see the target in question. The shade and brightness of these colors can be changed at will, and are not limited to one color per target.

**Long Range: **Century Color can move more than one hundred meters away from Johan before it starts to lose strength and speed.

Named after the J-pop song of the same name by **Rays Guns**.

*/

**Stand Name: Isolated  
Master**: Taylor Hebert.  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power A  
Speed E  
Range D  
Durability C  
Precision B  
Developmental Potential A

**Abilities:**

**Made Segregated: **Isolated can divide a target into separate parts. These parts are sorted by a property that the user decides on. People can survive the separation if Taylor maintains the separation effect and doesn't move more than ten meters away, the separate parts will act as if they were still connected. If she cancels the effect or moves out of range the target will most likely die from being neatly sliced into bits or any other gruesome fates awaiting them.

**Have no choice but be isolated:** Isolated can at any time form a short-lived field two centimeters from the user's skin that instantly annihilates anything between it and the user. Objects outside this field but within a two meter radius will be subjected to a powerful omnidirectional shockwave. This ability must be triggered by the user, but Isolated can launch weak shockwaves from itself if it thinks that Taylor is being threatened.

**Stationary:** Isolated is stuck within Taylor and cannot move away from her, though it can partially emerge from different parts of Taylor's body.

Named after the song of the same name by **Chiasm**.


	2. 1 Asylum Colors

**Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Part [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

**Chapter 1. Asylum Colors.**

* * *

Johan and Century Color leave after I learn Isolated's name, saying something about seeing me tomorrow. Dad comes in afterwards, alone because Armsmaster has already left.

"Jesus, Kiddo, I…" He shakes his hands helplessly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Isolated tilts its head before rubbing its dirty cheek against mine. "I…it was just so…hard." I finish lamely. "With Emma-"

Dad looks up sharply. "Emma?"

Oh, right. He doesn't know. I tell him everything, about Emma, the bullying, all of it. He is absolutely berserk at the end of it, of course, but I manage to talk him down from going too far.

"Don't worry about it." He grinds out. "I have my ways."

_***/**_

Johan drops by the next day, dressed in his C2 costume. He takes off his mask and smiles at me, Century Color floating up to my belly to poke Insolated in the head. The colorful stand withdraws almost instantly as Isolated tries to headbutt its hand, which lightens the mood a little.

"Sorry about that." Johan tells me as his laughter dies down. "I wanted to see if your Stand had its own personality, they have those sometimes." He holds up his hands. "They're usually not as developed as people, but those who have personalities tend to be pretty distinctive with what little they have."

"Any questions in particular, or do you just want me to give you the canned spiel?" Johan asks as Century Color lazily circles the room.

"Why does every Arrow Cape have a projection?" Oh fuck. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

Greens and purples race along Century Color's skin, but Johan seems to take no offense. "Don't worry about it. The gist of it is that all Stands are different instances of the same phenomena, in this case the phenomenon is a manifestation with a power that only others with their own manifestations can see." He shrugs. "That is how I had it explained to me, at least."

His voice hardens a little. "As to why the term 'Arrow Cape' is so offensively inaccurate, the main point is that there are other ways to gain a stand than with one of those Arrows, and the fact that we aren't parahumanss."

Wait, what? "We're not? But we have powers."

"We predate Scion by at least several decades. The first major battle between Stand Users, the Stardust Crusade, just happened to take place after he showed up."

The Stardust Crusade. A month-long cape conflict that raged from Japan to Cairo between the Hero team the Stardust Crusaders and some unnamed villain team. It was later confirmed that every single member of the two teams were Arrow Capes. Star Platinum, the only Stardust Crusader still active, is more or less the Arrow Cape equivalent of a member of the Triumvirate.

"Since then the Arrows spread around the world, making new Stand Users left and right which rapidly bolstered our numbers, and with that thing walking around with one of them the public perception that we are capes made by special arrows stuck."

"You mean that thing that…" Dammit, it hurts to remember how the joy of being rescued from the locker turned to feelings of betrayal.

"That stabbed you? Yes. It used to be a Stand, its name is Silver Chariot Requiem."

"Hold it." I have to be imaging things. "Silver Chariot? As in the Stardust Crusader?" Heroes have become villains before, I know that, but it just seems like such a sudden shift.

"Its master was killed by another Stand User while using it to pick up one of the Arrows, which turned it into…that." Johan shudders and grabs Century Color's hand. "It has the power to turn your Stand against you, can switch people's bodies, and it carries that Arrow with it wherever it goes. We have no idea what it wants, it just goes around and makes new Stand Users since it was made ten years ago, during the Italian Arrow Conflict."

I pet Isolation on the head before hugging it close. "Stay away from the Arrows, got it. But…if they aren't the only way to get a Stand, then what are the other ways?"

"Aside from the Arrows the ways of getting a Stand isn't an exact science." Johan begins. "Most of the time you just wake up one day and discover that you have it, or gained them after going through something life-changing or made some sort of resolution or by putting their all into something. You can also be born to someone who has been stabbed with an Arrow, or be descended from one who has been stabbed." He releases Century Color and lets the Stand float over to the window. "Anything else?"

"Tons." Literally. There are just so many things I want to ask.

The folding chair Johan is sitting in creaks under his weight as he shifts in it and reaches into his bag. "Can we test your Stand while we talk? I brought some different things with me for you to practice on, mostly clothing."

"Um…" I begin lamely as I separate a ball of threads into two smaller balls. "Do I have to join Open Mic?" Open Mic is kinda like an international Protectorate for Ar-Stand Users.

"Nah, and they won't let you join them until your time with me is up anyway. You've only been a Stand User for less than a week." Johan hands the two balls over to Century Color, who weighs them in its hands before nodding at its master. "It's a common mistake to treat Open Mic like an organization every Stand User is a member of. Most of us are only associate members, so for us it is just an international forum and support network. Full members like the Passione gang, Star Platinum, Crazy Diamond, etcetera, are sent around the world to break up major conflicts between Stand Users, locate Arrows and similar artifacts, and stop Stand Users that qualify for being S-Class threats."

Johan narrows his eyes in concentration. "Like that **Fly Me To the Moon** guy in 2006, crazy bastard got his hand on an Arrow and tried to get something from space before he was taken down." He smiles, a touch of pride entering his voice. "My uncle was part of the team sent to stop him, y'know."

I have Isolated recombine the two balls and move on to the mess of sticks and metal wiring he pulls out next. "I don't think I've heard of that guy. Fly Me To the Moon, I mean."

He shrugs as I separate the mess into a pile of sticks that collapse the instant they are free of the wiring, which just sits there looking ugly without the sticks hiding some of the rust. "No surprise there. It was a Stand User only affair with no civilian casualties, of course few people would hear about it outside Open Mic members. I still think it was kinda arbitrary that the guy got a Kill Order, but then again, I don't really know what he was after."

Huh. "Next thing please."

We play around with my Stand's power for a while, learning a lot about how it works. As far as we can tell it marks a target and then created two 'boxes', each corresponding with a property of the target in question, and then it divides the target and places the pieces into these two boxes. Like, if I took a shirt made up of both synthetic and natural fabrics (with metal buttons, plastic decorations, etc.) and then divided along the property 'natural fabric' I would get one pile of natural fabric while the rest of the shirt would be in another. If that makes sense.

Johan starts packing up. "Time to go?"

"Yeah, got stuff to do tonight, and I might not be able to make it tomorrow."

Really? "What's going on?"

"Nothing all that serious." He says assuringly. "There are a couple other Stand Users here in town, and two of 'em, Burn My Dread and Drowning Pool, have been getting close to blows lately, and since I'm the Open Mic representative in Brockton Bay I have to go and tell them to knock it off."

He grins at me, the expression mirrored by Century Color, before he puts his mask back on and swings the bag onto his back. "Just focus on getting better, Isolated."

"Huh?"

"What? Oh yeah, that. Sorry. I forgot to tell you: We Stand Users use the name of our Stand as our cape names, like how Armsmaster called me Century Color or C2 yesterday."

Sadly, all things must end. Johan has to deal with the two Stand Users causing shit and might not be able to come for a couple of days. Saying out goodbyes got really awkward over that, not sure why. I mean, I can get me being awkward because I'm awkward Taylor and…stuff, but why would Johan feel bad about not being able to visit tomorrow?

At least I have something to look forward to when I go back to school. Been a while since last time.

* * *

_[Midnight the next day]_

Johan glared down at the two Stand users in front of him, having just interrupted their fight. "I believe I told you two to knock it the fuck off. You can settle your score on the stage, or somewhere with no people around, not in the middle of the city."

"Fuck off, brat." Snarled David Moreyes, master of the Stand **Drowning Pool**. He wouldn't have looked out of place in a Merchant safehouse, dressed in a cheap hoodie and a dirty pair of cheap knockoff jeans. What made him stand out was the buzzing swarm of insect-winged needles hovering around him like a shroud, each one muttering a different cussword. "I believe I told you to shove it up your ass."

"You did, you filth." Said the second man with some disdain. He was taller than Drowning pool, and looked like he was much better off in his neat shirt and clean longcoat. A huge knight in black armor with silver highlights hovered a few inches above the ground behind him, the night giving the Stand power beyond what it usually would possess. To face Ethan Holstein and his Stand **Burn My Dread** at night was a fool's gambit. "But I find myself agreeing. This is no concern for Open Mic."

Century Color manifested above Johan. "I'm gonna have to force the issue, don't I?" He sighed before he snapped his fingers.

To the masters of Drowning Pool and Burn My Dread it seemed like nothing happened until they looked at each other and discovered that they had been colored a light-devouring shade of utter black. "What is the meaning of this?" Demanded the master of Burn My Dread. "What are you-"

Johan cut him off "It's a cloudless night." He said crisply, and then everything turned white.

Five minutes and a phone call later the passed out bodies of David Moreyes and Ethan Holstein were loaded into a van. Their punishment would be light, just a forced session onstage together to work out their differences and find a solution.

Should he visit ES's place? Johan checked his watch. No, no he shouldn't. He had school tomorrow, though the follow up regarding the two doofuses would probably keep him from visiting Taylor.

Dammit.

* * *

Dad wasn't happy with the way the lawsuit against the school ended: They'll pay the medical bill, but the terrible trio gets off with not even a slap on the wrist. I don't know why I expected anything else, the word of three popular girls against that of one plain loner. I dreaded every step towards Winslow, and-

"Hey, Taylor!"

I look up from my intense study of the asphalt, spotting the shifting, clashing display of color that is Johan's Stand before I see the guy himself. Both master and Stand is waving at me by the school gates.

"Sorry I couldn't make it the last few days, trouble at my part time job. How have you been?"

"That's okay." I mumble. "And fine, thanks."

"Cool. You got time after school? We kinda need to finish up."

"Yeah." I answer, looking this way and that, waiting for the three of them to make their move. "I'll just need to leave a note at home first."

Feels nice to have someone on my side for once.

* * *

School.

Johan and I are in different classes, so we part ways after entering. I can't see Emma, Sophia, or Madison around, but that doesn't really mean anything. At least I've got eyes in the back of my head now.

While lying in the hospital bed I discovered something interesting: Isolated actually has eyes. The head part of the straightjacket cracks open in two places, revealing nothing but a pair of deep brown eyes. But that's not the best part.

_I can see through Isolated's eyes_!

It takes surprisingly little concentration to look in two directions at once with two heads, even when Isolated is sticking its head out from between my shoulders to watch for the terrible trio. That should give me some advance warning so I can get away without them thinking that I'm running. Just gotta stop Isolated from throwing any more shockwaves and I'll be golden.

Classes are the usual slog: The bored teachers drone on to the few people paying attention (like myself), the various gangers glare at each other, Madison prepares to blow a spitball at the back of my head, all waiting for the clock to finally reach the-

…Wait.

I react the first way that comes to mind, jerking backwards in time to only get a tiny, nearly unnoticeable trace of wetness on my cheek from the spitball, which hits the E88 ganger in the row in front of me instead. He starts at the tiny, wet impact, his surprise turning into rage as he locates the spitball. His head whips towards me and I force myself to look away from him and over at Madison, who is slowly putting the straw away. Through Isolated's eyes I see the E88 ganger snarl at her and make a throat slitting motion before disgustedly rubbing the spitball off his hand with the side of his desk. Madison gives a little 'eep' as she hurriedly stuffs the straw into her pencil case, paling in terror even as she glares at me.

Her expression is going to brighten my day for weeks. That she is fully aware of my elation sours it somewhat: She is bound to report to Emma, which will probably ensure that they make whatever they're planning so much worse.

I did learn that I should never not have Isolated watch my back. I should probably ask Johan about it too, he might know more about this.

The terrible trio doesn't pull anything today, which sets me even more on edge. What the fuck are they planning on doing to me? And when?

I find Johan waiting by the exit, still completely unmolested, and we head towards my house.

"Johan?" I ask when we come to a lightly populates street. "Is it normal to see things your Stand sees?"

He hmms. "It is more common in long range Stands like Century Color, much rarer in stands that cannot leave the user." Century Color emerges from Johan's back and waves at me. "You sayin' you can see through Isolated's eyes?"

He jerks suddenly. "Wait, does Isolated even _have_ eyes?"

I make Isolated stick its head out of my shoulder and have it crack its eyes open. "I found out earlier today."

"Neat." He glances left and right as we enter a street with a lot of people in it. "Try to act like nothing's going on."

Century Color floats up in front of him and says. "Too many people around, don't want 'em to catch anything."

The fuck? Isolated starts frantically wriggling as a response to my surprise.

"Hey, calm down." Century Color says in what sounds like Johan's voice. "I'm just talking through my Stand. You should be able to do it if your Stand has a mouth."

I look at Isolated. Isolated looks at me.

It is really just a fancy looking limb, I tell myself and focus. Just gotta make Isolated speak in my voice…

"Mmf."

Johan struggles not to laugh, and I wanna crawl into a hole and die.

* * *

We're on our way to the place of this ES guy Johan mentioned when we meet them: An old lady and a wild-looking girl carrying a cardboard box filled with puppies walk around the corner in front of us, startling Johan.

"Mrs. Canile?"

"Hm?" The old lady stops and turns to look at him, the dirty girl doing the same while glaring at us. "Oh! Johan" She walks closer with a smile, the girl with her reluctantly following.

"How have you been, dear?"

"Just fine ma'am." Johan really seems to like her. He then points towards me. "This is Taylor, we're headed to ES' place."

I'm not sure I like the look in Mrs. Canile's eye. "ES' place? Interesting." She looks thoughtfully at me for a second, but then her expression brightens. "But where are my manners?" The girl holding the boxful of adorable puppies looks really uncomfortable when Mrs. Canile draws our attention to her.

"This is Rachel. She has just started working for me at the shelter." Rachel doesn't really look all that comfortable, she must be shy.

"Hi, I'm Taylor." I say with Johan introducing himself right afterwards.

"Bit-…Rachel." She grumbles. Guess she isn't comfortable with strangers.

We talk for a while more, apparently Mrs. Canile has been running a dog shelter for almost forty years, but Johan eventually ends the conversation. "It's nice seeing you and all, but we kinda need to get going." He puts a hand on my shoulder, making Isolated shift a bit in irritation. "We need to be there soon or ES' gonna cancel the reservation."

Wait, reservation?

Mrs. Canile laughs so hard that her body shakes like a leaf, though Rachel just looks confused. Poor girl. "Just have fun you two. See you later."

I ask him about it after we've walked another block. "The reservation? I got ES to lend us his basement for practicing with your Stand, but if we don't show up on time he'll probably not let us in. He takes deals and such pretty seriously."

Huh. I…guess that's okay?

"I also wanted to get out of there before Mrs. Canile remembered that I stepped on one of her tiny dogs last year. I really do not enjoy being hit in the head with her solid oak cane, not one bit."

…That's odd. "Why are you so wary around her?" He just seems so…serious when dealing with that old lady.

Johan takes a deep breath before he answers. "Mrs. Canile is also known as **Who Let the Dogs Out**, one of the oldest Stand Users in America."

"Really, Johan?" I deadpan. He's just joking, right?

He doesn't answer.

I have to force myself not to gape. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious. She is also rumored to be a master martial artist and improvised weapon specialist, but I've never seen anything to suggest that those stories are true."

A though claws its way to the forefront of my mind. "I didn't see her Stand."

"That's because it is a tattoo. You would only see it if you stripped her naked." He slows down before continuing in a somewhat thoughtful tone. "Or she could just roll up her sleeve and then you'd both wait until it showed up there. It moves around her body, you see."

Okay, that's just odd. Isolated emerges from my gut, facing me as it bends up so that I can give it a quick hug before it withdraws back into my body.

Mrs. Canile's Stand is odd.

* * *

ES' place turns out to be a club located on the edge of Downtown, a club named Never Never Land. A massive bouncer is standing outside the entrance, glaring at nothing as Johan and I approach. He doesn't challenge us as we pass him, letting us enter the club without incident.

"Don't worry." Johan reassures me when I ask him. "I know the owner and they know that I do, so unless he tells 'em to not let me in we're colorful."

Colorful? He probably means 'golden', but…I watch as Century Color turns idly around in the air, its colors flowing, mixing, and contrasting all over its body. Johan must have a somewhat different outlook on colors.

…I won't be like that, will I? I won't be all weird with asylums or straightjackets will I?

My train of though is stalled when Johan leads me to a heavyset man in a cheap suit talking to the bartender. The club itself is almost empty with just a handful of people nursing light drinks at the counter or at a table.

"Hey, ES."

The heavyset man turns around to face us and checks his watch. "You're here early. Let's go into my office."

Caught in an unfamiliar area, I summon Isolated and keep the exit in mind. If it is a trap I can blast them all with a shockwave and then run for it.

ES' office is a dingy place with peeling wallpaper and an overly fancy looking bed (not sure I like the implications of that one), and a work desk with a pair of folding chairs in front of it.

"So, Century Color…" ES drones at Johan. Wait, this guy is a Stand User? "What have you told her about this place?"

"That it is your club. I have neglected to tell her about your Stand and…activities though."

ES smirks a little before he reaches down to his waist and takes a small leather pouch off his belt. He lays it on the table and opens it, revealing its contents: Some greenish white dust. "This…is my Stand: **Enter Sandman**. Anyone I throw this dust at falls asleep."

"Yourself included?"

ES and Johan stare silently at me and I realize what I just said. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

They both throw back their heads and laugh. It isn't the kind of laughter I'm used to, this isn't cruel, but…amazed? Happy?

Johan pats my shoulder. "Keep doing that kind of thinking, Taylor, you'll fit right in with us!"

Okay, then.

The basement is a pretty big, if bare place. Some crates and a pair of overburdened shelves lining one of the walls but otherwise empty.

"Alrighty, then." Johan takes a couple of things out of his bag. "Before we begin, do you have any questions about Stands?"

"There is something that has been bugging me," I tell him after thinking about it for a second. "What is _your_ power? I'm guessing that it has something to do with colors, but what does your Stand _do_?"

He blinks dumbly at me. "…I really forgot to tell you? Shit, I'm sorry." He puts one of those foldable wooden measuring sticks on top of a crate before he summons Century Color.

"This is my Stand: Century Color. Its power lets me control the colors of any object within one kilometer, allowing me to change the color, the number of colors, and the shade and brightness of those colors. Provided that one of us can see the object in question." Johan and Century Color strike a pose together as Johan finishes' his explanation.

"Anything else?" He asks as he unfolds the measuring stick.

"Well…" Other than that what I really want to know is. "So far there I've seen Century Color and Isolated, and then there is that black thing, a tattoo, and a bag of sand, can anything be a Stand?"

Johan shrugs. "Pretty much. You'd think that you've seen some weird things, but then you show up at any given Open Mic meeting and realize that you haven't seen anything yet. There are however some pretty defined categories of Stand."

"Like what?" Anything solid amongst this weirdness would be really welcome.

"Stands that are directly controlled by the User, those that aren't directly controlled but follow the User's orders, Stands that are bound to physical objects…" He goes on for a while as he places some small cardboard cutouts at even intervals away from me.

"So we have normal Stands?"

"Yup. Now," He takes hold of the measuring stick and pokes me in the stomach with the other end from a few meters away. "Whenever you're ready, try to use your shockwave thingy."

"Are you sure?" I say hesitantly. I don't want to hurt him by accident.

"I wasn't thrown that far when you did it to me reflexively." He explains, apparently unconcerned about any harm to himself.

"…Okay." I feel out my connection with Isolated, searching for the second switch. God I hope I don't-

The air ripples momentarily, the long measuring stick wobbling even as the cutouts are tossed away from me. Johan puts the measuring stick down on the ground before he slides his fingers along it until he comes to the toppled cutout furthest away from me.

He looks up to me with a smile. "Looks like it has a radius of around two meters, much stronger than the first time."

A two meter shockwave, huh. "That was on reflex. This time it was intentional."

"I figured." He picks up the stick again. "One more time?"

"Please. "

Johan puts the stick on top of a crate before helping me with setting the cutouts back upright. Then I walk back to the center of the room and wait until the stick is poking me before…wait.

"One sec." I tell him before I grab the poking end and examine it: The first number is a 2. "Come look at this."

"What the fuck…" Johan mutters when he sees it. "I just bought this thing yesterday."

Our eyes meet and find nothing but agreement: We have to do this again.

Half an hour and a significantly shortened measuring stick later, we find out what was happening: Whenever I use my shockwave power I annihilate anything that is within two centimeters of my skin, with the exception of whatever I'm wearing. The shockwave itself will only affect things within two meters of myself and Isolated.

With this…I can be a hero.

"I brought some things I could bring into the hospital." Johan explains as he opens a large duffel bag that was lying in a corner, pulling out a few handguns and a cage with a mouse in it. "If you're still up for some more experimenting, that is."

Using my powers on living things to see how they affect them, another thing I'm not sure I like.

Just one instance of animal cruelty won't make me not a hero, right?

* * *

As Taylor and Johan were experimenting in ES' basement a young man clutching a bouquet of roses stepped out of a bus in Brockton Bay. He looked to be in his later teens, twenty at most, with light brown hair and deep green eyes.

He was also idly singing a song in his native German while in the middle of ABB territory, which three younger teenagers with knives took exception to.

"You've got a lot of hair for a skinhead." The eldest of the lot taunted whilst brandishing a knife, his younger compatriots following suit with their own weapons.

The boy sighed resignedly, shrugging with his arms wide open before lashing out. The roses kept the knife arm of the eldest gang member at bay whilst the German boy's left hand grabbed his jaw.

"**Blumenkranz.**"

The ABB ganger went slack before his body twisted, his bones and flesh reshaping into a suit of organic looking armor and what was unmistakably a very large shotgun.

To the younger gang members the whole process had taken no more than a second, their shock of their second cape encounter rooting them in place.

The boy leant backwards, as if he wanted to exaggerate the act of looking down on the would be muggers before he cocked the shotgun. He was alone seconds afterwards.

After making sure they were gone he released the transformation, the forcibly reshaped gang member running off with tears streaking from his eyes the instant he regained control of his own body.

The German boy watched him go, sneering as he bent to retrieve his bouquet.

His ruined bouquet.

"Fuck." He snarled to himself as he stalked after the gangers. There was no trace of them when he exited the alley, but that was no concern: He had memorized their gang colors, so it was just a matter of finding them before he ripped them a-Florist!

A smile on his face, the boy walked over to the nice looking flower shop across the street.

Perhaps he'd just inform them that the last nazi in his family was his great-grandfather. After a light beating, of course.

_***/**_

When the German boy left the florist another boy about the same age, perhaps older, stood waiting for him. He was wearing white pants and a black jacket over a frilly white shirt. A necklace consisting of an empty monocle frame on a chain hung around his neck. He was flipping a coin.

The other boy greeted the first in a thick English(?) accent. "You should be happy you still got my daughter, or I'd never have found you!"

The German boy titled his head. "…Do-…do you mean the coin you gave me?" He held up a Euro coin, having fished it from his pocket while trying to translate whatever his companion had said into English. If you were of the right persuasion, one would notice the odd bone-clad gauntlet that covered the hand.

The other boy nodded contently before he in turn held up the coin he had been flipping. "Right, like this one." It was the same kind of coin as the one held by his associate, the letters on it declaring it to be a 1-Euro coin. He flipped it again, harder this time. The coin shot upwards, where it was caught by a golden pincer. A second pincer clack-clacked and the coin disappeared.

"Is the plan still the same?" Asked the English boy before he once again flipped that very same coin.

The German boy nodded. "It is." He began to walk down the street towards the hotel where a reservation was waiting for him, leading the English boy away from the florist. "Have you found anything out about the target?"

"He moves 'round a lot, but I have seen the guy. Always keeps his buddy out like he doesn't have a care in the world."

The German boy kept quiet for a minute to make sure he understood what his companion actually said.

"…I see." He glanced over at his compatriot. "You remember what to do when we find him, right?"

"Of course: I keep people away, an' you get him all to yourself. I'm not to interfere in your fancy little revenge thing." The English boy answered in a tone of mockery.

The German boy clenched his fists, his stride taking on a hint of menace as he sped up.

Revenge would be his! Century Color would pay!

* * *

**AN**

**Stand Name: Drowning Pool  
Master**: David Moreyes.  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power D  
Speed A  
Range C  
Durability D  
Precision A  
Developmental Potential C

**Abilities:**

**Let the Bodies Hit the Floor: **Drowning Pool's needles are covered in a toxin that can numb, paralyze, knock out, cripple, or kill any living target they hit, depending on dosage

*/

**Stand Name: Burn My Dread  
Master**: Ethan Holstein.  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power C-A  
Speed C-A  
Range E-C  
Durability B-A  
Precision A  
Developmental Potential B

**Abilities:**

**Nightly Dance of Bleeding Swords:** Whenever Burn My Dread strikes something with its sword a second reality is created were it strikes in a different manner. The user may then decide which strike that actually happened. This ability may only be used at night.

**Run 'till I See the Sunlight Again: **Burn My Dread is weakened during daytime.

*/

**Stand Name: Who Let the Dogs Out.  
Master**: Mrs. Canile.  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power N/A  
Speed E  
Range D  
Durability A  
Precision D  
Developmental Potential B

**Abilities:**

**Beast of Me:** Who Let the Dogs Out gives the User the ability to turn anyone within ten meters into random dogs. This effect lasts until the User cancels the effect or until two hours have passed.

*/

**Stand Name: Enter Sandman.  
Master**: Eric Sanderson.  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power E  
Speed N/A  
Range E  
Durability A  
Precision E  
Developmental Potential D

**Abilities:**

**Exit Light:** Those breathing in the dust created by Enter Sandman will fall asleep.

**Enter Night: **If the user breathes in the dust they will fall asleep as well, but will be able to wander from dream to dream. The user can control whatever dream he is in, but nothing that happens in the dream carries over into the dreaming world other than vague sensations.


	3. 2 Blumenkranz

**JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

**Chapter 2. Blumenkranz.**

It's been a couple of days now since we tested out my powers in Enter Sandman's basement. Since then Johan's been helping me with things like the legal stuff of apprehending thugs, acceptable levels of force, and the whats and whens of appropriating whatever the bad guys happen to have on them at the time. We've gone for a couple of patrols too, but they really take a lot out of me.

Maybe I should take up jogging…

"Sorry, I'm gonna be busy this Sunday, as well as any Sunday in the foreseeable future."

Oh. I had asked him whether or not he was free this weekend. Come to mind, Johan didn't check in the Sunday I was in the hospital either. "What's up?"

He looks really uncomfortable for a second, greens and purples racing across Century Color's patchwork skin. I backpedal furiously. "Er, you don't have to tell me or-"

"It's not that…s'not that. I just got things to do." Yup, he's definitively uncomfortable.

"Got it…" I mutter before I close my new locker and pick up my bag, closing it shut before putting it on. "We're still up for tomorrow, right?"

Johan perks up a bit, probably jumping at the change of subject. "Yeah." That's good. I'll need to get used to going out at night if I'm going to be a hero. Not that we've gotten into any fights worse than a couple of Merchants that is. To be honest, I kinda wish that we'd get to fight a cape or another Stand User, just so something would actually happen beyond walking around at night in icy slush hoping that we'll come across something criminal.

From what I've been able to gather Johan lives alone somewhere on a stipend provided by Open Mic. I'm not sure where, but we do end up walking together after school until we split around the halfway point. 

Which is, incidentally, when something pings off a streetlight, the sidewalk and the building we're walking alongside of before it hits Johan in the chest. He lets out a startled sound and clutches at the impact area as I reflexively summon Isolated. Was that a fucking bullet? Did Johan just get _shot_?

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he lifts his hands form the impact area. No blood. No projectile. The hell?

Johan, his confusion made obvious thanks to Century Color, pats where he was hit. "What the-" He mumbles before sticking his hand into his chest pocket. He withdraws a coin with a tiny piece of paper attached to it with a rubber band. Wordlessly he passes the coin over to his Stand.

Once it has been unwrapped he takes the note and reads it.

And reads it.

…and reads it. "Joha-"

Johan's hand clenches, crumpling the note. "This," he declares "is the work of a Stand."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Well, _he's_ definitively certain. "It is a challenge, and whoever the message is from, they know me."

A sting of pain reveals that I've been biting my lip. "Is that a good thing, or…?"

"Not sure. Whatever it is, it is tomorrow afternoon." Johan stops, as if thinking deeply about something.

"…You don't have to come." 

…Fuck that. "I'm not letting you go alone." This thing just doesn't sit right with me, and if the worst comes to happen a few explosions and wardrobe malfunctions in the enemy's direction can only help, right? 

* * *

Saturday afternoon. Johan and I meet up at Never Never Land, ES let us borrow the back room for a few minutes to change into our costumes before we leave out the back door under the cover of an illusion created by Century Color. Disguised as a pair of rough-looking teens, we go through a couple of alleys until Johan figures we're far enough away from the club. The illusion fades, and in the place of the gangers stands Johan and I in our guises as Century Color and Isolated.

My costume isn't much more that some old pieces of thick clothing with a generic mask on top, though Johan let me borrow a nightstick (that I haven't gotten to hit anyone with yet) and a shock-baton (which I prodded some thugs with on monday). Johan is wearing the same getup he wore when I was in the hospital: A Greyish green jacket with some colorful buttons on the front, jeans, and a plain white mask with a fedora on top of his head. He is also carrying a gun. Not sure where he got it.

The meeting place is a mostly empty street, just us and a few homeless people. No sign of anyone else. We're early, the time in the note said 14:00 and it is 13:49 right now.

Neither of us say anything as the minutes tick by, the two of us silently waiting under another illusion. Johan checks his watch after a time. "Five more minutes." He whispers. "If they're not here by then we're getting out of-"

As if waiting for their cue, two masked boys enter the street from an alleyway. One of them is wearing white pants and a white, frilled shirt with a black jacket completing the ensemble. The other is wearing a modified set of work clothes with a hood. Both of them are wearing generic masks. Johan pokes me in the shoulder and makes a 'hush' motion as he draws his gun.

The two boys are chatting with each other as they walk towards our hiding spot. Well, the one flipping a coin is talking at the boy in the hood as they scan the street. The hooded boy glances several times towards a pair of bums huddling underneath a blanket, why does he find them so interesting? Does he know about Johan's abilities and think they're us in disguise?

Johan tenses as they get closer, training his gun on the coin flipping boy when they come about ten-fifteen feet away-

The hooded boy's head snaps towards us, his arm following an instant later. "Century Color! Come out! I can sense you!" His finger is pointing straight at Johan, who drops the illusion and steps forward with his gun aimed at the hooded boy.

"I'm here. Who are you and do you want?"

The hooded boy, who is speaking with a bit of an accent (German, I think?) throws up his hands. You do not recognize me? Really." He holds out his hand to the coin flipper, who sighs amusedly and places some dollar bills in it. "Here's a reminder."

The hooded boy strides over to the shivering homeless people and squats down in front of them. "Excuse me." Before they have time to answer he stuffs the bills into the front of their tattered clothing.

And before they have time to thank him a pair of gloves, black ones that cover his arms up to the elbow and covered with greenish-gold plates of bone. Some of the plates have roses carved into them. The same instant they appear he lashes out as swift as a snake and grasps the faces of the two homeless people. The carved roses open further to reveal _fleshy_ eyes that tremble with ecstasy as the homeless men begin to _melt_, clothes and all, into a pair of formless masses that are quickly reshaped into something around each arm.

A sharp bang shakes me out of my horror, and I realize that Johan pulled the trigger of his revolver. Not that the bullet reaches the hooded boy. Something intercepts it before it has the chance to cross the street, hitting it and redirecting it so that it buries itself in the brick wall near the hooded boy. Something flickers in the air above us, falling until a golden pincer reaches out from the coin flipper's shoulder and catches it. It is a coin, severely warped from the impact with the bullet.

The coin flipper tsks as the golden pincer hands him the coin. "None of that."

The hooded boy has turned around at this point and is walking towards us. Back into my range, I note as I get a better look at the poor people he just killed. A pair of large machineguns, curiously enough held like nightsticks with the handguard and trigger being held in the bone gloves whilst the weapon itself being under the arm.

"_**Blumenkranz.**_" Johan hisses in recognition.

'Blumenkranz' nods at him. "JoJo."

If the first gunshot didn't frighten away any bystanders the second one probably did the trick. "Don't call me that." Johan growls as Blumenkranz deflects the bullet wth the back of his glove-Stand. "We're not friends."

Blumenkranz hesitates, sighing as he glances over at the coin-flipper. "Deal with the girl." The coin-flipper grins and flicks his wrists, his hands suddenly full of coins as he brings them to bear on me.

Oh shit.

I leap away from Johan as the coins shoot out of the coin flipper's hands and press myself against the building with only a few rifts in my borrowed coat. The barking of some kind of automatic weapon tells me that Blumenkranz is doing the same to Johan, who dances away from where he stood with a cry of "Century Color!". The faces of our opponents gain black bars over their eyes, but this does nothing to stop them from firing at us with unabated precision.

A second barrage of coins drives me into the alley, though only a few of them graze me. He stops firing for a second, giving me a moment to look for Johan. Blumenkranz is firing at him with both guns now, undeterred by his lack of vision. He doesn't hit Johan, though the guns are-of course! They are trying to get us away from each other!

Johan disappears into an alley on the other side of the street, the black bar over the coin-flipper's eyes fading as Johan stops focusing on it. He grins at me as he summons a new batch of coins into his hands. Oh goody. 

I can feel Isolated twitch on my back. It's time to fight! 

* * *

Johan ran down the alleyway, bullets fired by Blumenkranz' Standmade guns whistling over his head. That Churchill fucker was full of shit! His mind racing, he passed his pistol to Century Color after speeding around a corner. There had to be some way to beat Blumenkranz! He just needed to get out of his range!

And he knew exactly how to do it. 

* * *

Wilhelm, master of the Stand Blumenkranz, raced after his prey, firing his machineguns at the retreating back of Century Color's master. A stagnant ball of anger had been lying in his gut for two years now, and today was the day he would have vengeance! Johan Johansen would not escape him, not for as long as Blumenkranz could track his life force.

Not for lack of trying, mind. Wilhelm had to exert himself to keep Johan within his range. As long as he stayed close, then none of Johan's trickery would do him any good-

Just as Wilhelm was about to make a turn a bullet came down from above his head, ricocheting off one of his machineguns before burying itself into a full dumpster. The German Stand User let out an involuntary yelp as he reflexively reshaped the left machinegun into a suit of armor that reduced the impact of the second bullet to nothing but a bruise. A quick glance upwards told him everything: Johan had given his gun to his Stand!

A burst from his remaining machinegun chased Century Color off. Firing while running impairs accuracy at the best of times, so the bullets did little but force it to hide behind a nearby building. Wilhelm let it be and quickened his pace. He couldn't afford to be distracted, Johan was almost out of range! 

* * *

Johan cursed under his breath as he reloaded his revolver, dropping one of the bullets in the process. His Stand had handed it back after its failed attack on Wilhelm, being down to just two bullets in the cylinder. Five now, in Johan's mind there was no time to fumble around in his pocket for another bullet. Not with Wilhelm's Standmade LMG trained onto his back.

Hiding gun and costume behind an illusion, he weaved around a mound of snow-cowered trash bags and burst out into the street. A lot of people around, he mused as he ran past a line of idling trucks. Both good and bad. Hopefully nobody would get hurt as he executed his plan. 

* * *

Wilhelm tensely stepped out of the alley, having added the biomass of his second machinegun to his armor for added protection. He had managed to keep Johan in range, but with so many living things around keeping track of him was impossible. And Johan was always at his most dangerous when he could ambush his opponent. On the outside Wilhelm appeared to be wearing an extra thick coat, or perhaps a normal coat with a jacket underneath. Either way an outside observer would write him off as wearing a lot of padding, unaware that the outer layers of 'clothing' only needed Wilhelm's thoughts to transform into very large firearms.

Forcing himself to breathe normally, he scanned the crowd. Johan could be anywhere, anyone. How the hell was he supposed to track him?

…

Well, he could…

If the same outside observer who mistook Wilhelm's very padded coat for clothing were to look at him now they would see nothing but an overdressed teenager leaning on the side of a truck while scanning the crowd, probably up to no good. They would not be aware of the struggle within him. Johan had been a friend, and to give voice the words he was dwelling on…

He swallowed his disdain and, hesitating only an instant, shouted a phrase in German for the whole street to hear.

In response a matronly old woman walking past him popped into a momentary burst of colors, revealing Johan underneath. The Norwegian boy's arm snapped up too fast for Wilhelm's eyes to track the motion, too fast for anything resembling thought to be involved, and unloaded the gun into Wilhelm's chest. All five rounds slammed into his armor before he could react, sending him shambling backwards until he regained the presence of mind to leap behind the truck. Johan made no move to pursue, his blind anger making him ineffectually squeeze the trigger of his empty gun at the space where Wilhelm once stood as the crowd panicked and dispersed at the sound of gunshots.

Wilhelm dabbed carefully at the places where Johan had shot him. None of the bullets had penetrated through his armor, thank God, but the bruises alone sent sharp stabs of pain into his chest. This was bad, he hadn't expected Johan to be this close. Trying not to vomit as he forced his breathing under control, Wilhelm glared at the truck he was using as cover. He could only barely sense Johan thanks to the big ball of life in…side…?

The hell?

He turned around and took a few careful steps away from the truck, and the logo emblazoned upon the side of the container brought a smile to his face. 

* * *

On the other side of the truck Johan struggled to get his heart to stop jackhammering within his chest. He was _not_ crying. He swore to God, Maria and Jesus Christ that-that oh screw it.

He carefully backed away from the truck as he reloaded his gun. He didn't drop any of the bullets this time, and he soon had a full cylinder. Summoning Century Color to his side, he wondered what was taking Wilhelm so long-

The screech of tearing metal rang throughout the street, and a pair of familiar looking and terrified homeless men crawled with all haste away from where he assumed Wilhelm was. Johan sent his Stand, making it fly over the truck to see what was going on. If he remembered correctly Wilhelm couldn't detect Stands with Blumenkranz' power.

…Why did he tear a hole in the truck? 

An African Bull Elephant, even one as poorly fed as the one owned by Circus Fabiacchi, can easily weigh around five metric tons. This wealth of biomass was far too much for Blumenkranz' power to handle while carrying around even one of the transformed homeless men, so they were discarded in favor of the animal being transported in the truck.

Discarded in favor of the massive spider tank that ripped itself out of the truck, the metal of the container tearing like tissue paper when faced with one of its front legs. Its third pair of limbs ended in three-fingered hands with some kind of heavy machinegun poking out from the palms. 

Johan voiced his thoughts in the most appropriate way possible: "Oh, _cock_."

Thoughts racing, he fired a shot that bounced off the glass armoring the spider tank's cockpit before sprinting at full speed down the street. The tank needed a few moments to free itself, giving Johan enough time to get out of Blumenkranz' range. A quick recolor of Wilhelm's cornea from clear to black ensured that none of the scattered bullets came close to him, providing him with another few precious seconds to _think_.

!

After checking for an alley that still received some sunlight Johan's hands and Stand lashed out as he rushed past a hardware store, grabbing two backpacks, a roll of duct tape and a pair of thick work gloves. His heart was racing. His throat was sore. He only had five bullets left. And judging from the rapidly approaching stomping of Wilhelm's spider tank he was likely to die within the next minute unless his new plan worked.

_Hit it._

* * *

Wilhelm directed his tank after the presence that his Stand told him was Johan, firing sporadic rounds with his heavy machineguns as he stomped after his target. He still couldn't see a thing thanks to the power of Johan's Stand, but as long as he stayed within range it wouldn't matter!

You know, besides the occasional crash into a wall that he would otherwise have easily avoided. He reshaped the arms of his spider tank so that the barrels of his guns were better protected before he had one of them reach out and touch the wall making up one side of the alley. If he couldn't navigate by sight-was it just him or was it getting hot in here?

Aware that weird things during a fight were almost always the work of an enemy Stand, he wracked his brain for everything he knew about Johan's abilities. One: Either Johan or Century Color must see the target to affect it.

The spider tank shuddered as armored panels slid over the cockpit, obscuring Wilhelm from sight. His vision returned immediately as the broken line of sight freed him from Century Color's power, the internal lights within his cockpit helping him confirm that he had regained his ability to see. He opened a small window to his right as he took the spider tank around a corner, still pursuing Johan through the alleyways, and took a look outside. 

He was met with a blinding white light, and the color that his opponent's Stand had painted his spider tank confirmed what was going on: Johan's sunstroke special.

Sunstroke, also known as Heat Stroke, is a severe condition caused by severe environmental heat exposure. By of coloring his opponent the most light-drinking shade of black he could manage while coating everywhere that reflected light onto the target the purest white possible Johan can effectively inflict sunstroke on any target! The armor Wilhelm had thrown up around his cockpit prevented him from being affected directly, but his vehicle was still being heated up under Johan's assault. And if he opened a window to see where he was going then-

Just after turning a corner his tank came to a crashing halt as it collided with something. What happened? Johan ran through here with no trouble! A cold feeling settled in his gut as he felt Johan slip out of Blumenkranz' range. He had no choice. He had to look, even if only for an instant!

The frontal armor plating snapped open for a split second, but it was enough to catch a glimpse of Johan and the parked cars that Wilhelm's spider tank had crashed into. Jesus, how did he cross the street that fast? Jumping the cars he carefully tiptoed it around the screaming bystanders before resuming the chase. A manhole cover shot up as he drew closer. Century Color, wearing a backpack, handed Johan the second one before flying away. Whatever his opponent could be planning escaped Wilhelm, but the fact that he had gotten close enough to sense Johan's life spurred him further onwards! 

The chase continued through the alleys, Johan always staying _just_ far enough ahead that Wilhelm couldn't get a clear shot at him. As if he moved faster when the German boy wasn't-above!

A life rapidly approached him from above, though it messily ended when faced with a swipe from the claws of the spider tank's arms. The second life ended the same manner, prompting Wilhelm to risk another peek outside.

A second instant of vision revealed Century Color ready to throw a third rat at the tank. A distraction! Wilhelm fired a burst of machinegun rounds before getting back to chasing Johan. If he thought that a stupid play like that would best him then he had another thing coming! Two bullets from Century Color pinged off the armor surrounding the cockpit, but Wilhelm ignored it as another useless distraction. Just as useless as the rat that Johan himself tossed down another alleyway in an attempt to confuse him. 

The hunt ended when Johan slipped on a puddle of slush right after turning a corner, sliding into a pile of trash bags. By the time he had gotten to his feet he was staring down the barrel of one of the spider tank's heavy machineguns. Wilhelm opened the cockpit. Johan had been a friend, and the thought of killing him without looking him in the eye felt…wrong.

He still kept his finger on the trigger of course, gently squeezing it until he was a hairsbreadth from ripping Johan to shreds with a storm of fist-sized bullets. He almost did kill his former friend right then and there when he felt a life entering his range from above.

"Really, Johan? You're trying to pull-" Johan grinned at him as he took off the backpack and threw it aside, taking the life within with him? The Norwegian Stand User vanished completely from all of Wilhelm's senses right afterwards, right in time for Wilhelm to realize he had been had.

Right in time for the life from above to hit him. 

* * *

Johan grimaced as he felt his bones grind from the impact with Wilhelm. Turns out that jumping from a fire escape to kick someone beneath you really fucking hurts! His leg hit Wilhelm right in the shoulder, throwing him out of his spider tank and into a trash heap. Johan leapt after him and instant later with his revolver at the ready. He knew full well what happened to the beings that Blumenkranz transformed after the Stand no longer affected them. The bull elephant, freed from contact with Wilhelm's Stand, immediately returned to its proper shape. Panicking, it charged down the alley with no heed of any potential bystanders.

The impact from Johan's landing drove the air from Wilhelm's lungs, and the cold touch of his opponent's gun under his chin brought a certain amount of finality to the battle.

Were it not for the weapon being pressed into Johan's stomach. 

Blumenkranz' power is the power to change living matter into weaponry, and its master's body is no exception! As Johan landed on him, he had transformed his left arm into a sawn-off shotgun, snatching a stalemate from the jaws of defeat!

Neither of them made a move for several seconds, the two of them too busy panting from the toll the fighting had taken from them. Johan broke the silence. "What-" He drew another mouthful of air. "What now?"

"Two years ago-" Wheezed Wilhelm. "You-you broke my work and insulted me grievously." Johan felt a chill run down his spine as the boy underneath him coughed, threatening to make the shotgun in his hands go off. The realization and anger he felt at this revelation did little to ease it.

"Wait, you still hung up over that?" His flippant comment made the German boy poke him with the shotgun.

"Yes!"

Johan's mind raced as he struggled to find a solution to the stalemate that did not involve him being the latest name of the 'Dead Cape' list. It did not take long. 

"I'm sorry."

Wilhelm started. "What?"

"I'm sorry I tore up your flowers and I'm sorry I said that gardens, floral arrangements and the like can never be art." Johan could feel his face burn underneath his mask. "Can you forgive me?"

Wilhelm didn't answer immediately. Frozen, he stared at the former friend holding a gun underneath his chin. And then he reached a decision. 

"Alright."

The German boy dismissed his Stand and his left arm quickly flowed back to normal. Sighing in relief, Johan let himself sag before rolling of Blumenkranz. They glanced at each other as they lay side by side in frozen filth.

"We cool?" Johan mumbled.

Wilhelm began his response with what might have been a chuckle, or it might have been a sigh, at the circumstances that promised a new beginning to a friendship they had both thought lost. "Yeah. We cool. Sorry for- for saying that…back then. " 

* * *

They were leaning on each other when they exited the alley. Police cars and a PRT van were parked further down the street, accompanied by a distinctive motorcycle that Johan instantly recognized as Armsmaster's. A large tuck was present as well, its container open and ready to accept the unconscious elephant into its hold. Probably Armsmaster's doing, Johan reasoned as he and Wilhelm drew closer.

"Century Color." Armsmaster stated curtly, the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate visibly irritated at the sight of the Open Mic representative. "I assume you have a good explanation for this? Or at least an excuse that will prevent me from having you conscripted?"

"Open Mic business." Johan wheezed back. "I'll give you a detailed account later, after I've tracked down my associate and had a day of rest. Please forward any damage claims to me so I can discuss it with my superiors." The only thing he really wanted to focus on right now was to find Isolated and go to bed.

Armsmaster's disposition changed little, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a distant explosion.

Johan muttered a curse in his native Norwegian, trying to hide his panic. He'd stake the entirety of next month's stipend that Isolated was involved in that somehow. 

* * *

**AN**

**Stand Name:** Blumenkranz  
**Master:** Wilhelm von Stroheim  
Stats  
Destructive Power C-A  
Speed E  
Range E  
Durability A  
Precision C  
Developmental Potential C

**Abilities:**

**Die Welt Ist Seltsam:** Blumenkranz can change any biological matter it touches into any kind of weapon, provided there is enough material available. Only one weapon per glove may be made at any given time, though if there is too much material from a single source only a single weapon may be made. If a weapon is made from a living person's body parts the person will not be harmed by the loss, even if the heart, brain, or skeleton is taken. When this ability is released the organic matter making up the weapon will return to where it was taken from no worse for wear, no matter the distance traveled. Weapons created with this ability can harm Stands, but they themselves can be damaged or destroyed by non-Stand means.

**Du Flüsterst Mir:** Blumenkranz' master can sense living beings within a four-six meter radius.

Named after the song of the same name by **Cyua**

Next chapter is Taylor's fight with the coin-flipper and the aftermath.


	4. 3 Singer of Sixpence: Arthur

**JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

Chapter 3. Singer of Sixpence: Arthur.

A coin skids off my mask, no doubt bruising my forehead before it rockets into the wall behind me. It is soon joined by a barrage of others, shooting from the other Stand User's hands like fucking bullets. None of them really hit me, at least not until after they have bounced off something else first, but the point is that he is forcing me away from Johan!

I try to look around for something, _anything_, as I am pushed further into the alley, but I keep getting coins in my face when I try and he is staying out of the range of my shockwave! The fucker plays with me as his bombardment chases me further into the alley, the clinging chimes of the coins impacting the brick and concrete around us doing nothing to drown out the sounds of gunfire from where we left Johan with the hooded boy.

Gritting my teeth, I take note of the corner just a few short steps away before I throw my arms over my face and turn around. A few coins nick and smack into me as I face towards the coin-flipper, but that is a side issue at the moment: He might be out of range, but the coins are a different story!

"Isolated!"

My Stand lunges forward from her position of sticking out of my back, her bound forearms slamming into my back as she drives her head onto my shoulder. The shockwave that follows swats the coins flying towards me out of the air, leaving me alone in this space where only I can/should exist. And Isolated of course. But Isolated is me so really it is still just me-

The metallic chime of coins skidding across the walls shakes me out of it as the coin-flipper launches another handful at me. I blast them away with my shockwave, taking the opportunity to get closer. If I can get into range then I can…I don't know! Segregate his coins away or something! My shockwave deflects a third spray of coins, then a fourth after I take another few steps towards him.

He doesn't try to move away from me. He just stands there with his palms upturned as a pair of golden pincers click-clack above them, filling them up with more coins. He fires the first handful, which gets intercepted by my shockwave just as the first coin in about to hit me after bouncing off the- "Ah!"

I let out an involuntary cry of pain as I am pelted by the second handful of coins just as my shockwave fades. I try to let loose with another, but by then it is too late and all that happens is that- "Ow!" Is that I become a sitting duck for _another_ cloud of coins. My arms are reflexively covering my face again, I definitively do not want it to catch one or more coins. Stumble-skipping towards the corner, and safety, is bad enough.

A coin, fired much, _much_ faster than the ones before it, streaks across my coat, prompting a yelp as it buzzsaws a rift into the right sleeve while leaving everything underneath untouched. The impact still spins me around a little, giving me a clear view of the gleaming coin that bounces off the side of the alley before ricocheting towards a point between my eyes. On reflex I feel Isolated moving from her spot on my back, flowing through my body to interpose herself in the coin's way. If I wasn't fucking paralyzed I would have screamed at her: I feel whatever pain she feels. Johan had Century Color punch her in her in her padding covered face and it felt like being kicked in the jaw and I am really notcomfortablewiththethoughtofgoingthroughthatagain-

The coin bounces harmlessly away as Isolated headbutts it away from us. What.

Isolated foiling the attack on my face seems to have stunned the English coin-flipper. His surprise is my gain however, and I quickly force myself to regain my balance and shakily stumble around a corner before I begin to process what the hell just happened. The coin he fired bounced off isolated. _Bounced off_. That means-that means-

That the coins _aren't a Stand power_. They are just summoned and fired by one! The coins cannot harm Isolated!

My elation over this discovery is interrupted by a voice from the mouth of the alley: "So…you've figured out that my coins are just normal pieces of metal." That's what I think he is saying at least, his British accent is kinda thick. I move Isolated so that her eyes just barely peek around the corner. The coin flipper grins, obviously seeing my Stand's face, but he keeps going: "As you have realized, my **Loadsamoney** does not have the power to outright create coins. It can only summon them from someplace else and fire them away from me."

He trails off, giving me time to relax a bit and take stock of the situation. I'm too far away to make use of Isolated's powers against him, but now that I am around the corner he can't really hit me with his coinshots, especially now that I know that I can use Isolated as a shield.

"Of course, that is not its only ability. You will not be able to defend yourself against every coin…"

His Stand is a golden humanoid. Mechanical-looking with arms that end in shining pincers and a limbless golden crab with four eyes for a head. On top of the shell of the crab head is a widely grinning smiley face with dollar signs for eyes. It is about the same size as Century Color, but where Johan's Stand is slender the golden Crab Stand (Loadsamoney was it?) is _very_ well built-wait did he just say something?

I bring my focus back onto the master of the Crab Stand just as he finishes speaking, a single shiny coin pinched in between thumb and index finger.

"Y'know…**prob'ly!**"

Huh?

It all happens at once: Noises, a line of light, _something sliding across my forehead_-!

I was breathing in at the time I realized I've been hit, making me choke as my lungs expel the air in them thanks to the shock while my heart beats like a jackhammer in my chest. Time stops making sense it just happened so fast what do I d I-

I'm not sure how long I laid there gaping like a fish, but eventually I manage to force my right hand up to my forehead. I gently dab my fingers on the area I felt I was hit, a piece of my mask was torn off by what the hell just happened, but I'm not bleeding. Okay, what the fuck just happened? Think, Taylor, think!

…

Of course! The line of light was the coin he was holding before he shouted! The noises were the coin ricocheting off the walls! It just went so fast that neither Isolated nor I had time to register it!

I risk another peek, ready to wrap Isolated around me and fire off another shockwave if it looks like he'll fire another coin like that. How _did_ he get it to hit me around the corn…er…?

He is holding four coins in each hand by keeping them in the gaps between his fingers. His Stand holds a coin in each pincer. All of them ready to fly at me.

It happens almost too fast to see. Even now that I am expecting it the streaks of light, coins catching the light of the winter sun as they leap from wall to wall before tearing into me. I try to use Isolated and the shockwave, but the coins all have different paths. Only some are deflected, and most of those that aren't come from so many directions that Isolated cannot shield me from them all. One hits the same spot as the first one, tearing a small gash in my forehead. There are others, but they don't hurt as much.

And then it is over. Panic holds me still for a second, but when I regain control over myself I quickly make Isolated take another look. Another storm of the super-fast coins erupt from around the corner before she makes it-"Gah!" One of them is spinning from ricocheting off some piping and hits me in the jaw with the flat side. I-I think the tooth is cracked.

I-I-**I** need to get out of **HERE**!

* * *

His name is Arthur, master of the Stand Loadsamoney. He smiled awkwardly underneath his mask as the girl around the corner started to wail. Was he going too far? He was only supposed to hold her off while Blumenkranz dealt with Century Color…

Well, he _could_ put a little less power into the coins. If one of them bounced off her Stand at a wrong angle and hit her in the eye he might as well have shot her.

Summoning another eight coins, he swiftly took aim and-stopped himself. He blinked at the absurdity of what just happened around the corner. Had he fired like he planned not a single coin would have even grazed the girl, what gives? Could she fucking teleport?

The sound of distant gunfire, one-two-three-four-five before silence, shook him out of it. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he held out the coins and focused. If he fired this one like that and this one like that and this one like that and this one like that and this one-

The fifth coin would ricochet in a way that would hit her! The force about to launch the other seven in his hands instantly reoriented itself so that the coins would reach and drive her further away, though one thing still bothered him: How did she get that far down the alley without him noticing?

* * *

…

…How did I get here? I-I was like right by the corner and now I'm hallway down the alley and-fuck it. I can look the gift horse in the mouth later. I shakily get back onto my feet as a series of gunshots echo through the air and move towards the mouth of the alley, picking up speed as my legs get their strength back. I only get a few steps forward before I hear coins ricocheting behind me. They're far enough away now that I have time to react, Isolated's shockwave dealing with the really hard-hitting ones while I just let the others nick me.

A metallic tearing noise comes from several streets behind me just as I exit the alley and step into the street, must be Johan and the guy who ki-killed those homeless people. Speaking of people, there's a lot of them just standing around staring at the obvious cape shambling out of an alley in a ragged coat and a torn mask who is bleeding all over her face.

Now, he probably isn't going to fire into the-stop right there fuck that. "Get away! Run! Cape fight!"

Brockton Bay is a city with a lot of capes (and Stand Users. Sorry Johan), which in turn means that everyone is used to getting the hell away when people with powers are duking it out. The roar of heavy automatic fire in the distance behind me probably helps too.

As does the sound of another spray of coins that come screaming out of the alley. The shockwave and Isolated's body protect me a little, but one of the coins exploit the cooldown between shockwaves and the limited coverage Isolated offers and hits me on the inside of the knee, dropping me to the ground again as I turn to run in another direction than the crowd.

I'm getting really tired of this shit! There is a lull in the gunfire as I force myself back onto my feet. I ignore the possible reasons for the murderer fighting Johan to stop firing his guns, I have to deal with this guy first. But _how_?

A fire escape back in the alley I just emerged from catches my eye. That'll do.

I segregate the lock on the lower stairs away from the rest of it, letting it fall to the ground before charging up it. The gunfire starts up again, so Johan probably isn't dead.

A few coins hit me there and there, but between the cover of Isolated and the metal plus the shockwave they don't impair me as much as they could have. Though the last couple only bounced once or twice…I risk a glance behind me. Yup, there he is. Coming closer.

* * *

What is she doing? Arthur thought as he warily approached the fire escape while firing the occasional coin. Was she thinking of taking cover on the roof? It would make her harder to hit if he stayed down here, true, but the point wasn't to defeat her, just to keep her away…

He kept walking forward, firing the odd coin as encouragement for the girl to keep climbing upwards when it hit him: What if she was planning to enter the building? Or if there was a fire escape on the other side as well? If that was the case…

Another set of coins appeared in the hands of him and his Stand, ten in all and ready to fly at the slightest provocation. Provocation like climbing towards possible escape. Now, he was not a cruel person: When the girl's leg, the one he had hit with a coin minutes before, gave out under her he decided to hold fire. Not that he weakened the force with which he would launch the coins. He was not an idiot.

The girl was still trying to climb upwards with her arms and good leg, making a little progress before exhaustion and pain seemed to catch up with her. Panting and groaning she made no moves beyond making her Stand peek out of her back to stare at him as he took a few steps closer-

She leapt up to the next level of the fire escape in an explosion of movement, lunging up the last few steps to cling tightly to the railing. Her Stand began to twitch, and then it started to rain…_screws_?

The fire escape beneath the girl sagged, and Arthur knew he'd been had. As the small tower of metal loomed over him before coming crashing down he gritted his teeth, grabbed the lensless monocle necklace with his left hand while pointing straight at the avalanche of metal bearing down upon him with his right. If he hadn't been otherwise occupied, he might have noticed that the distant gunfire had ceased once again.

"Loadsamoney!"

His Stand, having sent the coins in its pincers back where it summoned them from, manifested in front of him. It batted the first chunk of metal away from its master as he forced his traitorous legs to take him away, then a second, then a third, speeding up as the moments went on and the metal kept coming until a piece of rusted railing glanced of Loadsamoney's armored forearm. It spun right into Arthur's shoulder, eliciting a crunching noise and a cry of pain. The loss of concentration in turn affected Loadsamoney, and the rest was **noise**.

* * *

Is-is he dead?

I crawl to the edge of the remains of the fire escape, careful not to throw my weight around too much now that it has lost pretty much everything underneath. The coin-flipper is partially buried under the metal, and _at least_ unconscious. But I can't tell if he is breathing or not.

Oh God I hope he isn't dead, or, if he is alive, that he didn't hit his head too hard. If-if I can get him to Panacea quickly he can be healed but she doesn't do brains and if he is dead then-

Parts of what is left of the fire escape around me _explode_, sending it and myself crashing down into the alley. The impact throws me out of the metal basket, slams the air out of my lungs and sends me rolling along the ground. I-I think I broke some my riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiibs! The thought doesn't stop, too much pain from my elbow breaking to think straight after using it to stop my roll. Sparks dance across my vision, even Isolated's as I use her eyes to look around. It is the coin-flipper! And he looks pissed.

His eyes are unfocused (I think. Hard to tell with that mask), his free arm is shaking, but that is definitively a coin that his Stand is pointing right at me. Through the haze of pain it hits me that this time there will be no trick shot, no nicking of my clothes, just a straight line that ends with me getting a new hole in my head.

So. This is it then. Hole in the head not even a month after getting my powers.

…

Fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that I'M NOT GONNA DIE!

The coin is fired. Isolated twitches. And all goes white.

* * *

Johan leapt out of the PRT truck, wobbling but being kept from falling on his face by Century Color. Wilhelm, who was still technically a prisoner, was right behind him. "Jesus." He breathed as he stepped past Armsmaster, who had gotten there before any others. "This place looks like it was hit by fucking artillery."

A closer look would have told Johan a story beyond the mess. Like the way the asphalt of the alley clearly showed where the explosions epicenter was, the cracked walls that still stood as a testament to the explosion's force, and the way a nearby fire escape have been tossed around like the toys of an angry toddler. But none of those were important to the two Stand Users. "T-Isolated!" "Loadsamoney!"

It didn't take long to find the two who had not even fifteen minutes before been fighting here, Armsmaster had taken the effort to drag them out of their respective heaps and to perform some basic checkups and first aid. The leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate had other plans for the two Stand Users still standing. "Century Color."

Johan ignored him as he looked over Taylor. She was unconscious, definitively some broken bones in her arm, but she seemed to be stable. He allowed himself to relax. Stand Users are tough, even without Panacea she would probably make a full recovery. He glanced over at Wilhelm's associate. 'Loadsamoney', was it? "Blumenkranz."

Wilhelm finished checking his partner before answering. "Yes?"

"How is he?" It was easy, Johan found, to fall back on old habits with his old friend.

"Going to be fine, though I still want to have his head checked by an actual doctor." Worse, but not too bad.

An irritated cough sounded behind him, and he realized that he had been ignoring someone. "Er. Yes Armsmaster?"

"I received a call from the Director on the way here. She wants to speak with you."

Johan blinked with the slow realization that his plan of finding Isolated and going to bed had been completely derailed. "If this is about the damage claims then I would be happy to take them to my superiors-"

"It is about your assailants." Armsmaster interrupted in a tone that suggested that his next words would include 'Master/Stranger Protocols'.

"Open Mic business." Johan spat out while keeping himself from screaming. Or snarling. "The issue has been dealt with and now is the time to clean up and figure out where we go from here." Armsmaster looked like he was going to say something, but Johan kept going. "As for your 'conscription' comment: You do realize that it would be a giant _fucking_ violation of our treaty right? Sorry if you don't like it, but neither of us are high up enough to even suggest renegotiating it."

He took several deep breaths as everything that had happened today began to catch up with the Norwegian boy. "Look, just-" Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by as round of wheezing, the anger having taken a lot of what strength Johan had left. "Let's just go to the hospital and drop off Isolated and the other one. Then I'll hear what the Director has to say."

Wilhelm walked up to his associate, manifesting Blumenkranz. "Excuse me, Armsmaster?"

The parahuman turned to look at the German Stand User. "Yes?" He gruffly answered.

"My Stand can transform living things into equipment. While this does not heal them, it does keep them in a kind of stasis. When I release my ability they will be exactly as when I first used my powers on them."

"Meaning that you can prevent them from getting worse." Armsmaster finished. "Century Color?"

Johan didn't need to ask him what he wanted to know. "He's telling the truth. The procedure is completely safe to go through." He hesitated for a second before adding that he would take full responsibility should Wilhelm try to escape or take hostages. Armsmaster eventually relented.

* * *

Ninety minutes later Johan gritted his teeth as his time in the PRT waiting room surpassed an hour. 'Ten minutes' Director Piggot said. 'We will discuss today's incident shortly' she said! But God forbid if he made them wait if a Stand User got on their nerves. 'Century Color! Century Color! Ultra/Pharoah Sanders/Drowning Pool did Bad Thing! Why weren't you in here apologizing five minutes before Bad Thing happened?! Wharglebargleglah!'. Bitch. If he hadn't brought his pens and his drawing book with him he would have gone insane.

As the one-hour delay became a two-hour one Johan decided he was sick of Piggot's shit. Still…he couldn't really just get up and walk away. Quicksilver said that it was important that he cooperate with the PRT in their territory, especially if he wanted to keep his job as Open Mic's representative in Brockton Bay. And if he started to just walk away from these meetings, then he would have to explain himself to _her_ superiors…

The way his pen had crossed the paper had gained a sharp undertone of frustration, rapidly scratching across the art paper as he silently grumbled over the situation. It quickly changed, slowing to a halt as the thought of disappointing Quicksilver's superior. Johan had _begged _him for this job, and to ruin his chance because the PRT Director here decided to be a bitch? Never. However…

Johan allowed himself a grin. That did not mean he couldn't have some fun with the second biggest pain in the neck this city had to offer. Oh, the joy of having a Stand that functioned just fine hundreds of meters away from you.

Century Color had invisibly stalked the building for the better part of an hour before it found the right room. Johan had exerted the effort to shrink his Stand down so it could fit through the vents, but it returned to its default size after slipping into the target's room. Beyond Johan's expectations, the target was fast asleep at their desk. Something must have tired the ass out.

With a grin that matched that of its master, who was happily drawing whatever came to mind several floors away, Century Color lent its eyes to find something appropriate.

Bingo.

The Stand floated into the connected bathroom, exiting back out seconds later. Imperceptible to non-Stand users, it brought the wickedly sharp razor blade to the target's face.

After an _extremely_ careful application of shaving cream.

Mission complete.

Floors below, Johan shook with barely restrained laughter. Eat it Armsmaster!

* * *

All in all, Johan had mixed feelings on this day. He and Taylor had taken (and dished out) a beating because of him being an asshole several years back and Director Piggot had _really_ let him hear it, but on the other he got a friend back and got the opportunity to fight back a little against the PRT's bullshit.

Ugh. Decisions, decisions. Did he really have to choose how to feel about things?

He glanced over at his phone. Quicksilver had also had some pointed things to say, but at least she was on Open Mic's side. Like hell they would let the PRT lay their dirty hands on Wilhelm and Loadsamoney.

As for tomorrow…

He swallowed. That would be up to Quicksilver.

* * *

I woke up in a hospital bed a few hours ago.

…

I really hope this isn't going to become a habit, but after a few minutes of trying to remember how I got there Johan came in and filled in the blanks.

Then he drops the bombshell that the two of us, the coin-flipper and Mr. Meltygloves are going to the PRT today with one of Johan's superiors.

"Why isn't he getting Birdcaged?"

Johan blinks at me from behind his mask. "Why isn't who being Birdcaged?"

Is he being deliberately dense? "The guy with the gloves! Why isn't he being Birdcaged?"

"_Why_ would he be Birdcaged? T-Isolated, what are you talking about?"

"He killed those homeless people! You _did_ see how they melted, right?"

"They're not dead." What?

The question must be written on my face, 'cause he keeps going. "Blumenkranz doesn't harm those it transforms. Once they were released they returned to their proper forms no worse for wear. Scared as fuck, yes, but otherwise unharmed."

Fine. But I still don't like it.

* * *

A PRT van is waiting for us outside the hospital. Johan is already in costume and the hospital let me keep my mask on. He also brought my spare coat, so that's nice.

Johan stops me when we get there much to the confusion of the PRT agents escorting us. "What's up?"

"We're not going in until Quicksilver gets-" His mouth shuts with a click as the sound of a distant engine fills the air. The sound seems to unnerve the PRT guys, who begin fingering their weapons as they try to figure out where it comes from. Come to think of it, it doesn't seem to be coming from anywhere in particular-

A bus, a big one painted bright red, just fucking appears at full speed from around a corner and stops on a dime in front of us. The PRT guys have drawn their guns, some of them already have their hands at their radios when Johan speaks up. "Calm down! He's just being a jerk about it."

The officer looks pissed, but the rear door of the bus opens before he can say something back. Behind the door stands a tall woman in a nice-looking blouse, a leather jacket and a skirt that reaches her ankles. She also has one of those Middle-Eastern hoods that women wear, but the veil has been replaced with a generic mask. She also has a small _cannon _strapped to her arm. It looks like it is made out of silver with blue decorations.

Johan is the first to react as she steps out of the bus. "Ma'am."

She, obviously Johan's superior, nods at him in acknowledgement. "Century Color." She glances over at me. "You must be Isolated."

I just nod nervously, making her chuckle kindly.

"I am Quicksilver. Century Color is my subordinate." Introductions done with, she addresses the PRT agents. "I trust the other two are inside?"

"Yes ma'am."

Quicksilver nods curtly. "Good. Shall we go in?"

"What, you're _friends_ now?" I didn't mean to say it! Really! It-it…It just came out when Johan hugged Meltygloves!

"Er…" At least he doesn't seem angry, neither does the German guy. "Yes?"

"Is she new?" Asks the coin-flipper.

Johan shrugs. "Yup."

"Century Color." Quicksilver sighs exasperatedly, as if he has seriously disappointed her.

"Hey, I wanted to ease her into how we do things alright?" Johan replies defensively. "But _somebody_ had to come and mess things up!"

Meltygloves refuses to take the bait. "Can we talk about this later? We're here."

Everyone except he and Quicksilver freeze before we turn our gaze towards whatever's in front of us. Which turns out to be Battery and Miss Militia standing in front of a door. Huh, I guess we are.

* * *

Director Piggot, the woman in charge of the Brockton Bay PRT, is kinda scary. She also _really _doesn't like us. Stand Users I mean. Still, after some discussion with Quicksilver it looks like she isn't going to drop the hammer on us.

Speaking of Quicksilver, she begins listing out fates: "Blumenkranz and Loadsamoney will come with me for disciplinary action, most likely punishment assignments. Century Color will report to Rome tomorrow for our own hearing about this incident, with the possibility of being stripped of his position here." She stops for a second when it is my turn. "Isolated is not a member of Open Mic, and we agree that her involvement in yesterday's events were against her will?"

Director Piggot forces a nod, though Quicksilver accepts it without comment.

"Good. Isolated?" I start, surprised at being addressed directly.

"Y-yes ma'am?"

"You are not a member of Open Mic, but your time as the partner of an Open Mic member is not yet done. We are however willing to consider it done if you want nothing to do with us after what has happened."

"Er…"

I don't get to finish. "Should you accept you will not be forced into Open Mic. You will just remain Johan's partner should he retain his position here in Brockton Bay, or become the partner of his replacement should he not."

I look over at Director Piggot. Those are my options aren't they? Open Mic, Piggot or just going around on my own.

"I…" I call on Isolated, who flows out of my chest so I can hug her. "I think I will stick with you. At least until my time is…up."

Johan (I think. Too scared to look.) lets loose the breath he was holding and Quicksilver seems pleased. Director Piggot is just as stone-faced as before however.

"That settles that." Quicksilver says. "As Century Color no doubt has told you Open Mic will accept and cover all damage claims. Will that be satisfactory?"

"No." Well fuck you too Piggy. She said it like she didn't even need to think about it! She glances in my direction, making me struggle to keep myself from letting an 'Eep' slip from my lips. She can't read minds, can she? "It is _not_ 'satisfactory', but my hands are tied."

She lets loose a disgusted noise. "Was there anything else?"

There isn't, and the four of us file out after Quicksilver as Battery shows us the way out. Blumenkranz and Loadsamoney go with Quicksilver after she summons the bus she came here with. Johan and I just take the boat back to the city before going our separate ways.

Gonna have to remember to catch him tomorrow before he leaves. Might be the last time we see each other.

* * *

"You didn't have to come." Johan mumbles as we walk around looking for somewhere secluded to summon the bus. "But…thanks."

"You're welcome." I mumble back. We're both in costume, even on an early Sunday morning.

We eventually find a mostly deserted street with no traffic around that a big red bus popping out of nowhere can disrupt.

Johan eventually coughs and steps forward before he begins to chant. "Boys of Summer! This is Century Color!"

I want to…say something I guess. He's been, not bad to be around and we might never meet again…

"Official Open Mic stuff! I need a ride to Rome!"

The roar of an engine sounds in the distance. Not from any particular direction, just…in the distance. I swallow before taking the leap. "Johan?"

He starts a little, though whether from my voice or from the big red bus that erupts from behind a streetlight I cannot tell, before he turns to me. "Yes?" Century Color, manifested as always, lazily orbits him so that it can get a good look at me.

I try to smile at him, though it is kind of a waste with the mask and all. "Good luck."

We're both wearing masks, but I can sorta guess his expression by looking at Century Color. He is a little surprised at first, but then his Stand starts to smile. It is nothing like the vapid grins or silent laughing I usually see from it. It is something…more. I guess.

"Thanks…Taylor."

The bus stops right beside us and Johan steps on board. We wave at each other as it begins to drive away, and then it turns around a traffic light and they are gone.

That's that then. Let's hope for the best.

Fuck I want to beat someone up right now.

I end up just heading home. Finding an asshole and beating them up just isn't the same when you are alone. Dad isn't home yet, some Union thing that keeps him away on a Sunday. God, this sucks.

After fumbling for the remote I turn on the TV. Dad must have left it on the news, for the face of the same old host with a picture of some guy in a robe behind him greets me.

_"And in other news: Cardinal Enrico Pucci released a statement earlier today-"_

**To Be Continued**

* * *

**AN**

**Stand Name: Loadsamoney  
Master: **Arthur Edward-Harry English**  
Stats  
**Destructive Power B  
Speed B  
Range C  
Durability A  
Precision A  
Developmental Potential C

**Abilities:**

…**Prob'ly: **Loadsamoney gives its master the power of precognition regarding their money. This ability does not take Stands or their powers into consideration.

**Wop It Out**: Loadsamoney's master can teleport any amount of their own money into their hands from any distance. Money teleported in this fashion will be automatically exchanged into the appropriate currency.

**Song of Sixpence: **Valuables in Loadsamoney's pincers or the hands of its master may be fired from them at great speeds. While Arthur prefers coins, any kind of valuable will do, whether his own or those that belong to somebody else.

Named after the song of the same name by the comedian **Harry Enfield**

/*

**Stand Name: Quicksilver.**  
**Master**: Qadira Bint Hol  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power A  
Speed E  
Range A  
Durability C  
Precision C  
Developmental Potential B

**Abilities:**

**Object Stand: **Quicksilver is a cannon that manifests on the User's arm. It has no mind or personality of its own and is completely desynchronized with its master, sharing no damage or sensory data with them.

**Quicksilver:** Quicksilver can use its ammunition to fire several kinds of beams, blasts, shockwaves, kinetics and more esoteric projectiles. The power of a shot varies, but more powerful projectiles consume more ammunition.

**Solid Silver:** Quicksilver requires ammunition to use its abilities. The cannon is reloaded by muzzle-feeding it metal. Ammunition does not disappear should Quicksilver demanifest. It can also consume minerals from living beings to use as ammunition, though this requires the Stand to be used as a close combat weapon and can cause fatal injuries on the victim.

Named after the band **Quicksilver Messenger Service**. It is also a Stand that can be gained by the Player Character in the free fangame **The 7th Stand User.**

/*

**Stand Name: Boys of Summer.**  
**Master**: Ralph Rifle  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power C-A  
Speed B  
Range A  
Durability C-A  
Precision C  
Developmental Potential E

**Abilities:**

**Empty Streets:** Boys of Summer can teleport to and fro places that no one is currently observing. Gradual teleportation is possible as well.

**Radio on:** If Boys of Summer is manifested and its master is driving it the radio will signal the master if a Stand User wants to hitch a ride with him.

**Mode Change: **Boys of Summer can transform into any non-tinkertech vehicle.

**Object Stand:** Boys of Summer is always a vehicle and has no mind or personality of its own. As such it shares no damage or sensory data with its master.

**Physical Stand:** Boys of Summer is visible and tangible to non-stand users when manifested.

Named after the song of the same name by **Don Henley**

Next up is the first interlude.


	5. Interlude 1

**Interlude 1.**

Rome, the Eternal City. The capital of Italy and the home of the Catholic Church.

In a church not too far from the Basilica of St. Peter a man, clad in the iconic vestments of his position, was finishing up after a sermon. His name was Pucci. Enrico Pucci. Cardinal Priest of the Catholic Church and Master of the Stand Whitesnake.

He had a reputation for spending late hours looking through whatever church he had preached in, and as such none of the flock or the staff were present to see it when a man stepped out of the shadows to approach the praying Cardinal.

"Sir."

Pucci did not answer until he had finished quietly reciting the psalm. "Yes, Holy Diver?"

Holy Diver motioned to the side, towards the corridor that led to one of the church's side entrances. "They are here. Also: You asked me to remind you that you have a meeting with the other three in…" The other Stand User checked his watch. "Ninety-seven minutes."

Pucci rose to his feet and walked over to the closest bench, seating himself as he motioned for Holy Diver to let them in. The two who had come to see him entered the church not even a minute later. His subordinate, the older one walked straight up to him while her own subordinate waited right inside the door. She didn't wear a mask, revealing the Arabic features underneath, and neither did her subordinate. Few bothered with masks here in the heart of Open Mic.

She pointed over at the younger Stand User waiting behind her. "Sir," She said whilst warily looking Holy Diver up and down. "I've brought him here for the-"

"I can see that." Pucci interrupted good-naturedly. Said good nature quickly disappeared. "Now leave us. Both of you."

Her eyes widened, but a raised eyebrow and Holy Diver's quick withdrawal cut her off. She looked from him to her subordinate with a mixture of suspicion and worry, but did nothing but nod before turning on her heel and walking out the way she came.

And then the boy stood alone by the door, nervously looking after his superior.

Pucci waved him over and the boy hurried to obey.

He smiled at the younger Stand User while patting the bench beside him. "Please, take a seat." The boy swallowed, his hands tightening on the hat he held, but made no move to disobey.

"A-about the incident-"

"Yes. I've read your superior's report." Pucci kept his tone even, mixing sternness and kindness to keep the boy under his spell. "But I want to hear it from you."

It took some coaxing, some appeals to the boy's admiration for him, but eventually Pucci got the boy started on the story. The seeds planted years ago, the encounter, the fight and the aftermath. As the boy finished the Cardinal laid his hand on the boy's leg.

"_S-sir_!?" The boy squeaked as he seemed to shrink in on himself, looking up with wide eyes into Pucci's own.

Pucci smiled gently at him and withdrew his hand. The overture was as feigned as the smile, and he was reasonably certain that the boy's preferences did not lie in that direction, just another step in the plan. "Think nothing of it."

The boy was still doing his best impression of a deer in the highlights when Pucci continued, a spectrum of emotions ranging from confusion to fear to interest and then back to confusion again. "I have made my decision."

The younger Stand User sat up straighter.

"No punishment will be necessary." Pucci's smile widened in genuine amusement as the boy deflated in relief. Now to bind him even closer. "I also have something for you."

The boy blinked at him. "What is it?"

Pucci kept his smile as he reached into his robes and deposited a metal disk into the boy's lap. It was useless to him.

It wasn't that the Stand on the Disk rejected anyone (it had yet to reject _anyone_ these past four years that Pucci had it in his possession), but it always rendered itself completely useless. It would without fail change to better suit its new Master, always becoming a much weaker Stand in the process. Some were easily a match for some of the most powerful members of Open Mic, but compared to the original they were all worthless.

The boy's eyes boggled, as if he couldn't believe what he was holding. "You…you are giving this to me?"

Pucci smiled at him. "Of course. I know it is important to you." It wasn't that he hadn't thought of forcing the boy to take the Stand for himself, but he had dismissed the plan as stupid. Even if the Stand held within the Disk retained its original powers Pucci would still lose his pawn, allowing years of work to go to waste.

Something slammed into his chest. Only his reflexes and presence of mind prevented Whitesnake from taking the boy's head of as he cried into Pucci's robe, babbling 'Thank you's' and muffled praises.

It was a revolting sight.

Still, he forced himself to bring an arm around the boy while the other stroked his hair. "There, there. I know it is important to you. I must thank you for letting me keep it for so long."

They stayed like that for a while until the boy had calmed down. They said their farewells, and the boy giddily skipped out of the church.

His Stand, however, had been silently snarling at Pucci when its Master couldn't see.

Pucci remained in the church for a while before it was time to leave. He calmly strode out of the building and into a plain car that had mere minutes before parked itself around the church's doors.

* * *

Underneath Rome there are catacombs that date back to the first few centuries after the birth of Christ. While primarily known for their role in allowing the early Christians to bury their dead, they have after centuries of excavation, loss, decay and rediscovery been replicated by the current rulers of the City. A vast complex has over the past decade been constructed beneath and above ground, like the hand of a giant whose fingers have broken through the foundations of the city. Those who occupy this complex or belong to the organization that owns it call it 'Lucky Land'.

To the rest of the world it is simply known as the headquarters of the 'Parahuman' organization Open Mic.

The car drove into a parking garage, one that from the outside seemed no different from the dozens of its kind that could be found around Rome. It brought its passenger down beneath the streets, passing through a gate and into a private floor away from prying eyes. The Cardinal stepped out and, after making sure that nobody else was there to see, waited.

A hole opened in the air after a minute. First as a line of light before rapidly snapping open, as if a knife was poking holes in a stretched out piece of rubber. A corridor waited on the other side, along with the hole's creator, the Stand User Mackie Messer, and Holy Diver. Pucci checked his watch. Right on time.

One easy step took Pucci through the portal and inside Lucky Land, and with the next he strode down the corridor. Holy Diver sped up to keep pace, walking to his right and whispering news into Pucci's ear.

"Star Platinum and Gold Experience have already arrived, no sign of-" His subordinate cut himself off as a lower-ranked Stand User, one not cleared to know what he was being told, passed them by with files in hand and her Stand demanifested. By the time she was out of earshot Pucci had reached the door. It was flanked by Stand Users, there to prevent anyone from getting ideas of listening in, not to provide protection for those within as one might assume.

As if they had the ability to harm anything that could harm the occupants of said room when they were working together.

One of the guards opened the door for him. Holy Diver remained outside as Pucci walked down a short corridor before entering a second door at the end. The room on the other side was sparsely decorated, a table with four chairs taking up the center. Two of the chairs were occupied.

Pucci sat down and eyes the other two men at the table. Himself, Star Platinum and Gold Experience. Three of the most powerful Stand Users alive and three of the four Kings of Open Mic. Speaking of…"Where is-"

"She is working with the excavation team in Brazil." Jotaro Kujo, also known by the name of his Stand, Star Platinum, stated. "We've secured The Arrow."

"Oh?" Pucci replied as he brought what he knew to the forefront of his mind. "Another one? That would make it…sixteen now?"

"Not one of those Arrows, Whitesnake." Giorno Giovanna, also known by the name of his Stand, Gold Experience, explained as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "_The_ Arrow."

Pucci's mouth closed with a sharp click. "We found it?"

Gold Experience nodded. "Yes, but it seems dormant." He gestured towards the empty seat. "She had a volunteer picked out by Shiver My Timbers cut himself on it. No effect." None of them entertained the idea of it being a fake Arrow that had been found. No Stand User who had seen an Arrow with their own eyes could make such a mistake.

And the Arrow of the True Queen was far more than the _toys_ that Open Mic so jealously hoarded.

* * *

Director Piggot was glaring. This was normal for her, but the glare directed at the three young men in front of her was unusual in its intensity. "What. Are _you three_. Doing here?" Armsmaster was standing to the side, adding his own glare to the onslaught as he involuntarily rubbed the stubble on his chin.

"Simple, Director." Replied Century Color in a chipper tone that matched the way he had positively skipped into her office. "I am here because my superiors felt that I acted in a manner befitting my position and that I should therefore retain it. Though I am under additional scrutiny following your complaints."

The way he was not making the slightest effort to disguise how pleased he was with this decision made the Director clench her fists under the table.

Century Color continued as he gestured to the other two. "As for Blumenkranz and Loadsamoney-"

"I was under the impression," Armsmaster interrupted. "That those two were to be assigned punishment duties."

"They _have_." Century Color insisted, his mood unscathed by Armsmaster's bluntness. "They are to work with me here in Brockton Bay. That's punishment."

Piggot squashed the part of her that agreed with him and sighed internally. Would nobody rid her of these idiot thugs?

* * *

**AN**

**Interludes do not provide Stand Data.**


	6. 4 Make a Wish and Couch Potato Part 1

**JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

**Chapter 4. Make a Wish and Couch Potato Part 1.**

Right! There is both good and bad news for me today. Good news is that Johan is back. Bad news is that so are the other two.

"Johan?"

He turns away from Meltygloves, the guy who was trying to kill him just last week, breaking off their conversation in the other guy's language with a quick "_Moment, bitte._" before he answers me. "Yes?"

"Why are these two here?"

"Open Mic didn't really see the need to punish me, or them, but officially I am on thin ice and these two are on punishment duties here under my supervision." He shrugs. "In reality I got off with a warning not to push the local authorities too far and these two are being 'punished' here because I asked if I could bring them."

How does he not get it!? "I mean why would you ask for them to come here? They. Tried. To. Kill us!"

Johan opens his mouth to argue, but the German boy cuts him off. "_Mein Gott_, Johan! Have you still not told her these things?"

"I've been trying to ease her into things!" The Norwegian boy snaps. "She's only been one of us for less than three weeks! Also: Language!"

An unfamiliar voice interjects. "Um…excuse me?" Johan and the German boy stop their argument, the two of them turning their eyes to the newcomer: A (cute) Mexican boy, maybe a little older than us is standing on the sidewalk with us, his arms full with an old TV. Judging by the van and the way the door to the apartment building we're standing in front of, he is probably moving in here. The sad fool.

"Yes?" Replies Johan.

The Mexican boy looks down at the ground between us. "Could you please pick up the remote? It is on the ground there."

We follow the guy's eyes. Yup, that is definitively a remote. Didn't know old TVs like that even had remote controllers.

"Sure." Johan mumbles. He crouches down and picks the thing up before placing it on top of the old TV. He mumbles a quick 'You're welcome' after the Mexican boy thanks him, distantly gazing up at the apartment building.

…

How long is he going to do that? "Johan? Hello? My explanation?"

That shakes him out of it. "Hm? Right, right. Look, we Stand Users aren't the most usual people. Most conflicts between Stand Users are violent ones, but as long as nobody gets seriously hurt we usually manage to end it there, see?"

"No. I repeat: They tried to kill us!"

"Oi!" Complains the Coin-flipper. "You did hurt yourself than I did, birdie. What with that explosion you magicked up at the end there." He fingers the empty monocle hanging from the string around his neck. "Name's Arthur, by 'n by."

Okay, fine. That is technically true. I'm still not sure what I actually did to that coin to make it explode, but like he said I did get caught in the blast.

The german boy who started this mess isn't as straightforward as the English-Arthur. His name is Arthur. "I'm…Wilhelm. Sorry for dragging you into things." Does he really think an apology will just make everything fine and dandy?

"Taylor." Johan pleads. "None of us got seriously hurt and me and Wilhelm are friends again. _Please_ trust me on this one."

…

Ugh. Fine. If I have to I can live with them being here. "I still don't like it."

Johan stops walking. He looks at me all depressed and says- "Taylor, before Open Mic, what do you think the leading cause of death among Stand Users was?"

…What am I even supposed to say to that? "I don't know?"

"The first other Stand User they met."

Oh.

"Thing is," he continues. "Stand Users, even the most heroic of us, are more or less violent assholes who live on the fringes of society. All of us are bound and drawn together by Fate, and since Stand Users all have some sort of forceful personality their encounters often end in violence."

I point at myself: Meek, lean beanpole Taylor. "Forceful personality?"

He laughs a little. "You have noticed it, haven't you? Violence is starting to come to you naturally."

…

He isn't wrong. Kicking Empire thugs while they are down until my toes start hurting is incredibly cathartic which now that I am thinking logically about it is kinda scary ohmigod what kind of person am I becoming- "Aaaaarrrrghhh!"

"Er…"

I snap my mouth shut once I realize what I am doing. Johan is staring at me. The other two are staring at me. _The whole goddamn street is staring at me_. "The fuck are you looking at!?" I growl in the direction of the largest group on onlookers before I scan the street to make the other assholes get the fucking idea. "This ain't a show!"

…Oh God I just screamed at a crowd they're gonna take pictures of the crazy girl and show them around at school and Dad will find out and-

A hand grabs my shoulder and quietly shoves me further down the street. I glance down to take in the multicolored fingers of Century Color. Its master and the other two are walking casually a step behind me.

"Don't worry." Johan whispers through his Stand. "I was altering our faces, nobody will recognize us if they see the pictures." I quickly mumble a thank you back at him.

***/*/**

"As I was saying." Johan continues after we have escaped. "The aggression and violent tendencies endemic in Stand Users caused to a lot of conflict an unnecessary death as Stand Users formed up behind the ones with the strongest Fates, followed by groups led by such Stand Users waging war on each other. That's where Open Mic came in-"

He stops. Seriously, one second he is walking and talking with Century Color helping him steer around shit you don't want to step in and the next he is standing still like a statue. It kinda looks like he is gaping at something...

I take a couple of steps forward to check what the hell is going on. A look around the corner reveals…

It is a man(?) almost completely wrapped up in a white cloth, only the smooth grey-purple rock of his(?) jaw visible, sitting behind a wooden stand. The stand is obviously homemade, the ramshackle construction barely standing upright. There is a sign on the front of the stall, not sure is it is leaning on it or helping with holding it up, that reads 'Make a Wish's discount teleports'.

All this, just-just sitting there on the sidewalk.

The man(?) perks up when he sees us. "Excuse me!" he exclaims in a pleasant, if kinda gravely, voice as he points straight at Century Color. "Would you happen to be-"

Johan's multicolored Stand rushes forward to place a hand along the featureless expanse of face. "Now," He says, his power giving him the appearance of being in costume. "You can't just go around yelling shit like that. Secret identities are a thing you know."

I and the others hurry to put on our masks, even if we are hidden under an illusion it is a good idea to put them on. Is the man(?) a Stand User?

After the man(?) slowly nods in response to Johan's admonishment Century Color takes its hand off his(?) face. "I am terribly sorry, sir. My name is Make a Wish, I am what is called a Stand."

"Century Color, Open Mic Liaison to Brockton Bay." Johan smoothly replies. "I am the one who argues with the local authorities on behalf of Stand Users."

He looks Make a Wish up and down. "So, are you a Long Range Stand? Automatic?"

Make a Wish hesitates before it answers. "Um…I do not know those terms, sir. I do know that I do not need my User to give me commands to act, and I do not seem to weaken with distance from him. I think I need him to be alive if I am to continue living myself, however."

"Huh." Johan sounds genuinely interested. "Semi-independent then. That's rare."

"Thank you!" I stifle a giggle as Make a Wish preens behind his makeshift stall.

"Why's your robe wet?"

Huh?

I turn around. Arthur is standing off to the side of Make a Wish's stall, glaring at what I assume to be the Stand's feet. "What are you talking about?"

He waves me over, Loadsamoney mirroring the motion. "Look 'ere birdie. 'Is robe's all wet. It shouldn't do that if he's a Stand should it now?"

Johan doesn't move, instead staring Make a Wish down as Wilhelm and Century Color joins me as we walk (and hover) over to where Arthur is standing. Just like he said, the bottom of Make a Wish's robe has been soaked by the filthy slush beneath our feet. Now that the stall isn't in the way I can see that it is sitting on what looks like one of those plastic crates you keep plastic soda bottles in. It is also barefoot.

Arthur leans on the stall. "Well? Care to explain why your robe is wet?"

"That is because it is not a part of my body sir."

…

Okay, nobody's saying anything. Should I laugh? Should I be angry? Should-

"You see, when I first looked into a mirror I became aware that I was dressed in little but some rather embarrassing undergarments, so I took this sheet from my User's home and made a robe out of it."

…

I don't think any of us quite know what to say to-

Johan is the one that breaks the silence. "Don't be ashamed of yourself."

I look over at him. He is smiling. Smiling and backing away. Why did he change the illusion so that the mask doesn't cover the lower part of his face?

Wilhelm and Arthur shrug and move over to stand beside him, Arthur on his left and Wilhelm on his right. After a couple of seconds Century Color shoves me over to Wilhelm's right.

Johan turns so that his left side his facing Make a Wish. His right hand reaches up to pull the brim of his illusory hat over his eyes while his left arm rises to point straight at the strange Stand. One of his legs rises up as if he was placing the sole of his foot on the wall behind him.

Arthur turns to that his right side faces Make a Wish before he throws out his arms, leaning back and thrusting out his hips as he turns his torso so that he is facing the stall. Wilhelm simply squats down on his haunches, facing the stall, before he extends his left leg to the side. He then manifests Blumenkranz and holds one of the creepy gloves in front of his face so that his eyes peek out from behind the splayed fingers.

"Don't be ashamed of yourself." Johan repeats. "For as the Adage of Open Mic, which all Stand Users should strive to live by, says:"

Hey, I actually know that one! It was-

All three of them yell it at once. "Stand Out! Stand Tall. Stand…Proud…" But why did it peter off like that?

And why are they staring at me?

Wilhelm looks over his shoulder at me. "Isolated, why aren't you posing?"

"What?"

Arthur rights himself and slaps the back of Johan's head. "Jesus Christ, man!" Johan doesn't even try defending himself.

"Language, but yes. I have no excuses for this one." He looks over at me. "Isolated?"

"Yes?"

"When you feel the impulse to just move a certain way, don't think about. Just move. Anybody who laughs at your pose can just go fuck themselves."

I stop myself from asking how anybody is supposed to take me seriously. "Yeah. Got it."

Johan nods at me before he walks over to Make a Wish. "That didn't go as well as I thought it would." He admits sheepishly as he leans on the stall, which creaks dangerously underneath the weight. "But do you mind following me in there?" I follow Johan's finger to a nearby alleyway. "We have to discuss a few things about you and the business you are running here."

The two of them enter the alley, leaving us behind to loiter by the stall.

* * *

"Right then." Johan said after making sure that he and the odd Stand were alone in the filthy alleyway. "Are you sure you can't tell me who your user is?"

"Absolutely, sir. My User is not in good health and has no idea that I am here or what I am doing. I would hate to endanger him."

The young operative shrugged. "Alright. Since you are Independent I guess I can accept that, but why are you raising money in the first place?"

Make a wish didn't answer at first. It glanced around, teleported to the corners to peek around them and checked the garbage cans before reappearing back at Johan's side. "Can I trust you to keep this between us, sir?"

Johan held up his hands in what he hoped was a placating fashion. "Don't worry. Nobody will hear any details from me. I just need to know if I can vouch for you or not. You charging money for teleporting will be a lot easier if the PRT thinks you can be trusted."

The Stand looked over its shoulder again before it leant in to whisper some hushed yet hurried sentences into Johan's ear. Then it was the Norwegian boy's turn to be silent for a while.

"…I see." That was a decent cause to raise money for. "Right, I think I can work something out with the PRT-wait!" Johan looked Make a Wish up and down. "Is your teleport dangerous to the people being teleported? Can you use it offensively?"

Make a Wish shook its head. "As far as I can tell there are no negative effects on the people and objects I have teleported, sir. And no, I cannot teleport into or teleport other things into solid objects. If I try the lighter object is pushed out of the space they both would occupy. If there isn't enough space it just doesn't work."

"Really? No teleport cutting?"

"It has to be all or nothing, sir. However, I do have to touch it to take it with me."

Johan hesitated, his breath forming small clouds in the winter air. "Alright. Can you meet me by the PRT building tomorrow? I'll do what I can to help you with getting registered and all the legal stuff."

Make a Wish titled its head, emanating a friendly energy. "I set my own hours, sir. It should be no problem."

* * *

With that over with Johan drags us to the Boardwalk. Apparently there is some kind of burger place at the outskirts here that he really likes. Wilhelm and Arthur just ate at Fugly Bob's before their fight with us, so they aren't complaining. At least the weather is nice. A clear sky is very unlike normal late January day here in Brockton Bay.

"Right. Now that that's done over with I can continue. We're almost there anyway." He hesitates, but doesn't stop walking. "Er, where was I?"

I wrack my brain for the answer but Wilhelm remembers before I do. "You were about to begin telling us how Open Mic started out."

Johan snaps his fingers. "Right! That. See, back then there were a ton of scattered gangs, mafias, hero teams, etcetera that were made up of Stand Users. Heck, Gold Experience, one of the Four Kings, used to be the leader of Italy's underworld before he started running it officially."

And there went my hope that the leaders of Open Mic were free of villains. Johan must have noticed, because he quickly follows up with. "Star Platinum and Whitesnake are heroes and always were, if that makes you feel better. Anywho, those three and a bunch of others basically invited every Stand User on the planet to attend a gathering in Italy."

I try to pay attention as he starts listing all the people of interest who came as well as trivia about them, but I sorta kinda lose him when he starts rambling about this Arabic group of Stand Users because every other word he uses in in a language I don't understand and-

A hand falls on my shoulder. "Please forgive him." Mumbles Wilhelm in my ear before he lets his hand fall to his side. "He is a true believer, and it doesn't always occur to him that not all of us is as enthusiastic about Open Mic as he is."

Johan doesn't seem to have noticed us. "-the negotiations weren't going so well so somebody suggested-"

"I realized." I whisper back at him before I look over my shoulder to check what Arthur is doing. He doesn't seem to be listening either, too busy looking behind him I guess. Wonder what's up with that.

Wilhelm snorts. "The language thing though…that is just him showing off." He whispers as if to himself.

"-so Gold Experience started giving intel to the various groups. Intel gradually became requests, and requests gradually became orders. This- Hey, we're here!" Johan increases his pace, making the rest of us hurry to catch up with him. He stops outside what looks like a mom and pop kind of place.

Johan turns to face us, grinning from ear to ear. "Trust me, you're gonna love this place."

* * *

It _does_ look kinda nice in here. Wooden tables, warm lighting, walls covered with old pictures and older posters. Textbook example of the stereotypical American family-owned restaurant.

Other than us there's just a pair of elderly couples eating at the same table, so we are shown to our table the second we walk in. Our orders are taken with equal swiftness, leaving us to the homey atmosphere of this place. And Johan's hushed babbling that I am just barely listening to. Sorry Johan, but I think I'll just look it up online when I get home. Or ask Wilhelm about the short version.

When our orders are placed on the table I realize that we all ordered the same kind of burger Johan did. Huh. Guess Wilhelm and I just followed johan's lead. Not too sure about Arthur though, he's been kinda aloof after we met Make a Wish.

Johan either doesn't know or care that nobody is really listening to him. "And that is why there is no Gesellschaft anymore-"

* * *

Several streets away, a young Mexican man idly hummed to himself on top of some store or other. Tossing the remote to his television up into the air, he smoothly dance-collapsed into a folding chair he had set up before catching the remote as it fell down.

Smirking, he brought it to bear at the television. "Entertain me."

He pressed 'Standby'

* * *

Johan collapses. Just fucking collapses. One moment he is reciting the story about the founding of Open Mic and then next he just completely shuts down and falls to the floor of this restaurant, dragging the table and all our food with him. It is like somebody flicked a fucking switch.

Wilhelm is the first to react. "JoJo!" He doesn't seem to give a shit about the ketchup and mayonnaise and shit all over his pants as he leaps out of his chair while all I can do is to stare at Johan just lying face down on the floor-

"Taylor!"

"W-whuh!?"

Having been brought back into reality I whip my head around to look Arthur in the eye. "Y-yes?"

"We need an ambulance and I don't know the number!"

How does he not know the emergency numbers- oh right, British. "On it!" I tear my eyes away from Johan's dead ones and start digging around in my jacket for my cellphone. Have to call an ambulance.

What the hell is going on?

**To Be Continued**

* * *

**AN**

Taylor is going through the troubles inherent in transitioning from being a Worm Person to a JoJo Person. As for this chapter it was mostly just setup for the next part, which has the actual fight.

**Stand Name: Make a Wish  
Master**: Unknown  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power D  
Speed A  
Range A  
Durability D  
Precision A  
Developmental Potential B

**Abilities:**

**Without Time and Space: **Make a Wish possesses the power of teleportation and can take people and objects with it. Range is unknown.

**Physical Stand: **Make a Wish is visible and tangible to non-Stand Users.  
**  
****Semi-Independent Stand: **Make a Wish is not directly controlled by its User and can make its own decisions with no compulsion to obey its User. It is still bound to the User's life force and will perish should the User die.

Make a Wish is named for the song of the same name by **Flipsyde**.


	7. 4 Make a Wish and Couch Potato Part 2

**JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

**Chapter 4. Make a Wish and Couch Potato Part 2.1**

* * *

/

A hand withdrew from the thin curtains, letting them fall back into place and once again throwing the shabby room into darkness.

"Don't bother unpacking." Came the voice of the hand's owner. "Half of them suspect something."

The declaration brought a round of groans and mutters, but the others quickly got to work to relocate to the secondary hideout.

As for the leader, they had something to do before they followed…

* * *

This _really_ isn't my day.

All right, first Johan collapses, then we have to bust our asses off making sure that we all have put our masks on without Century Color helping is, then those fucking ambulance people wouldn't let us ride in the car with them so we had to walk, and now Arthur is missing! How is this supposed to get any worse?

I mean, at least they let us see him now that we're here. Wilhelm rushed in before me once we got to the room they put him in, half-running over to Johan's side. I follow after him, gingerly walking around the bed until I stand on the side opposite of my one conscious (and present what the fuck Arthur) teammate. He has Blumenkranz manifested around his hands, sliding the bone-plated gauntlets across Johan's skin.

Why?

Oh right…Wilhelm can sense life. "Is he…"

I trail off, not sure why. Maybe I am just too scared to say it out loud.

Wilhelm bails me out. "He's alive, don't worry about that." He lets go of Johan's arm where he slid up the sleeve. "But…it is as if his higher brain functions just…"

He lifts his gaze to look at me. "They haven't shut down, it is as if…"

The door opens behind us, and a pair of doctors and a nurse come in.

"Right," One of them begins. "You were the capes coming along with the patient, correct?" He glances around. "Weren't there supposed to be three of you?"

"Stand Users." I reflexively correct, something that has been getting easier the past few weeks since I met Johan. "But yes, to both questions. We don't know where the third one went." I point at Wilhelm. "He is Blumenkranz, and I am Isolated."

The doctor studies his clipboard, or so he wants us to think. I can see that his eyes aren't moving from here. What is this asshole trying to pull? He looks up before I can call him on it though.

"Please come with me, in there sorts of cases there are certain formalities to address."

I look over at Wilhelm, who shrugs in the manner of one who just doesn't see any other way. He does take the time to tell the doctor who will remain with Johan what he figured out with Blumenkranz, so they might jump to it faster now that they know. Maybe. I don't know how these things are done!

Where the fuck are you Arthur?!

* * *

After the two young capes had left the room the second doctor quickly went over the patient's body with practiced hands. Once he was finished the chill of a doctor handling a child with slim chances of survival had settled in his gut. The boy's eyes did not react to the flashlight, he was barely breathing, his heart was beating at the bare minimum, the list went on.

If nothing happened in a few minutes then-didhiseyesjustopen?!

The boy sat up with a suddenness that defied the deathly state he had been in seconds before. His eyes held a mad gleam as he looked the doctor and the nurse over, and even through the fabric of the mask he wore they could see hints of the manic grin on his face.

"Good afternoon colleague, nurse! I am Home!_ Doctor_ Home! I have just recently been transferred to this hospital!"

"Y-young man." The doctor stammered. "You must be confused. You were just brought in here by your friends after you collapsed, and-"

The boy's arm swung through the air like a guillotine, killing the doctor's words in his throat. "Fool! I think you will find that _you_ are the one who is confused!" He jumped off the hospital bed with a short, insufferably smug laugh. "After all, how dare you, a common _baker_, attempt to diagnose me?!"

"I am not a baker!" The unfortunate man tried to argue. "I am a doctor at this hospital and you are-"

The boy's eyes widened behind his mask. "Could it be?" They narrowed. "Of course! There is no other explanation!" He pointed towards them in a manner that could only be describes as _condemning_. "You are minions of Lessiarty!"

Before the beleaguered doctor and nurse could voice any sort of objection a ghostly figure in a colorful jumpsuit appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the sheets of the beds before it flew at them. A quick series of knots and the slamming of a closet door later, and the boy and the ghost walked out of the door and into the hospital corridor. The boy was buttoning up a doctor's uniform.

"Thank you for your quick thinking, Nurse Thatson." The boy said to the ghost, who remained silent. Undeterred by his companion's silence, the boy sped up.

"Now onward, my patients await!"

If any among the hospital staff thought something was amiss with the bizarrely young doctor and the heavy makeup of the nurse accompanying him they did not voice it. And why would they? Anyone who looked would say that the young man exuded a special aura, as if the world has proclaiming him to be a **「****Doctor****」**.

The young man stopped as if he had walked into a wall. Then the surgical mask crinkled as a smile appeared on his face.

"Nurse Thatson, I believe things are looking up."

* * *

"I didn't know you could do that." The Mexican boy said to his Stand as he watched the mayhem on its screen. To think that his Stand's ability when used on another Stand User would allow them to retain the use of their Stands, and simply rewrite the show to make the new 'character' fit the plot…

The sound of feet crunching the snow behind him took his attention away from his entertainment. "Boss Lady-?"

A ghostly fist slammed into his left cheek, throwing him out of his chair and face first into the snow. Intellectually he knew that it was a light blow, considering the nature of his boss' Stand, but on the other hand: "The fuck, bitch?!"

"You idiot!" She hissed, her accent clear through her obvious rage. "You tagged Century Color right in front of our hideout. This is the first place they will come looking!"

The boy swallowed, his hand falling from his face as her words sunk in. "Er…I-"

A Look silenced him. "Get out of here. They will come here and if they find you I believe you will find it very unpleasant." She turned on a heel and stalked off towards the roof entrance.

"Do _not_ follow us to the secondary hideout."

Once he was certain she had left he quickly shrunk his Stand until he could carry the old fashioned television under his arm before speeding towards the fire escape. If the Boss Lady wanted him gone, he thought as he ran down the metal steps, then he was not going to stick around.

He leapt over the last few steps, almost slipping on the snow-slick asphalt of the alley. After a few seconds to catch his breath he ran out into the street. He knew of a few places where he could sit down and watch the fireworks in peace, but it was going to be a long walk and in the distance he could see the last bus-

A ramshackle **「****Wooden Booth****」 **caught his eye.

That'd do.

After he had massaged the headache away of course. What was that all about?

* * *

Oh what fresh level of hell is this?

_'Language, Taylor'_ I think to myself as Wilhelm and I start going through the empty room. Johan always says that when somebody says something blasphemous.

We don't have to search for long, the muffled shouts from the closet quickly lead us to the doctor and the nurse we left with Johan. Both of them have been stripped down to their underwear and tied up with bedsheets. I can't wait to hear this.

"It was the patient!" Screams the doctor without me asking him what the hell happened. '_Language, Taylor_'. Shut up. "He suddenly woke up and called himself 'Doctor Home' before he used his cape power to subdue us!"

"Doctor Home?" Asks Wilhelm. I shrug when he looks at me. The name sounds familiar, but I can't remember where I heard it.

"I dunno. Anyway!"

We end up taking the two of them with us. We make for a weird ensemble, I'm sure, Wilhelm and I with our costumes and the two hospital staff members all up in bedsheet togas.

"Excuse me!" I yell at pair of nurses. "Have you seen anyone strange coming out of this room?"

"Strange?" The closest one responds. "No, just a **「****Doctor****」** and nurse."

Both Wilhelm and I suddenly clutch our heads. What the fuck was that?! It doesn't _hurt_ per se, it's just some kind of…weight, I guess? Whatever it was it fades quickly.

After we assure the nurses that we're alright I tell Wilhelm we should split up.

"And I should agree to this why?" He huffs. "If you haven't noticed, there's-"

"Because Johan is being controlled by some kind of ability, right?" I interrupt.

"As far as we can tell, yes, but-"

"And my ability isn't really suited for precision, while yours can neutralize any organic opponent by touching them." I explain before gesturing at the nurses and the doctor. "Besides, somebody needs to get the hospital management to call the PRT, right."

He nods uncomfortably.

"I'll come join you afterwards!" I shout over my shoulder as I drag the former captives towards where the signs say that the management is at. If all goes well, Wilhelm will find Johan and we'll all be laughing at this over some fries.

That Arthur will be paying for because seriously what the fuck Arthur?!

* * *

"We're losing him!"

The cry echoed through the operating room, almost lost in the din of the frenzied work of the surgeons surrounding the man at the operating table.

"What about Panacea?" Demanded a surgeon as he desperately fought to save his patient's life.

"She is busy with several cases on the other side of the city, she won't make it!"

The surgeon in charge of the operation could feel himself losing the will to struggle any further. For hours they had fought to save this man, through complication after complication, buying time for Panacea. For naught.

They would need a miracle to-

The doors to the operating room opened, drawing all eyes to the light pouring in as they admitted two people into the room. A **「****Doctor****」** and a nurse.

"Colleagues." The surprisingly young doctor began as he drew closer to the operating table, his grave (yet confident) expression clear through his surgical mask. "I know that the situation is dire, but do not lose hope!"

The surgeons parted for the new arrivals, too shocked to speak against the **「****Doctor****」**.

The young man grabbed a clean scalpel, holding it in a manner reminiscent of one who has watched medical dramas on television, but had no idea of how to properly hold one.

"I know just how to treat cases…like these!"

He brought the scalpel down.

* * *

Arthur bit back a curse. His body jarred as be forced it to a stop on the snow-covered streets of Brockton Bay, spinning on a heel before storming forth in another direction.

* * *

Well…we found Johan.

Sitting on top of the shoulders of a small crowd of haggard-locking doctors as they carry him reverently through the Break Room. Even with the doctor getup I can see his generic Open Mic mask, and Century Color in a nurse's outfit is right there walking beside the doctors.

"How did you know?" Asks the doctor he is sitting on. "Your methods…they seem insane, but-"

Another doctor interrupts. "You are amazing doctor Home!"

"Please," Johan answers indulgently, a slight echo to his voice. "It was the least of my arts."

He jumps down from his perch to land on the smooth hospital floor. "After all,"

Seriously, there is that echo again. What's causing-

I glance upon the Break Room TV. Oh hey, Doctor Home is on.

…

Wait.

On the screen a doctor is speaking to a crowd of his adoring colleagues.

"_After all, it is a doctor's duty to place their art at the disposal of the people!_"

"It is a doctor's duty to place their art at the disposal of the people!" Echoes Johan.

I poke Wilhelm, and after a second of staring at the screen he puts two and two together. We share a glance between us before we wordlessly agree to subdue Johan before whoever is doing this to him puts on some like…I dunno, New Jackass or something.

Our job seems easy at first, when the Doctor Home episode goes to credits he collapses like a puppet with its strings cut. Or as if someone flicked an off switch (a glance confirms that Century Color is still manifested). Wilhelm hurries towards him, Blumenkranz in place on his outstretched hand. Johan can't cause any trouble if he is a bulletproof vest or something.

Which is of course when things start going wrong.

Apropos of nothing, Johan leaps into the air, giving off an awful shriek as he lands on all fours. What is it _now_? He's acting like some sort of monster-

Of course!

"Hold him off!" I tell Wilhelm before running up to the TV and changing the channel.

Sports, news, nature show, cartoon, there!

On the screen a twisted wolf monster, shrieking just like Johan, has just subdued a woman in revealing clothing and has started to climb the building. Hey, I've seen this movie! Emma showed it to me once while we were friends.

The memory does get me in bit of a good mood, which quickly vanishes when I see Werewolf Johan through the transparent wall, carrying a beaten Wilhelm up the stairs. How the _fuck_ did that happen?!-

A multicolored hand slams into the doorframe beside me, Century Color's head following right after. The Stand is hunched over like Johan is, its mouth twisted into a bestial snarl.

Oh. So that's how.

I react as quickly as I can, teleporting over to a doctor and throwing him at the Stand. The poor guy quickly gets pounced on and beaten senseless before Century Color hefts him over its shoulder and flees towards the stairs, completely ignoring me in the process.

…Okay, if they follow the movie then I have until they get to the roof before they'll start eating Wilhelm and the other guy. But how to subdue Johan…

A solution hits me, and I rush the nearest doctor.

* * *

I am almost too late to save them. When I get there Werewolf Johan is busily slamming his masked face into Wilhelm's neck, making frustrated animal noises as he fails to get his jaws around it. Werewolf Century Color is just looking at his captive, maybe because the movie only had one werewolf.

A snowball gets Werewolf Johan's attention. Once I'm certain that I've gotten his and Werewolf Century Color's attention I reveal my weapon:

The biggest fucking syringe I could find, filled with what the doctor assured me was a near-lethal dose of tranquilizer. Can't remember the proper name for it right now.

"You know something funny?" I tell werewolf-Johan as I ready the syringe for a stab. "The epicenter on Isolated's main power isn't me, but the top of her head."

He snarls at me, which, while consistent with the movie he is acting out, is rather annoying. Then they charge me, leaving Wilhelm and the doctor forgotten in the snow behind them.

"What does that how to do with anything?" I mumble as he draws closer. "You'll see."

I may not have figured out how I made that coin explode, but I do know how I teleported!

Isolated moves so that she is emerging from my right side, and with a quick thought, I am no longer there, but several meters to the left of where I once stood.

Werewolf Johan's charge turns into a belly flop when his target disappears.

My teleportation is simple: I just target the whole area that Isolated's power can affect and pick myself as the element to be segregated. I will then proceed to be shunted out of the area of effect in the most direct manner, and since the center of Isolated's range is the top of her head, I can control which direction is the most direct.

It _is_ way more tiring to use than a standard segregation, though, I recall as I teleport away from another attack. Fuck, I'm already breathing hard.

My hands clench around the syringe. Time to wait for an opening. I glance at Wilhelm's prone form. And to keep Johan focused on me, that's important too.

My chance comes quickly. Johan just cannot keep up with my teleports, even with Century Color acting as a second werewolf, and when he slips on the rooftop slush I 'port in right beside him and drive the fuckhuge needle into his shoulder. The auto-injection mechanism gets to work, pumping the whole dose right into Johan's body.

Teleporting back out of reach, I settle in to wait.

It doesn't take long, first Johan begins to stumble, then Century Color vanishes, and after a minute or so he can't move anymore. He has been reduced to weakly working his mouth at me while glaring in my general direction with cloudy unfocused eyes.

I kick him over so that I can take the empty syringe out of his shoulder. Hard.

With how pissed I am I probably would have stomped his face a couple times. He's lucky he's hot…And that we're friends of course.

Yeah.

* * *

"You know…" Declared a voice behind the furious Mexican Stand User, Median Alfonso. "I am starting to think that you are not actually with Century Color's group at all!"

Median almost snarled as he turned away from the screen showing the defeat of the Stand User he had tagged with his ability. "Well what the fuck tipped you off?!" He demanded of the weird Stand whose services he had hired.

"Well, to begin with-"

It couldn't be serious. "Oh just fuck off!"

The weird Stand straightened with a huff. "Well, if you are going to be like that." It snapped in an offended tone before it vanished with a pop of displaced air.

Median then realized that he had paid Make a Wish in advance. Fu-

A coin sliced straight through his hand, making him drop the remote onto the snow. He wailed and fell to his knees, clutching his crippled hand to his chest. "W-whaaaa!"

"Oi, Suzy!"

The Hispanic Stand User haltingly turned his head towards the British-sounding voice. Its owner, coins spinning at his fingertips, stepped off the top of the fire escape and marched towards him.

"H-how did you-?"

The other Stand User interrupted him by kicking him in the jaw.

"I slipped one of my coins into your pocket when we first met."

At the sight of his bleeding opponent he continued. "Now, I wasn't sure it was you at first, but you were my only lead." He admitted before his eyes gained a lethal glint to them. "Imagine my surprise when you started to teleport around."

He walked up to Median, passing the spinning coins over to his Stand before he hauled the Mexican boy up by the front of his jacket.

"Now you gonna tell me everthin', and if I think you're tellin' me porkies then-"

Median's face combusted.

While the shock made Arthur release him, it did not take him more than an instant to realize that the fire on Median's face was in the shape of a heart, and that the fire did not seem to burn him. The Hispanic boy was screaming, make no mistake, but the screams were screams of **「****Fear****」**, not **「****Pain****」**.

Trying to quench the fire assailing Median was pointless, the fire and the snowbank that Arthur had forced his face into not seeming to interact at all. The only thing that Arthur was able to do was to keep Median from hurting himself in his frenzied panic.

He was catatonic by the time the fire went out.

Well, shit.

**Median Alfonso**

**Stand: Couch Potato**

**RETIRES**

* * *

"The Director..." Johan begins after he steps out of Director Piggot's office. "Is not happy."

The four of us were taken in by the PRT about ten minutes after I managed to subdue Johan. Armsmaster injected him with something to wake him up after Arthur showed up with a guy he claims is the enemy Stand User. At least we're getting out of here.

"Which means," Johan continues. "That we'll have to check in with Make a Wish. It will be better if we let the Director cool off a bit before we ask her to give a sapient, unsupervised projection a business permit."

That makes sense, I guess. "Did she tell you anything about the guy who attacked us?"

"Still unconscious, Isolated. We're not getting' anything out of him."

Fuck.

I kinda feel a bit guilty when Johan tells Make a Wish that he has to wait a bit for the permit, poor thing sounded really disappointed.

Still…

"Hey, C2, why are we here?" Asks Wilhelm, taking the words out of my mouth.

"Remember when I helped that guy with the TV? That was the enemy Stand User." Johan turns towards Arthur. "Remember?"

Arthur/Loadsamoney nods at him.

"I…" Johan trails off before he continues. "I also felt something while we were here. Something **「****Familiar****」**."

All four of us flinch a bit when Johan utters that last word. Seriously what is that?

…And why the hell is he laughing?

"Johan?" I ask, quietly chiding myself for forgetting that we are in costume. "What-what was that?"

He doesn't answer at first, too busy laughing. It is a happy laugh, I can see tension pretty much rolling off his shoulders, but eventually it comes to an end.

"I suppose you wouldn't know, you've lived your whole life like this after all. Even us who haven't-" Johan gestures towards the other Europeans. "-get used to the**「****Monochrome****」** far too easily."

There is was again!

"But to answer your question:" He says before throwing out his arms. "This, Taylor,"

"Is **「****Colours****」**."

**To be continued**

* * *

**AN**

**Stand Name: Couch Potato  
Master**: Median Alfonso  
**Stats**  
Destructive Power E  
Speed E  
Range D  
Durability A  
Precision E  
Developmental Potential C

**Abilities:**

**HD-Ready:** The first half of Couch Potato, an old-time television set. Despite its apparent age it can get channels from all around the world and display them in perfect HD. People who are touching this part of the Stand may be tagged with a small burst of electricity.

**Remote is Ready:** The Second half of Couch Potato, a 90's style TV remote. While it can be used to switch the channels displayed on Couch Potato's TV screen, its main purpose is to control the tagged individual. Controlled individuals will act and think as if they were the central person displayed on the screen, from weather reporters to action heroes, within their physical capabilities. Stands will still serve a controlled User.

**Physical Stand:** Couch Potato may be seen and interacted with by non-Stand Users while it is manifested.

**Object Stand:** Couch Potato is an object with no will or sapience of its own.

Couch Potato is named for the song of the same name by **Weird Al Yankovic**.


	8. Interlude 2

Interlude 2.

* * *

He was an old man, long used to waking up in the middle of the night with pressing matters to attend to, and when walking through the dark rooms of his home he heard it. A voice, humming softly a few rooms away.

It was male, he realized with a chill. With only him, his wife and his adopted daughter here, and with no servants having been called, it had to be an intruder. Reasons as to why anyone would break into his home raced through his worn mind as he moved as stealthily as he could towards the phone in the living room. His vision had deteriorated heavily the past decade, but he knew these rooms like the back of his hand. It was only a moment before-

The voice, one several rooms away suddenly shifted to come from a place in front of him. Through old and weary eyes he could see a figure, human yet eerie, standing between him and the phone. The dark made it featureless to the old man's eyes, yet even from where he stood he could feel the figure's **「****Smile****」**.

Humming suddenly turned into song, the syllables softly echoing in his ears.

"You left the scene, without a trace."

He turned as best he could, his legs shaking under the strain, but try as he might the door fled from him, the other side of the room disappearing into the horizon.

"One hand on the ground, one hand in space."

And then the figure was right in front of him, hands with skin like rough rock striking with lighting quickness to close around his throat.

"Hello."

He struggled, tried to scream, to knock something over, but the figure's grip vas like iron, and whatever objects he might have knocked down fled from his reach like the door had.

"Hello."

He tried to fight, striking the figure with feeble blows that only seemed to amuse it. His hands bled as the skin of his knuckles was scraped off by the rough hide of his assailant.

"Hello."

As his struggles weakened the figure brought the old man's face closer to its own. It whispered the last words of its quiet song into his ear, its words barely heard by the old man through his vain efforts to escape.

"**「****Hello Again****」**."

Those were the last words the old man heard before he passed away from oxygen deprivation, strangled to death by an attacker he didn't know. After carefully lowering the body to the ground the figure waited, with its hand on its heart, as if **「****Waiting for something****」**.

Whatever that something was, it failed to appear, for with a small slump of defeat the figure took a step forward.

And disappeared. 

* * *

The four of them, three men and one woman, sat around an expensive-looking table. They met regularly, as was their wont, to discuss matters of policy and governance. Today was different, for how could it not be?

It was not every day that **「****Joseph Joestar****」 **is found murdered in his own home. 

* * *

"Would you believe me if I told you that Century Color wants me to give an unsupervised projection a license to run a teleportation business in this city?" Director Emily Piggot asked Armsmaster, her attention only partially on the conversation and miles away from the paperwork on her desk as she watched the news of the dramatic chase and capture of some hostage takers at that very news station by Century Color and his idiot thugs.

"Yes." The man answered, as if the idea was nothing out of the ordinary. "I can believe he asked you something like that."

The Director didn't wait for him to continue. "I'd rather have this 'Make a Wish' thing where I can see it." She wrote something down in her notebook. "I told Century Color to bring it here on Friday."

"And in other news:" Declared the newscaster with an odd look on his face, as if he was honestly surprised by the text on his teleprompter. "Two villains, whose identities are as of yet unconfirmed by the authorities, are reported as having escaped from the Birdcage.

Witnesses claim that the pair has disguised themselves as musicians Hall and Oates on their way towards the Bay area. Citizens are advised to not request 'I can't go for that'."

The pen snapped in her grip, spraying ink all over her desk. How many complaints did she need to send to the Chief Director before something was _done_ with that little European _shit_? 

* * *

AN

Interludes do not include Stand Data.


End file.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, Worm, Drama