☆ ⁺ « 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓
★˚⋆ YOU HAD TO ADMIT IT was impressive how easily Zero had managed to get your entire crew into this room. A matching set of mag-cuffs to the one Trish and Narancia had been dragged here with was now suspended around Fugo and Mista's wrists, the two of them flopped over a chaise. Sheila was just finishing settling Narancia and Trish on the opposite couch. She was ridiculously strong for someone so slight.
For some reason, you were left unrestrained. Not that you wanted to join the mag-cuff party, but something slimy squirmed in your chest at the sight of your crew being cuffed. All the while, Zero sat across from you on a tiny rose-wood stool watching your movements. His lips were curved just shy of a smile as he watched you fume.
Your chest felt like it was going to explode. It was as though this was your first job, just a day off from being a fledgling crew. Didn't you know to read your clients better than this? To anticipate their movements? To never let them flacking catch you with your pants down? What part of you had allowed you to underestimate Zero of all people?
He would laugh if he saw you like this. You had never fumbled an initial meeting this badly.
"Thank you, Sheila." Zero nodded once the girl had finished restraining your crew. "You may go. Please inform my guests that I will be occupied for the next little while."
"Sure thing," Sheila said. "You just let me know if something comes up." She slipped out of the room, but not before shooting a wicked grin in your direction.
For a few minutes, neither you nor Zero said anything. You wanted him to make the first move. You'd already made a fool of yourself. No need to give him more ammunition.
"You look nice, Captain."
Your jaw ticked. You couldn't bring yourself to thank him for his compliment. Zero himself looked nice as well. The black robes he was wearing were reminiscent of traditional ones worn by the Imperial family—which was probably the point for that prick of irony. A richly embroidered overcoat draped over his shoulders, the design of leaves and tassels glimmering in the low light. A debonair hat sat on Zero's head, complete with a plume of green feathers that drooped lazily. His brocade mask melded to his face like a second skin, the teardrop jewel swinging with each subtle movement.
"I won't negotiate without the input of my crew," you said, thanking the stars that your voice sounded steelier than you felt. "At least, I assume that's why you have us here instead of kicking us out of the party."
Zero had retrieved the brick phone from Trish and Narancia. He rotated it in his gloved hands, considering every angle of it. Eventually, he set it on the coffee table.
"It was impressive that you got as far as you did. That you managed to get your hands on the Nokia. You could've left right then, no?"
"The phone wasn't my goal," you said.
"I had a feeling." Zero flicked his fingers. In unison, all of your crew perked up, suddenly wide awake.
"What's going on? Who died?" Mista whipped his head around, nearly knocking out Fugo.
"Cap, you alright?" Narancia asked.
"Where's the phone?" Trish cried.
"Stars, would you sit still? Moron," Fugo growled.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather them be unconscious?" Zero asked pleasantly.
A weight seemed to slough off your shoulders that your crew was alright. You made contact with each of them, trying to communicate for them to work with you. To make it seem as though you had some modicum of control in this situation.
"What do you want from us, Zero?" Fugo asked, the first, as always, to read the situation.
"I'd say it's more a matter of what you want from me," Zero replied. "You clearly came here with a plan in mind. Why not let it wind its course?"
Narancia whipped his head toward you, looking as lost as anything. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, trying to think of something but coming up empty.
Zero laughed at the expression on your face. He leaned back in his seat with a sigh. "Captain, please don't misunderstand the situation here. I don't have all evening to watch you flounder. You have just stolen the most valuable item in my collection to date. You've disrupted a banquet months in the making and threatened the security of various high-profile dealers and vagabonds throughout the galaxy. I should report you. More than that, I should kill you for having the audacity to galavant around my boat as though you own the place. So please, tell me what you're doing here and give me even one reason as to why I should keep you alive?"
Perhaps the scariest thing about Zero was how well he had his facade in place. The coy smile didn't leave his lips, his voice stayed smooth as chrome. Nothing could have indicated that he was upset, or that he had just threatened to off your crew.
Just who were you dealing with here?
"Give us a job." The words came not from you but Trish. She raised her chin, Upper Space haughtiness on max level. "We're here because we want a job from you. I think we've more than proved ourselves."
Zero canted his head. "A job?"
"That's right," Mista said. "We stole your damn brick phone like it was nothing. There isn't flack in the galaxy we wouldn't be able to steal."
"You must know about Stands, right?" Narancia asked. "Well we've got 'em. All five of us. Think of what we'd be able to do with that kind of power."
"We've never failed a job before," Fugo said quietly. "You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone more capable."
It was like the crew had stolen the words right from your mouth. Stars, if you pulled through, you'd take them all out for drinks.
"Us stealing the Nokia was for you to see just how we operate," you said. "You can trust us to get things done, and with our Stands, even the trickiest security is child's play. You'll never get another crew like us. We've been on the low for way too long. We're ready to make our comeback, and that could be with you, Zero. Whatever you want stolen, it'll be in your hands."
Zero allowed a moment for the words to settle. You almost believed you'd convinced him when he asked mildly, "Who do you think you are? Are you so delusional that you think you're the best thieving crew in the galaxy? Do you know how many times Inspector Abbacchio has detained you? The reputation you've garnered? Yes, you deliver, but you have no respect for your clients or anyone you work with. You think you're untouchable, when really, we're just too tired to deal with you. Just look how easily I caught you today."
"We're only here because we haven't tried to escape," Mista said, and something in his tone made you want to kiss him. "Mr. Zero, if we wanted to escape, and if we wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be sitting there all pretty."
Suddenly the air in the room seemed to shift. It was less about Zero against you, but the five of you against Zero. In that situation, who would be more likely to win?
"There you are," Zero whispered. "I was wondering when I would meet the real Passione."
Zero rose from his seat. He walked deliberately to the back of the room, stooping to take something before returning to place it in front of you on the coffee table. When he tapped it, a projection illuminated the air.
"I want you to steal this for me."
He swiped his hand through the hologram, rotating it gently. You leaned forward to get a better look.
It was a large arrow, the arrowhead wickedly sharp. Where the shaft connected to the arrowhead the gold was molded into the shape of a crouching insect, a sharp horn protruding from its back and its proboscis melding into the tip. Green curlicues swirled over the flat of the arrowhead, and its burnished surface seemed to gleam even as a hologram. All together, the arrow was about the length of your forearm. It seemed more decorative than deadly, although anything speared through your skull was bound to end badly.
Mista asked the obvious question. "What is that?"
"A Stand arrow." A thread of reverence lined Zero's words. "Several thousand years ago, a meteorite struck Earth. The rocks surrounding the crash site contained a virus that was deadly to humans. Of course, they didn't find that out until later. Someone wanted to harness the deadly power of these rocks, and so they made them into these beautiful arrowheads. If you're unfortunate enough to be struck by one, the virus will ensure your death. Or, you just might be lucky enough to gain a Stand."
"You—you could gain a Stand? From this thing?" Trish breathed.
"Incredible, isn't it? You could make an entire army of Stand users, all with unique powers and abilities. I'm sure you've heard the poetic explanation of Stands and soul manifestations and whatnot."
As Zero spoke, you realized this arrow was unlike anything else in Zero's collection. It wasn't ostentatious just for show, used to lord over nobles and display his wealth and power. If this Stand arrow truly did what Zero claimed . . .
He'd change the galaxy with it. Everyone who didn't die would have a Stand.
The realization was like a whip snap, and judging from the looks on your crew's faces, they had just had it too.
"What are you saying?" Narancia suddenly sounded angry. "You want us to hand over this crazy-powerful arrow so you can make a whole bunch of Stand users? In what universe would we be stupid enough to do that? I don't care how much you pay us. You'd take over the galaxy with power like that."
"Why are you changing your minds so suddenly?" Zero asked innocently. "Our Emperor is delusional. His sons are incompetent. This galaxy is headed for ruin. Who better than me to turn all of this around? With this Stand arrow, anything is possible."
"Let us out of here," Mista ground out. "Report us, arrest us, whatever. We're not doing this shit for you."
"But as you so eloquently put it, you're the only ones who can do this for me. I've had my eye on this Stand arrow for years, sent dozens of crews after it. None have been successful. And now you're here, offering to give it to me." Zero spread his arms. "I've been waiting for you."
"You'll kill all of us," Fugo said. "Why would we let you do that?"
Zero's words were barely above a whisper. "If you're not worthy of manifesting a Stand, you're not worthy of life. This galaxy has grown stagnant. We've conquered all of life's hurdles. Survival of the fittest must reign again."
You had come here expecting a job, not a deathwish for the galaxy.
You made eye contact with Mista. His jaw tightened, and he nodded imperceptibly. You tapped your thigh twice, hoping everyone was watching.
Everyone's Stands appeared at once. Aerosmith bore down on Zero, showering him with bullets, sending feathers and cushions flying. The second Spice Girl softened the mag cuffs around Fugo and Mista, they were on their feet, Mista firing off his Elector and Fugo rushing outside. You were reaching for Party Rock, ready to grab your Elector, to run, to get away from this maniac.
"Kiss in Blue Heaven," Zero intoned, and everything went still.
- ✦ -
Zero was a simple man at heart. He was like a child, seeing something behind neon storefronts and setting his heart on it. He threw tantrums when he didn't get what he wanted, and in typical child fashion, he grew bored with his toys after barely a week of playing with them. But he wasn't a child, and his toys were million-credit cars and ancient tech and designer outfits from bygone eras. His tantrums played out in destroyed livelihoods, enormous debt, and bodies cooling in blood.
What Zero wanted, he got.
The Stand arrow had not interested him at first, but Zero had grown fond of it over time. The potential it wielded was unlike any he had ever known, its power limitless, its influence spanning galaxies. Zero called himself the most powerful man in the galaxy, but with this arrow in his possession, it would be true.
The Emperor would bow to him. The galaxy would kiss his feet. He would wield the power of the gods, bestowing Stands to all who were worthy.
How marvellous.
It had been a struggle to find the right crew to retrieve it for him. He knew where it was—under the possession of a man named Jean Pierre Polnareff, an isolated Stand user who had deemed himself the arrow's guardian. The man had hidden himself away somewhere in the galaxy, his location unknown to everyone but himself.
No matter. There was little Zero could not afford with his wealth.
It became obvious that no ordinary crew would be able to retrieve the arrow for Zero. Such potent energy surrounded it, drawing bizarre phenomena and inexplicable happenings. The Stand arrow was protected not only by Polnareff, but unwittingly by other Stand users who wanted to get their hands on it. Oftentimes, the users killed each other in their battles before they ever came close to the arrow.
Zero required powerful Stand users, yes, but he needed a crew that would work together, who wouldn't tear each other apart when the arrow inevitably affected them. Zero agonized over where he could find such a crew, until one fateful banquet when a ragtag crew fell at his feet.
They weren't perfect, but they would do. It was just irritating that they hadn't accepted his reasoning for wanting the arrow. They thought him a monster. Him, the only one in the galaxy who could pay them enough.
Zero's Stand appeared over his shoulder, clad in overlapping silver and gold scales like the chainmail of old knights. Its fingers were shiny needles that clicked as it moved. It had no eyes and only a black slit for a mouth. The faint hum it emitted immediately calmed Zero.
Kiss in Blue Heaven clacked its fingers together. Instantly, everyone who had been charging at him stilled, their limbs suspended in mid-air. When the Stand opened its fingers, strands of diaphanous thread burst from their chests, bathing the room in golden light.
Zero hadn't known what his Stand's ability was at first. It had taken him a while to understand these threads were a person's resolve. They were intrinsically linked to a person, and now that Zero was more experienced, he could see how the resolves of the crew were tethered to each other and their captain. Their willingness to do things, their motivation—it was based on each person in the crew and how it would affect them.
Yes, this was the crew he'd been looking for.
A handful of glittering threads spread from each of the crewmates to the captain. That would make things easier; all he had to do was manipulate the captain's resolve for everyone else to fall in line. Zero strode over to the captain, teasing through their threads of resolve until he found the silver one related to theft, and the weaker strand that was torn about this job he'd given them. Zero yanked it out, watching as it twisted over itself in the air.
Kiss in Blue Heaven caught the thread, twisting it around its needle-fingers. To Zero's surprise, the thread suddenly grew thicker, turning into something more like steel cord. Their resolve, on this matter in particular, was decidedly against him. Zero tried to break the thread, to weave it into something different, but his Stand's needle fingers couldn't seem to pierce it.
You will accept a job from Zero. You made a promise to him. You are better off doing anything than working with Zero. It seemed like the Captain had gone through lengths to bury this particular thread in their resolve. It might have gotten them through temporarily, but somewhere in their subconscious, they were still against the idea of working with Zero, whether or not the arrow was involved.
Zero frowned. What could have happened to plant this belief so firmly? Words from someone Zero didn't know. Someone important perhaps. It was fascinating, what an effect they had on the Captain.
But also a pain. He wouldn't be able to manipulate their direct resolve then. Kiss in Blue Heaven would have to weave its own strand and insert into the Captain and their crew. This method wasn't as definite and more likely to fall apart. It would be easier for a person to reject Zero's new motivation.
There didn't seem to be much choice. In no time at all, Kiss in Blue Heaven wound a new thread together into a tight braid, Zero's new objective for the captain taken form.
Steal the Stand arrow from Jean Pierre Polnareff and deliver it to Zero.
The Stand then reattached the thread into the tapestry of the captain's resolve. This, in turn, twisted the threads extending from the crewmates, until their reservation and doubt about the job turned into eagerness and determination.
They would have no qualms about the job now. Not now that he'd rewritten all of their resolve. Tentatively, but still.
Kiss in Blue Heaven snapped its fingers. The resolve solidified back into the crewmates and they resumed their positions with a gasp. Confusion washed over their faces as they tried to understand why they were attacking the man who had just given them the biggest job in their thieving careers.
"You want us to steal the Stand arrow," the Captain said. The resolve hadn't hardened yet; it would take time to adjust.
"Yes."
"The Stand arrow," the gunman echoed. His face twisted, wondering at the odd space of emotion he felt.
"Indeed. I've sent all of the necessary information to your turtle. Anything you wonder should be directed to it. Of course, if you require any assistance along the way, I will do my best to provide. This is a group endeavour, after all." Zero gently removed the melted mag-cuff remains from each of the crew members. They rubbed their wrists, looking lost.
"How much will you pay us?" the pilot wondered.
"Whatever you desire."
". . . Ten million," whispered the Captain. Zero only grinned.
"Consider it done."
He had them now.
A tentative smile bloomed on the Captain's face. Zero made his way to them, reaching into a pocket in his robes.
"You'll be needing this."
He pinned a gold six-pointed star to the Captain's shirt. Their keys to the galaxy. No one would refuse them help with Zero's own emblem on them.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure." Zero clapped his hands together, turning to face the rest of the crew. "I'm a busy man. I'm sure you understand. As such, I will give you thirty days to retrieve this arrow for me. Can I trust that you'll meet that demand?"
"Of course." The Captain nodded. "Piece of cake."
"What will you do with the Stand arrow once you have it?" asked the engineer. Zero pursed his lips. Discreetly, when he peered through his Stand's eyes, he saw that the threads of his resolve, in particular, were the least entwined with the rest. One pull and it would unravel completely.
Interesting.
Zero tightened the thread, just barely. The crew was too cotton-headed to notice his Stand plunge its needle fingers through the engineer's chest. "I will make the galaxy a better place."
This seemed to satisfy everyone. They grinned at each other and turned for the door, practically buzzing with the newfound desire to steal the Stand arrow.
"Sorry about your brick phone," the pilot said, on his way out. "No hard feelings, right?"
"None at all. I sincerely hope our alliance with each other proves beneficial for all involved."
"We'll get that Stand arrow, Zero," the Captain said. "And you'll get us our ten million credits."
Zero barely suppressed a laugh. "On my honour, Captain."
The crew departed. Zero looked around at his torn-up sitting room and let out a rueful chuckle. What handful, Passione. He'd have to kill them once all of this was done.
Wouldn't he? Maybe not. Maybe they would continue to prove useful.
"Sheila," Zero said, and the girl materialized faster than a serving bot. He was particularly pleased with how deftly he'd managed to twist her resolve, how Kiss in Blue Heaven had turned her from an angry girl who bowed to no one, to a girl who looked at him with something akin to adoration.
"Yeah, Zero? Is that crew going after your Stand arrow?" Her acid-green eyes gleamed.
"Tail them for me, would you?" Zero said, reaching for a toffee. "Make sure they don't stray too far off track. Let me know about every little thing that happens, no matter how small. My patience has reached its limit. I will obtain that Stand arrow."
"Of course. I'll watch 'em like a hawk, Zero."
It had been a long time since Zero had felt such delicious anticipation. He had neglected to disclose one piece of information with the crew and he was beginning to feel glad he had.
If his research was correct, piercing a Stand user with the arrow yielded the possibility of achieving a higher form. Elevation. Perfection. If Kiss in Blue Heaven was already this powerful, just what would that arrow turn it into?
Requiem, he remembered someone calling it.
How absolutely marvelous.
- ✦ -
NEXT CHAPTER ─
❝ ETIQUETTE ISN'T SERVED AT BARS. YOU CAN DROP ALL OF THAT, CAPTAIN. ❞
☆ ⁺ ⠀«⠀ LOUNGING AROUND THE HUB