Chapter 36: Stand Service
Jonas's eyes snapped open. Morning. He'd been jolted awake by the insistent ringing of a telephone. He'd spent the night at Polnareff's place, the Frenchman having generously given Jonas his bed while he slept on a futon on the floor.
The phone kept ringing. Polnareff, clad in ridiculous cartoon pajamas, was sprawled out on the floor, dead to the world.
Jonas rubbed the sleep from his eyes, reached into his travel bag, and pulled out his phone—one of those old, brick-like models that could probably crack walnuts. He sat up against the headboard; dropping this thing on his face was not how he wanted to start the day. He answered.
"Yeah, Jonas speaking," he said, clearing his throat to sound more awake than he felt. The sun was already high in the sky; sleeping in didn't exactly fit his meticulously crafted image of a disciplined, globe-trotting author.
A sultry, familiar female voice chuckled on the other end. "Jonas, darling. You can try to sound awake all you want, but I know you were still sleeping."
Jonas yawned, abandoning the pretense. "I was up late writing last night. Needed the extra rest."
"Writing? Since when does the great Jonas Jourdan pull all-nighters for his craft?" the voice teased, effortlessly dismantling his excuse.
Jonas got out of bed, slipped on some slippers, and walked to the window. "Kalia," he sighed. "Did you call just to ruin my morning?"
"Actually," her tone shifted, becoming soft and alluring, "I called to propose. Marry me, Jonas?"
He frowned. "Denied. If that's all you called for, I'm hanging up."
"Wait, wait!" she said quickly. "I do have something important to tell you. It's about your royalties."
"Royalties?" Right. It was about that time.
"Yes. You reported your bank card lost or stolen a while back, didn't you? The publisher can't deposit the funds into a canceled account."
Ah. After Diavolo had robbed him, canceling his cards had been the first thing he'd done. He'd planned to get new ones back in the States after dealing with the thief, but... things had gotten complicated. Now, the royalty payment was due. His plan had been to head back to Egypt to hunt Enya, but it seemed a detour to America was now necessary.
"When is the payment deadline?"
"One week, darling. You'd better hurry back."
"Understood. I'll be there as soon as I can."
He hung up. As he turned to head to the washroom, he found Polnareff, still in his cartoon pajamas, standing there with a ridiculously gossipy expression on his face.
Jonas jumped. "Good grief! What's with that look, Polnareff?! You look like my Aunt Mildred trying to get the neighborhood dirt!"
Polnareff scratched his head sheepishly. "Well, I couldn't help but overhear. Who was that, Jonas? Your fiancée?"
"Not quite that far," Jonas replied vaguely.
"Quoi? 'Not quite that far'?" Polnareff looked utterly confused.
"She's my childhood friend," Jonas clarified.
"Childhood friend!" Polnareff's eyes lit up. "Ah, c'est magnifique! I always wished I had a childhood sweetheart, someone to grow up with and eventually marry..." He clasped his hands together, a dreamy look on his face.
"Marry her?" Jonas mused with a small smile. "Perhaps." Truthfully, he hadn't given it much thought. Marriage, commitment... they seemed like distant concepts. He might never marry at all.
Knock, knock, knock.
Sherry's voice came from the other side of the door. "Jonas? Brother? Lunch is ready!"
"Lunch?" Jonas checked his watch. It was almost noon.
"Hahaha! Looks like yesterday really took it out of you, Jonas!" Polnareff laughed.
After getting cleaned up, Jonas joined Polnareff for lunch. Afterward, it was time for him to leave.
"Jonas," Polnareff said, his voice serious again. "As soon as Sherry is settled in high school, I will find you. We will hunt those bastards down together."
Sherry looked at Jonas, her eyes filled with reluctance. "Be safe on your journey, Jonas."
"Don't worry," Jonas said with a reassuring smile. "It's not goodbye forever. I'll come visit when I can."
He shouldered his bag and left. Sherry watched him go, her gaze lingering until his figure disappeared down the road. Polnareff, seeing the look on his sister's face, felt a sudden, paternal pang of worry. He made a mental note to have a serious talk with her about... boys.
At the airport.
Jonas lounged comfortably in the waiting area. If another Stand user had been present, they would have witnessed a truly bizarre sight: a tall, black ninja Stand bustling around him, acting as a personal valet.
[Invisible Black Monster: Oni] zipped through the airport crowds, fetching snacks and drinks for its master. Once stocked, it returned and began giving Jonas a shoulder and leg massage. He leaned back, thoroughly enjoying the service.
This wasn't mere indulgence. Jonas knew the dangers of air travel for someone like him. An attack mid-flight could lead to a crash, and even his immortality might not save him from that. By openly displaying his Stand now, he was issuing a challenge. If you're going to attack, do it here, on solid ground. It also served as bait; any enemy Stand user would react to seeing [Oni], revealing themselves.
He closed his eyes, feigning relaxation, but his senses were on high alert, scanning the crowd. A Stand user manifesting their Stand was like a lighthouse in the dark; impossible to miss if you knew what to look for.
And indeed, sitting behind him, pretending to read a newspaper, was a man in an expensive suit, fake beard, and glasses. His eyes peered over the paper, observing Jonas intently.
He was another assassin sent by Enya. The bounty—a staggering fifty million US dollars—had drawn him and his brother all the way here.
"So, this is the fifty-million-dollar head?" the man muttered to himself. "He looks like a complete amateur, just showing off his new Stand. What kind of idiot wastes their mental energy having their Stand fetch them snacks? Doesn't he know how draining that is?"
Stands were manifestations of spiritual energy; summoning and controlling them took a toll. Powerful Stands could exhaust their user in minutes. Seeing Jonas use [Oni] for such trivial tasks marked him, in the assassin's eyes, as a novice.
"Heh. This just proves he's all flash, no substance. Fifty million dollars... Me and my brother are going to enjoy spending it!"