Chapter 39: He Never Even Summoned His Stand
The commotion caused by [Oni] had drawn the attention of every passenger in the terminal. Now, airport security had arrived, rushing over to de-escalate.
"Sir, calm down!" one of the guards said, holding back the irate boyfriend. "Let us handle this. If you start a fight, we have the right to remove you from the airport."
The boyfriend glared, but then... his eyes went wide. His gaze was fixed on the man on the floor. Victor was holding a pistol. And the guard's own holster... was empty.
"HE'S GOT A GUN!" the boyfriend shrieked, grabbing his girlfriend and scrambling away.
The guard instinctively reached for his own hip, only to grasp empty air. The other passengers, seeing the weapon, screamed and scattered in a wave of panic.
But the most terrified person in the entire terminal... was Victor.
He had watched, in slow-motion horror, as [Oni] had deftly snatched the guard's sidearm and tossed it to him. He had caught it on pure, stupid reflex. And now, in the eyes of everyone here, he was the armed assailant. He was framed. Utterly and completely framed! In this situation, the security forces were authorized to use lethal force!
His hands trembled violently. The pistol slipped from his nerveless grasp and clattered to the floor.
CLICK.
The sound was like a gunshot in the silent terminal. The guard, seeing his opening, pounced, tackling Victor with his full body weight.
"I... I'm innocent!" Victor sputtered, his face pressed into the linoleum. "I didn't steal it!"
"Save your story for the judge!" the guard snarled, pinning Victor's arms and driving a knee into his back, knocking the wind out of him.
Jingle... jingle...
He heard it again. The bells. Victor strained his neck, his eyes wide. He could see it. The restroom.
The last 100 meters! he screamed in his mind. Just let me reach that place! Once my brother and I are together, our Stands... WE ARE UNBEATABLE! I have to get out of this!
The guard was pulling out handcuffs.
No! I can't let him! Victor's eyes darted to the side. Jonas was... sitting... on a nearby bench, watching the whole show with a look of mild amusement. [Oni] was standing faithfully at his side.
He knows! He knows I'm the assassin! But... he's not...
It didn't matter. He was out of time. He had to summon his Stand.
"Come forth! My Stand...!"
A faint, shadowy form began to materialize at his side—
WHAM!
A boot connected squarely with the side of Victor's head. Jonas, moving like a "concerned citizen," had delivered a vicious, picture-perfect kick, knocking him out cold.
The phantom Stand... faded. Victor had failed to even summon it.
"Good grief," Jonas said, shaking his head as if in disappointment. "Society is really going downhill. Imagine, a lunatic trying to steal a guard's gun right in the middle of an airport."
The security guard, stunned by Jonas's "brave" and decisive action, could only nod in gratitude. "Thank you for your help, sir! We'll... we'll take it from here."
More guards arrived, cuffed the unconscious Victor, and dragged him away. Jonas watched him go. They can't hold a Stand user for long, he thought. He'll be back.
He then turned his attention... to the restroom with the jingling bells.
Inside the locked stall, Little Victor sat on the toilet lid, a hand cupped to his ear, his bell tinkling softly as he tried to decipher the chaos outside.
"What is taking so long?!" he hissed to himself.
"I hear... a scuffle. Did someone get hit? Was it my idiot brother... or just a passenger?"
"Pervert? Molester?... What in the world is that idiot doing?! Has his brain devolved to the level of a stray cat?!"
"Wait... a gun? He actually remembered to bring one this time? He didn't leave it in the hotel? Well, well... maybe you're not completely useless, my foolish frère."
"No... that was my brother's scream... Did he get beaten by the target? No, no... the target wouldn't risk it in a crowd... It's too noisy out there!"
He couldn't get a clear read. But he knew he couldn't leave the stall. His Stand was an ambush-type; it required him to remain hidden to be used at its full potential. He couldn't risk revealing himself.
Just then, the restroom's main door swung open. A new set of footsteps entered.
A tourist? Little Victor wondered.
The footsteps were heavy. Slow. Deliberate.
This person is tall. 190cm... 90kg... at least.
Little Victor's eyes widened, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
It... It's him! Jonas Jourdan!
The footsteps stopped, then started again, walking straight toward Little Victor's locked stall.
"Heh heh heh... Come right to me, you fool," he whispered, a cold, murderous aura filling the small space. "You've just given me the perfect chance to unleash my Stand!"
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Stand User: Victor
Stand Name: ??????
Destructive Power: —
Speed: —
Range: —
Stamina: —
Precision: —
Developmental Potential: —