Chapter 41: The One Ringing the Bell
With no one to warn him, Victor heard the familiar jingle and, brimming with a newfound confidence, slammed the restroom door open. The sound of the bells was clear, echoing in the tiled, opulent space.
A wave of relief washed over him. He was finally here. After all that humiliation, all that pain... he had made it. Now, just have to find little brother, he thought, a savage grin spreading across his bruised face. We'll combine our powers... and then, Jonas... I'll make you pay! I'll make you kneel and lick the filth off my shoes!
"JONAS! PREPARE TO DIE!"
The bell was coming from the last stall. He rushed toward it, his heart pounding with anticipation.
"Brother!" he yelled, kicking the stall door open. "I'm finally here!"
The scene inside made his blood run cold and his bladder almost let go.
Perched on the toilet, like some grotesque gargoyle, was [Invisible Black Monster: Oni]. In its black-gloved hand, it was casually jingling Little Victor's bell.
"OH! SxxT!" Victor screamed. "WHY IS IT YOU?! WHERE IS MY BROTHER?!"
A horrifying, unthinkable possibility slammed into his brain.
He... he's already dead!
This... this thing ... it killed him! And it took his bell!
A volcanic, white-hot rage erupted from the depths of his soul. Beautiful memories of their childhood together—scamming, stealing, setting small fires—flashed before his eyes like a tragic film. His eyes burned, and a hot, angry tear traced a path through the grime on his face.
"JO-NAS JOUR-DAN! YOU BASTARD!" he roared, his voice cracking with grief. "I'LL AVENGE MY BROTHER!"
He focused his will, pouring all his rage and spirit into a single command. A phantom shape, a shimmering distortion in the air, began to materialize behind him.
BU-GOM!
Before the Stand could even take form, a solid black fist connected with Victor's face, snapping his head back with a sickening crack. The sheer, brutal force of the blow sent him flying backward, smashing him into a porcelain urinal, which shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.
He hit the floor, and the broken pieces of the urinal rained down on top of him. His nascent Stand... faded.
"Damn it!" he spat, pushing the debris off himself. "He won't even give me a chance to summon my Stand!"
He knew the iron-clad rule: only a Stand could fight a Stand. He had to summon it!
He tried again, focusing... but [Oni] was already there. A black boot flashed out, kicking him square in the head. It was the same attack Jonas had used, delivered by his Stand with merciless, cold precision.
Victor's world exploded in a flash of white. His ears rang. He was done.
As Victor's screams echoed out of the restroom, the crowd in the terminal flinched, but no one moved to help. They had all seen the blood-soaked, crazed man run in. Who would be stupid enough to follow?
Jonas watched the scene, a look of mild disappointment on his face. Good grief. Not a single hero in the bunch. Not even his partner? At least Hol Horse had the guts to run. His plan to lure the other assassin out seemed to be a failure.
In the crowd, Little Victor's hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists, his eyes burning with a venomous hatred for Jonas. How dare he! How DARE he fight back!
We were the assassins! We were the ones supposed to be in control! But this man... this Jonas... he was more ruthless, more brutal than they could have ever imagined!
Who's the villain here?! he screamed internally.
The muffled, wet thuds and agonized cries from the restroom were like a dagger in his own heart. He may have called his brother a useless idiot, but he... he loved him!
You... YOU MONSTER, JONAS! Why couldn't you just cooperate?! Sure, my brother and I... we've killed! We've robbed! We've extorted! We even kick over doggy bowls! But that's just to... to survive! Why couldn't you just stick your head out and let us kill you?!
He couldn't take it anymore. He had to save him.
Little Victor burst from the crowd and marched toward the restroom.
Jonas, who had been waiting for this, stepped into his path, his face a mask of polite concern. "Whoa there, monsieur. There's a dangerous lunatic in there. Are you sure you want to go in?"
Little Victor flinched, but quickly composed himself, pointing to the flight attendant uniform he wore. "I'm... I'm airport staff. It's my duty to handle this."
"How brave," Jonas said, his voice laced with biting sarcasm. "But if you open that door, he might rush out and harm one of us... innocent bystanders. Unless... you have some other reason you absolutely must go in?"
The question hit Little Victor like a physical blow. He knew he was caught. But he had to try!
Just as he was about to fabricate another lie, [Oni] materialized at Jonas's side.
Is this it? Little Victor thought, his heart pounding. Is he going to test me?
[Oni] stepped directly in front of him. Black particles swarmed its hand, forming a short, razor-sharp blade. Cold sweat instantly drenched Little Victor's back, but he held his ground, his face an impassive mask.
"The airport security is on their way," Little Victor said, his voice miraculously steady. "But I just remembered... the window in that restroom is broken. That madman could escape onto the tarmac. I must secure the room."
"Ah, an excellent point," Jonas said, smiling. "A true professional. Go on, then. Just... be careful."
Jonas stepped aside, letting him pass. But as Little Victor walked by, [Oni] fell in behind him, its newly formed blade pressed gently, almost imperceptibly, against the back of his neck.
Little Victor's eye twitched.
This... this bastard! He knew. Jonas knew everything. He was being tested, and he was failing. He couldn't move, he couldn't act... he couldn't even flinch without revealing that he could feel the Stand's blade.
He stopped.
After a long, agonizing silence, Little Victor slowly turned around. "You... you are right, monsieur," he said, forcing a calm he did not feel. "It is too dangerous. For the safety of the passengers... it is best to wait for the armed guards."
He backed away, defeated.
Sorry, brother. It's not that I don't want to save you... but the enemy...
He's just too cunning.