maskormenacelogs | THROUGH THE PALE MOONLIGHT

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THROUGH THE PALE MOONLIGHT

WHO: Lunatic (

purgation) and Giorno Giovanna (

goldenlegacy)
WHERE: Heropa
WHEN: Night of December 4!!!
WHAT: A lunatic and a legend...what could possibly go wrong?
WARNINGS: GOSH GUYS SO VIOLENT but it's over so quickly lbr

[It's a quiet night. The city hums softly in the hours of her sleep—but the wicked never truly rest, so neither can justice.

Blue-green flames light up the sky and then flicker out as the costumed figure of Lunatic descends from darkened clouds. Landing atop the roof of a stout office building in downtown Heropa, he rises doll-like to his full height and approaches the building's edge. Lidless eyes regard the sights below: a mostly empty street, a few passing cars, and a handful of scattered pedestrians.

Harmless enough, right? Wrong.

If there is anything this world has taught Lunatic (or, more accurately, the man behind that horrific palm-print mask: Yuri Petrov) it's that evil is not only pregnant within the population of natives, but within the population of imPorts as well. Although some of the sinners present may be dormant and hiding, they still exist and they have not been made to atone for their transgressions.

If no one else will see to it that they do, then he must. He is no hero, of course...but who needs such weak-willed individuals, anyway?

A man to play judge, jury, and executioner will suffice, and that's all he has ever claimed to be. And, in the end, that is the only kind of person who can erase the evils of the world.

One such evil appears several minutes after Lunatic perches himself in wait atop that roof. The target is right on time, stalking a young woman down a dimly lit side street. Having done his research, Lunatic knows already how this story will unfold if left to heroes to handle. The girl will die an unnecessary death and her killer will walk in the light of day tomorrow, no one any the wiser to the atrocious act he has committed. The masked vigilante lifts a hand and, instantly, both it and the eyes of his mask catch fire. He will not let that be this night's ending.]

Your time has come, evil one...

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[Autumn nights in Florida are warmer than he's accustomed to - all mild air and breezes. It's early December - long past the warmth of summer, and Giorno doesn't even bother to wear a jacket. Instead, he makes his way through the nighttime streets in a pink variant of his normal outfit, his hair unbraided, drifting around his face in layered waves.]

[Clip-clop, his footsteps on the pavement. As it happens, hes been looking for an appropriate place to use for his gambling den - someplace neither too out of the way nor too obvious, with room for expansion if necessary. So far, his search has been more fruitless than not, so he makes his way toward his residence, already planning for the rest of his evening. Feed Zhenya. Bloom the flowers.]

[It's only once he's heard that voice - strange, inhuman, that he notices that shape, silhouetted against the sky above him. Talking to... who? Giorno narrows his eyes slightly, and...]

[A moment later, a tree has sprouted where no tree previously existed, strong and twisted, its branches carrying Giorno's weight as easily as they would carry a child's.]

[He leans forward slightly.]

...what are you doing?

[The voice behind Lunatic comes as enough of a surprise that his concentration upon his target is completely interrupted. The flames dancing around the edges of his mask's eyes and in the palm of his hand blink out and, craning his head to one side, he turns so that he might glimpse the one disturbing him from carrying out his goal.

A youthful face with bright and resolute eyes—curious eyes, much too curious—stares back at him.

But this boy...after a moment, Lunatic recognizes him. They've met face-to-face once before. On a day when imPorts were arriving, when the streets were busier than they are now, and when a little kitten had been wedged beneath the underside of a car. Yes, this is the same teen who rescued that stray. How coincidental the should find themselves near another alleyway the second time their paths should cross.]

You...

[He stops. Studies what he sees. But what exactly is he seeing?

That tree—it wasn't there a moment ago, Lunatic is certain of that. How could he have possibly missed a shape so gnarled and large it loomed above the building's roof?

It is dark, though. So...perhaps? It wouldn't be the first time his eyes have played tricks on him, after all.]

This doesn't concern you.

[He turns back toward the street below...but his quarry appears to be long gone. Only the woman can be seen far enough away that she remains oblivious to the danger she'd been in or the happenings upon the rooftop above.]

[For a long moment, Giorno doesn't move from his place on the tree - he sits within its branches like a king on a throne. And he raises an eyebrow, watching that masked figure turn, look back to the street. For the moment, at least, the opposite end of the room is outside Giorno's range of vision. So, he stands on the tree... and then lightly drops to the rooftop.]

[His step is casual, unhurried, as he makes his way to the edge and glances down to the street below. As it happens, all he can see is a single woman, walking alone, quickly disappearing in the distance.]

[He frowns.]

I must admit... it's a little difficult to commit to a lack of concern when I'm already here.

[He glances at the man - that is a man, right? It's hard to tell - sidelong.]

Again, I ask... what are you doing?

[Lunatic listens. He hears the soft sound of shoes settling behind him upon the rooftop and the fading footsteps of the woman from the alleyway, but that third pair—belonging to none other than the destructive man he'd set out tonight to find—they're gone. Of them, there is no trace, not even an echo. And all the scouring of the shadows from above reveals nothing, no indication whatsoever of what direction in which the man might have disappeared.

Was that Giorno's intention? To interfere? Lunatic wonders this as the young man comes to stand next to him. And, as Giorno peers over the edge of the building, Lunatic thinks for a second of how easy it would be for him to just reach over and eliminate this unwelcome interference by...

No.

No.

There's no need for that, to go to such extremes. He's not that kind of person, for one, and for another, Giorno...well, if he'd been deliberately trying to get in Lunatic's way, he'd have done more than ask a question and simply make a nuisance of himself, right? Those who are determined to get in the way of his idea of justice often do so bodily, forcing their hand like angry apes who know of no other way to settle things than by resorting to barbarism and spewing simple-minded and overly emotional tripe.

Chances are good Giorno really doesn't know what he's stumbled upon. But that doesn't make his unexpected presence any less aggravating.

Dragging the palm of his hand across his mask in a show of vexation, the vigilante shakes his head and steps away from the side of the building.]

Because of you...there will be no justice tonight.

[It's not exactly a straightforward answer, but...it is telling in its own way.]

[Perhaps a little too telling.]

[Giorno presses his lips together a little, and steps carefully onto the ledge of the roof. Below him, the street sprawls out in either direction, the woman disappears into shadow. And Giorno thinks back quickly - over the intel he's read, or watched, since his arrival. And then, snap, click, understanding dawns like the sun through the clouds.]

[He turns his head a little, taking in that. Outfit. Or at least the back of it.]

Lunatic?

[Interesting. He crosses his arms and turns to face Lunatic.]

What was your prey guilty of, then?

I assume it wasn't the woman. You could have still pursued her.

[So, the youth recognizes him? With the publicity Tattlecrime has provided up until now, and in addition to that, all of his more recent activities in the imPort community, perhaps it's no wonder. Word travels quickly, as tongues like to wag. Not that Lunatic prefers it any other way.

Even the wicked have rights, after all, and who is he to deny them? In the case of the criminals Lunatic seeks to punish, they all have the right to know when their executioner has come to cut them down. He has never been subtle with regards to his intention to do so, either. Not in Sternbild, and not here, this side of the Porter, either.]

What, you ask?

[He takes a few steps forward, toward the strange tree leaning over the other side of the building, and then stops.

He's certain it wasn't there before. But then, how did such a tall tree get there? Is Giorno responsible? It's the only explanation. The only one that makes sense, at least, though it raises more questions than it answers. What precisely is that boy's ability, he wonders, and is it limited to plant life alone? Curious, curious...

Head tilting back, he looks up at the twisted branches and then, reaching one gloved hand upwards, taps at a perfectly oval shaped leaf hovering above his head.]

You assume correctly. It was a man. He is guilty of the most unforgivable sin: murder.

[Giorno steps lightly from the ledge, feeling the light crunch of gravel under the soles of his shoes, the wind ruffling his hair. Above their heads, the sky is all black and moonlight with scattered stars, and the streetlamps cast spotlights on the street.]

[It's a simple thing, nighttime here in this world that seems, strangely, more surreal by the day to Giorno. Certainly he's long been accustomed to battles and superhuman abilities. But something about standing there, watching a man in that outfit - a man who had come to commit murder upon a murderer - is certainly a step stranger still.]

[Giorno steps closer, and then closer again. And when he draws near the tree, a small network of vines break through the rooftop and lift him back to its branches... which he then steps onto without missing a beat. Suspended there, he taps his finger against his cheek.]

If murder is the most unforgivable sin, then what are you going to do with yourself?

[It's a valid question, isn't it? He returns to his "seat," comfortably supported there, half-shielded from the wind.]

[For just a moment Lunatic stares at those vines, the myriad of thoughts and feelings he has concerning them invisible behind the mask he wears. Of course, a discerning individual might recognize the way his body stiffens briefly, as if contemplating whether or not they pose a threat, and an astute mind might be able to interpret that temporary stiffness as indication that he hadn't expected plant life to sprout from out of a rooftop of all places. But why should he have? What could the plants have possibly grown from...?

No matter. Either Giorno is offering hints about his abilities for some reason or other that he hasn't yet revealed or, as his outfit might suggest, he is all about pageantry and bravado. Time will tell, and Lunatic has plenty of that now, no thanks to this kid.]

The preoccupation with my fate you people demonstrate knows no bounds!

[It...almost sounds like those words are spoken with laughter. Even his shoulders shake briefly before he cranes his neck to one side, head tilting at a peculiar angle.

Yes, he's amused. How can he not be? He's lost track of the number of people who have asked him that question, as though expecting him not to have an answer, or to be unwilling to admit that he too will one day need to atone for what he's doing; as though somehow he hasn't realized that he's barely a step above those he hunts relentlessly with the intention to rub their miserable lives out of existence.]

My time will come, if that's what you're asking. But...that time is not today.

[Such a confident thing to say, isn't it? Or, perhaps, he's issuing a warning? It's almost as if he's saying, If you make yourself an obstacle, I won't hesitate to remove you.]

[Truth be told, the answer is neither, really - the use of his abilities on such a relatively minor level is as natural, as automatic, to him as breathing. He didn't want to climb, and so he didn't. Watching, however, he notes that stiffness - most likely analyzing the situation, or something like it. Or at least that's what Giorno himself would be doing.]

[He leans against a branch, using it as an armrest... and suddenly, the vines retract, spiraling backwards and then collapsing into nothingness.]

I apologize for being repetitive. Unfortunately, I wasn't present until a few weeks ago, so I missed your earlier adventures. I only wondered how far that "conviction" went.

In the end, that seems to be as complete an answer as one can expect at this time. But... it's a strange one, too.

[He calls them adventures? Lunatic rejects the word, knowing full well that his undertakings are so much more than mere adventures. To him, they are objectives and responsibilities, duties he cannot shirk for the sole fact that it is unlikely anyone else will rise to the occasion and resume his efforts in his stead.

Of course, thats all semantics and nothing worth arguing over.]

Oh? Such manners.

[Lunatic, in a showy and somewhat comical gesture, clasps his hands together before himself. He rocks forward and back on his feet, the long white cloak draped over his shoulders swaying to and fro with his movements.]

Very well, very well...I forgive you!

[Unclasping his hands, Lunatic wanders nearer that tree now that the vines have vanished. It looks like any ordinary tree would, though perhaps a little healthier than most...and more alive given the nature of Giorno's ability. But, it's still just a tree. Like most anything, it will burn if it makes contact with fire. Which is to say, for all Lunatic's playful mannerisms, the readiness to act one way or the other has not left his body.

Stepping carefully along, he finds himself skirting the building's edge again, opposite the side he'd been watching the woman and her stalker from, and directly next to Giorno and his tree. One pointy-toed boot hovers in the open air, stories above the sidewalk below...]

In any case, my answer is only strange if you expected something else. But for me, it is the only logical answer, and the only just one, besides. No one can outrun their sins forever, don't you think so...Giorno?

[Giorno, on the other hand, is all casual, all languid movements, as though he isn't at all face to face with a murderer. Well, its not the first time. And he leans back a bit, letting the lighter branches bend with his weight, fingers steepled before him.]

You know my name.

[Well, that's obvious. And a little strange - it isn't as though he's done a great deal to visibly distinguish himself from the crowds of imPorts - quite the contrary, in fact. Which means he's dealing with either someone he knows personally... or someone very observant. Or both, of course.]

[...]

[Well, he can rule out any of the Joestar clan - the build is all wrong.]

If you consider your actions to be justice... then why would you condemn yourself? Is it any different than a government's support for capital punishment?

In the end, a death sentence is a death sentence... regardless of who carries it out.

Edited 2014-12-03 04:39 (UTC)

So I do! But maybe that's all I know about you?

[It's not, of course, but what he does know is hardly of any consequence. Giorno has thus far managed to keep off Lunatic's radar. He had seemed briefly suspicious during their first encounter, but those suspicions were effectively assuaged that same day when it became apparent to Yuri that he had no more reason to suspect the young man of unlawful activity.

But things are a little different now.

Perhaps there is a different reason to keep an eye on this youth going forward? Not due to any possibility for criminal behaviors, nor because of his particular brand of power—even though it remains interesting in that it is unique in his experience—but rather due to the sharpness of the young man's mind and his pesky inquisitiveness.

Such things left unchecked can quickly become a wrench in the works.]

Anyway...you're overlooking something vital! I don't believe I ever said that my sin has anything to do with the criminals I've been punishing.

[Which it doesn't. He has no regrets regarding the sinners he has brought to justice—not those in Sternbild, and not those in this world, either. Their faces aren't the ones that still haunt him to this day. No...there is only one whose ghostly image lingers behind closed eyes and open alike, disturbing his conviction and shaking him to his very core. That man is the only person he's taken the life of that was not responsible for killing another. That man hadn't been a criminal, he'd been a hero who had fallen from grace.

Which made the evils he was responsible for all the more despicable...]

Hmm...but what's it to you?

That doesn't seem likely. If you know my name, then you've either met me - in a maskless state - or have taken note of me for one reason or another. Therefore! I'm sure you know more about me than that.

Besides... [dramatic pause!] ...if nothing else, you now know about my Phytokinesis.

Even if that were literally the only thing you knew... it would still be more than simply my name.

{Giorno watches him, quietly. And he isn't. Afraid. Isn't nervous. He wonders, sometimes, if there is anything that can make him feel fear now, or even anxiety - save for that one thing. In any case, it's hardly unusual for him to stare down an assassin - God knows enough of them work for him.]

But yes... you're right. I did overlook that possibility. I apologize for that as well - it was short-sighted of me.

[And as for what it is to him...]

In any case, I'm only curious. Just as I'm curious as to what level of crime you believe deserves such harsh treatment. What about pickpockets? Bank robbers?

I'm interested.

I suppose you're right, if you want to nitpick. Besides, I also know that you're a nuisance! How wonderful, don't you also think so? That I know you so well already, and that communication between us comes so naturally! It's almost like we could be friends.

[Someone's sarcasm is potent tonight!

But it melts away quickly, replaced with a thick air of disdain, not unlike the sort Lunatic often feels towards others.]

Hmph...apologies. [The vigilante pushes off the rooftop and propels himself across the gap between the building they are standing atop and the one across the narrow street.] I'm not offended by your shortsighted observation, so keep such empty concessions to yourself.

[As he lands upon the new ledge across the way, he glances back over his shoulder at Giorno. A willing audience?]

I'll answer your question. I don't exist to chase petty thieves and thugs. The authorities can deal with their ilk...unless they cross that unforgivable line and take the life of another. And when that time comes...so too will the time for those people to atone.

Aren't we feeling piquant!

[Well, that might be a bit too generous. Giorno's face steadfastly refuses to change, however - no disdain, no fear, not even the curiosity he professes to feel.]

Still, that's good to know. I'd hate to see petty criminals being punished disproportionately.

[Well, he'd hate to have to get into a brawl with this person just because he likes to steal people's wallets, anyway.]

Still. A person like that... they never atone. Not even in death.

Perhaps I'd be feeling differently if you hadn't disturbed me? But if you'd rather we hold hands and set differences aside...

[That mask never changes shape, but at the right angle, and in the right lighting, the open mouth with its teeth bared almost seems to grin when Lunatic holds up his hand and a ball of swirling flame dances in his palm. Though it touches his gloves, it does not burn through them, not that it lasts for much more than a second, of course. As quickly as it appeared, the blue-green fire is snuffed out beneath the fingers of a clenched fist.]

I think you know as well as I, it wouldn't be justice if people were punished unduly.

[He's not unnecessarily cruel, prides himself on his impartiality, in fact. Even while his fire burns ferociously, it also consumes so quickly that its victims know almost no suffering at all. Not quite a mercy...but it's damn near close, and it's definitely more than what some people deserve.]

But what would you know about people like that, I wonder?

I'm more than happy to avoid the holding of hands.

[Giorno watches that ball of flame, face unchanging, mildly thrumming his fingers against his knee.]

In any case, I know more about that kind of person than you'd think.

[He presses his lips together just slightly, thinking of Cioccolato, and of Polpo. Sadists and users. People who killed for sport, or for personal gain. How disgusting.]

Personally, I don't believe in violence or killing when those things are unwarranted. But of course, what warrants such action can depend on perspective.

...well, anyway, that's another topic altogether.

You wound me. I thought we were so close.

[With a shrug, Lunatic drops the act. Occasionally he finds it amusing to jeer at those he encounters, their reactions more than making it worth his while, but Giorno isn't like most people. Not only does he not react very much, but...he has something more interesting to say than most, too!

Interesting enough to hold Lunatic's attention a little longer, at least.]

Oh? Have you crossed paths with many people like that? [Or perhaps Giorno is himself such a person? Lunatic is more curious by the minute.] Not many people like admitting they believe in capital punishment.

[He eyes the cutout shape upon the breast of the young man's accouterments and then, as he turns properly to face Giorno once again, places his hand over top his own costume where that shape would be.]

It takes a stout heart—or an evil one. Which is yours?

If I said I had an evil heart, would you try to kill me?

[That's the first time his expression changes - a tiny smile, more mysterious than mocking. Beyond that, he seems... cold, more than anything else. But then, he usually does.]

If you said you had an evil heart...no. But I'd ask to see it.

[The proof is in the pudding, after all. Or, in this case, the meaty beating lump that hides in peoples' chests behind protective bone prisons, beneath sinew curtains and skin blankets.]

And if I see it...

[Lunatic lifts his arm, all fingers but his index and thumb curling in towards the center of his palm. He aims. And a straight bolt of fire whizzes past Giorno's ear.]

Bang.

[Well, that's interesting. Giorno turns his head slightly to watch it zoom once it passes his head. And somehow it doesn't hit the tree - that's even more interesting. Either he has extremely good aim, or he's capable of controlling the fire remotely.]

I'm glad to see your decisions are measured. In any case, I'd like to think my heart is not as dark as all that.

[Perhaps not as bright and shiny as some of his 'adopted' family's side, but certainly not as dark as some he's run across in the past. And speaking of them, and his belief in capital punishment, so to speak...]

I wouldn't hold a belief that I didn't have the stomach to admit to. Doing something like that evidences a lack of moral fortitude!

And what about the stomach to commit to?

[Is he probing? He's probing. But that's Giorno's fault! The things he's saying are making him a point of interest. Not a target, no...not yet. Maybe not ever if he's careful enough! But still...someone worth keeping an eye on. Paying attention to. Bantering with?

...well, maybe not quite that far.]

If one can't follow through on their own conviction, one should not hold it.

[No hesitation, no wavering. Giorno glances at the sky, watching the clouds drift in lazy wisps over the moon.]

That's the nature of a true "belief." There's nothing more useless than a moral platitude.

[Interesting. Very interesting!

But without proof of a crime...

Lunatic's hand falls back to his side almost lazily, the cloak around his shoulders settling once more over his front, its length concealing most of his costume from view.]

I commend your commitment to justice, Giorno Giovanna...but remember this: I will not hesitate when the time comes. If you take a life, you will pay for it with your own.

[It's not that he wants to punish people, or even Giorno specifically. If he did, why issue a warning at all? But no matter which way Lunatic looks at it, people are heinous. Their wills, like their minds, spirits, and hearts, are weak. Humanity as a whole is given to being ugly and immoral, cruel and rotten to the core. Even those with the purest of intentions...

Even they stand in the way of true justice from time to time. Even they sin. It's always just a matter of time.]

Be cautious where your true nature takes you...lest you find yourself in the pits of Hell.

I would, of course, expect you to follow your own "beliefs" to the end. If you ever feel the need to kill me, you may as well make the attempt.

[He bows his head slightly, if only for a moment.]

Of course, I can't promise to return the favor. In the case of a man dedicated to avenging wrongs... if one does not insult the life of the innocent, I have no quarrel with them.

Of course, I recognize my dearth of innocence. And I don't feel insulted, either way.

[The attempt, he says, as though it's a question of whether or not Lunatic will succeed should he desire to make good on his claims—Lunatic can't help noticing that, and it's hard not to respect that level of confidence, misplaced or otherwise.]

Are you confessing?

[He couldn't be, could he? Unless he thinks it safe to do so for having misinterpreted what Lunatic had meant regarding evil hearts? It was, after all, a very different thing to say one's heart was plagued by evil than it was to divulge the ways in which it was evil. The latter is all Lunatic truly needs to turn a person into a mark.

Especially here, where people think they can put their wretched past behind him, where they think they can bury the skeletons in their closets or escape the ghosts they've helped create... In this place, Lunatic's idea of justice is the only sort that will provide retribution—and in this place, it is needed more than ever. This business of allowing criminals to pretend to be heroes, of sweeping their misdeeds under the rug...it cannot be permitted.]

I am asking you...have you already taken a life, Giorno Giovanna? Or perhaps...multiple lives?

[He could, in fact. It's just a question of whether or not he will.]

[He turns the thought over in his mind a few times. To him, it isn't even a confession, not really, only a statement of truth. If someone is despicable - if they are a blight upon the world - then there's no reason to spare them when brought into conflict with them.]

[Doing anything else only causes more problems later.]

[Of course, if he does say the words, the chances are high that he'll end up in a battle, which he hasn't done so far in this world. More than anything else, he wonders whether it's worth revealing too much of his ability.]

[Then again, how much does he really care about that?]

[He taps the side of his face a few times.]

No one who wasn't trying to kill me, as well. And no one you wouldn't have killed, yourself.

If that is offensive, then be offended and do as you like. As I said... I can tolerate your judgment, and spare you my own.

[Well, well...

Perhaps tonight won't be an empty-handed night after all?]

If what you say is true, your actions have gone beyond mere self-defense.

[And straight into the territory deserving of punishment. Such a shame, he thinks. But perhaps...he should have known? Should have trusted his first instinct instead of permitting a veil to be pulled down over his eyes.

Not that it would have made much of a difference. He hadn't known then what he knows now. And now that he knows...]

I see now the nature of your heart. [But although Giorno sounds reasonable, will he willingly accept his fate? Somehow...Lunatic doesn't think so. He doesn't know a single person alive (because Yomiel is a ghost and does not count) who actually wants to do and is willing to atone for their sins.] It is your time, then. Giorno Giovanna—Hear the voice of Thanatos!

[It happens in an instant: flames consume the cloak draped over Lunatic's shoulders and burst from the eyes of his mask. From the palms of his hands two large and blue-green spheres are launched not only at Giorno, but at the tree in which he's enthroned upon.

It ought to make a fitting coffin.]

[In an instant, Giorno is no longer in the tree, or indeed, especially close to the tree. Instead, he's floating some yards away, suspended in the air by Gold Experience's power... though, judging by the lack of a Stand hovering beside his assailant, that wouldn't be visible to Lunatic.]

[The first thing he thinks of is the collateral damage. He's not familiar with the nature of Lunatic's flames, but for the moment all he can do is assume they work normally - which means they'll spread. So, first, a distraction - he erects a wall of vines which burst from the rooftop to wrap themselves around Lunatic's body. They won't last long, of course - not at all. But long enough.]

[He drops to the ground, where the tree's roots have appeared in the pavement, and presses his fingers to the bark.]

[It takes perhaps a second or two, feeling the pulse of life rush through the plant's bulk, speeding its life cycle. And he can feel the wood beneath his touch growing old, growing dry, and then withering, withering... and collapsing into nothing.]

[No fuel, then. Nothing at all.]

[He looks up, bracing himself for the next attack - will Lunatic drop to the ground, or attack from above?]

[Time to see!]

[There isn't much time between the moment Lunatic hears the concrete of the roof beneath him beginning to crack and the moment when the vines actually burst free. For the moment, all of that is more important than however Giorno is holding himself up in the air. (Levitation? Telekinesis?) He makes an attempt at escape, launches himself with a quick kick into the air, but it's not fast enough and those thin, gnarled limbs wrap around him tight. So...tight.

An effective distraction. The flames he had hurled at Giorno and the tree don't last, but is it because his focus was interrupted or because Giorno withers the tree itself and destroys the target? Or, perhaps, is it more to the fact that the target has changed?

All around him the vines light up. Charred pieces fall away, crumble and catch on the wind, and Lunatic? Once he's free, he definitely thinks better of fighting Giorno from the ground. He launches another attack from above, oh, but this time it practically rains down, shot after shot dancing across the street in the young man's direction, pouring over the place the tree previously stood before—somehow—it was withered into nothingness with a touch.

Can't get too close.]

[From above then. Giorno launches himself upward, Gold Experience holding him aloft. And he dodges the flames when he can - when he can't, he lets the flames singe his skin - something to fix later when he has more time.]

[He returns to the roof then, hovering a few inches off of the ground, even as Gold Experience launches itself through the air between them. Crossing the distance at a speed no normal human count match, invisible and silent to Lunatic's ears.]

I promised that I would withhold the ultimate judgment. I did not promise to be gentle.

In the end, attempts to burn me away are useless...

[And then his Stand is there, right before Lunatic's unseeing eyes.]

...useless...

[And then a single strike to the side of that masked head. Gold Experience's fist crackles with life energy.]

...useless!

[And then comes a barrage of blows, aimed directly at Lunatic's entire upper body. Where they land, or don't... who knows!]

[That evil should be equipped with such speed is nothing short of infuriating. Darkened hearts, after all, are the least deserving of supernatural abilities. In the end, in the hands of those stained by blood, such power is always abused. Giorno, Lunatic sees, is no exception to the rule.

He's brave, though. Charging headlong into the rain of fire, whipping and weaving past the blazing blue-green bolts that stick, scorch and spread rapidly, it's as though Giorno knows no fear. Thinks himself a hero. Thinks himself untouchable. Thinks himself unconquerable...but even heroes fall. Even legends fall. There is no man who possesses a heart so unclouded that he himself can escape judgment!
No man.

If there is anything Lunatic knows for certain—anything Yuri has learned over the course of his many years—it is that his fire can purify anything. The incessant useless, useless, useless from Giorno is just that—incessant noise!

Not something Lunatic takes seriously as he prepares another attack.

Prepares, but cannot see that Giorno has already launched his own.

Can't see at all, not a damn thing besides that young man with those determined, cocksure eyes, that set jaw, a perfect target standing there and waiting—

—and then it hits him!

Something hits him! Hard, fast, jarring, out of nowhere, and Giorno hasn't budged an inch, hasn't moved, can't be the cause of that rattling, startling, familiar CRRRAAACK—but who else could it be? Who else!? WHO ELSE!?

He knows only one thing. He can't let it happen again. If he must pull out all the stops for a mere child, so be it. There is no hesitancy within him, for he knows what he must do. It is the only thing he can do, for he is the only one willing to do it. He shall not turn a blind eye to this, and though he considers himself to be the furthest thing from a hero, is determined not to let anyone else fall into this trap, to fall before such a harmless looking monster.

It's always the ones you least expect...the gentle ones who are giants on the inside. Vicious, ruthless, cold and calculating giants.

Maybe it's adrenaline, maybe it's his sense of purpose, but in the moments that follow—and it feels like there are so many of them!—Lunatic doesn't stop. His flames propel him higher, faster, out of reach of whatever it was that struck him, or so he hopes, and from up high he can see much more clearly. From his left hand he launches a blazing arc that rips through the space between himself and Giorno at an impossible speed. From his right hand, a stream of fire flows. The gravel and tar upon the building's roof catches fire as soon as the arc licks across its surface, a broad circle forming around Giorno. The boy himself? The bull's-eye in the very center. And the stream of fire? An arrow that will not miss its mark...]

[...that should not miss its mark?

But...no! No! NO! He was so certain, saw it so clearly with his own eyes, that young man's figure about to be consumed by fire. It was justice! But now, so suddenly, it is as though nothing has changed.

No, that's not right, either. Something has changed, because he can't move. Hasn't moved at all. There is no fire surrounding Giorno, and the pain he felt after having been struck by some invisible force, it's wrecking havoc through his jaw. Through the air he can see them, bits and pieces of mask as they flake away, and the air, the late night Florida air that brushes his newly bared flesh, it feels so cold even though he knows it should be warm. Cold because he can feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and cold because he can feel the fear rising within him.

Fear. Real fear. Potent fear. It grips like a devil's claw and seizes his heart. Squeezes. Relentless and unforgiving and he's not sure if it's a side-effect of that invisible thing or if it's a product of his own mind, but it's there. As real as the sweat. As real as the shards of his mask slipping away. As real as the hand he holds out in the air before him that refuses to obey his will...

It seems to last forever. On and on and on and on it goes, the suspension, the helplessness, the not knowing what will come next until suddenly everything is moving again, whipping, whirling around him, rushing so fast he can't keep up and there is more pain, an explosion of it taking hold of his body even before it

CRASHES

down
down

d
o
w
n

hitting something hard
something metal and cold and unyielding
tasting something metal and warm against his lips and on his tongue...

and he's not

even sure

what just happened.

BUT FUCK GIORNO FUCKING GIOVANNA.]

[He feels the sting of flames that burned his skin, and there are parts of his clothing missing now - burned away and blown off on the wind. But Giorno himself remains, as always, calm faced, sure. He drops to the roof, but Gold Experience still lingers near Lunatic, out of sight - pale gold in the moon's glow.]

All I have done, I've done with a clear heart and light conscience. There are no regrets. I reject your "judgment."

[He drops his head slightly as he steps forward once, twice... crossing the short distance between them. And he keeps the weight of the Arrow in his mind, in case of another attack - in case of something he needs to respond to in a more extreme manner...]

And if there is any force that can turn back the call of Thanatos... may that force be... "Life!"

[...but now, this close, he can see the cracks in that motionless face, and he knows they're probably done.]

[Gold Experience floats away from Lunatic and rests behind Giorno, arms draped over his shoulders like a lover.]

Even so. "Mercy" is the prerogative of the victor, Lunatic. And this is mine.

[He raises his head, and lifts once again from the gravelly roof, floating away from the building...]

[Though, notably, without turning his back.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

THROUGH THE PALE MOONLIGHT

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SORRY SO SHORT!

NO NEVER ANY TAG FROM YOU IS GLORIOUS

OH GOSH

OOPS MY TURN FOR SHORT LOOK I CAN DO IT

LUNATIC HAS CRAZY EYES

ALL CRAZY ALL 4 U

kansdbjkasd

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