#thenihilistofthevoid

“Incredible…” Kaito thought as he observed the summon and sealing jutsu, their target stood no chance. He was clearly impressed; it was either a very advanced jutsu or one made by the user. Then again, Kaito did invent some unique jutsu for himself.

“Good work,” he said. “I don’t know how much chakra that took, shall we do the extraction here or back at headquarters?”

@thenihilistofthevoid sent - Oh dear, he's missed Kiss Ryuji Day. Shameful, simply shameful... Better make up for lost time as he smooches Ryuji on the cheek. "Sorry, I got stuck at the back of the queue... Hope it was worth the wait." Saburo smiled.

The quiet moment was interrupted when the whole structure lurched, a screeching of tearing metal and the ship shook, Saburo lost his footing and clung to the railing, grunting as the metal railing smashed into his ribs. "What the hell was that?" He swore, panic in his abyssal black eyes for a moment.

Racing out onto the front of the ship, fearful they'd hit something, Saburo stopped still and stared at the scene before him. It took a moment for it to hit before racing over, several sailors were dead, riddled with holes. "Jotaro!" He shouted, investigating the bodies. It took a moment to collate the information, the dings in the infrastructure to figure out where it had come from.

"There's no spent casings, no bullets in the bodies I can find. Nobody turned towards the shooter, the ones further away would have had time, he'd have had to re-aim. We also would have heard the discharge of a firearm this close, the spray looks like some sort of machine gun or assault rifle based on the number of wounds on them." Speaking aloud was how he categorised it. "So, either it happened so quickly and quietly they didn't notice, or... They couldn't see their killer at all."

The sentence made his blood run cold as Radio Gaga appeared beside him, Saburo's neck ran with cold sweat as he ran towards Jotaro. "I think we're in terrible trouble. There's no vibration through the deck and we're dead in the water, so the engines have been sabotaged deliberately." He had to control his breathing, look for what didn't make sense. His eyes had gone hard, calculating in that way when there was danger and he looked into Jotaro's eyes for some sort of plan, anything he missed from his quick assessment.

A lot had happened in the years following DIO's demise.

He'd gone back to school, finishing up the high school era - luckily gaining a diploma that indicated he'd passed with flying colors. Being college worthy, that was. Jotaro had told his mother that he'd wanted to go into college to study, once she was doing better health wise, and thankfully Holly had recovered with ease. His father had been nowhere in sight during all of the chaos and danger, to which the Joestar had mentally cursed the man out himself. Made a note to do so should he ever see Sadao's face again.

But then, that never happened. When his father returned home from the tour, the man had been caring in his own way, opting to stay home for his wife. Jotaro didn't care if he stayed for them both, because he was going to be going off to college. The biggest concern that the younger held on to was his mother's loneliness that would soon happen once both her husband and son had gone off. Watching Holly putter around the house, often plastering a smile upon her features to show that she wasn't bothered much, though he'd known better than that.

When he left to go to America, he'd ended up married and with a child. And now, it was 96, Marina and himself were split but both were going through a trial to see if they could work out their problems together. The more Jotaro had stayed away, the harder that was becoming though he did try. As much as he was allowed to do so given the circumstances.

His work within the marine biology field along with the Speedwagon Foundation had kept him away. And for that, he would always regret being away from his daughter, Jolyne. It was the fact that DIO still had followers out there that were absolutely insane enough to hide in the shadows, lurking and watching his every move.

The fact that his daughter could be used against him, get hurt even, was terrifying to him.

“Right. You’ve dragged us halfway across the world for a chat, so what do you lot actually want? You don’t normally ring people up for tea and a gossip about your nan, so summat’s up, and whatever it is, you need me for it.”

He flicked at the lighter, swore when it wouldn’t catch, then got a spark at last and took a drag.

“So what’s that bad you’ve had to drag me over from Cottonopolis for it, then? What can’t you lot sort yourselves?”

He checked his phone again. Still nothing from Tim, which was odd. They weren’t joined at the hip over messages, but Tim usually got back to him. Saburo set the phone down and gave the lot of them another look.

Young Justice.

Because giving teenagers superhero responsibilities was obviously a cracking idea, thought up by the same spandex-wearing pricks who made the first lot. They’d built themselves a little club for their kids, their sidekicks, and whoever else kept hanging round the edges.

Jason slowly followed the others in. Cassie, Connor, Bart, Greta, Cissi, and Slobo. He looked up quietly as the others all stood around, giving him the cold shoulder. The redhead hung his head as he knew this was just going to be another time he was expected to stay quiet and just let the older heroes talk.

Cassie spoke first, a sad smile at Saburo. “Hey Saburo. Sorry it’s been so long, the team has kind of been in turmoil in recent months. A lot has happened with us. As I am sure it has with you.” She began.

Connor adjusted his sun glasses. “She means we got the short end of the stick. Tim bit the dust and now we are baby sitters to this brat wonder when Batman has had enough of dealing with his incompetence.”

“Yeah. He is so slow at learning this detective thing. And Bruce barely waited before giving some new kid Tim’s role.” Bart hissed.

Slobo just nodded, his head in agreement. Still not really having much to say about this. Just knowing his friends didn’t like this kid was enough for him.

“We want you to try and bring Tim back from the dead.” Greta spoke. Her eyes not on Jason who still remained silent the entire time. “He is Robin, not this imposter. He is our friend, not this invader. He is our fearless leader, this is some kid playing dress up.”

@thenihilistofthevoid :

[tie.] sender binds receiver's wrists with rope / belt / tie / etc. + reverse ( For Esecuzione! Mista from Corzetti Contaldo ).

     𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐲. It was no secret to anyone that spending too much time with a certain group could lead to blossoming relationships of any and all types, though Mista hadn't foreseen his own personal case.

     Before Corzetti Contaldo, he kept everyone at arm length with a seemingly detached politeness, the exception was Pesci who he actually treated like a friend. This dynamic changed when Risotto had introduced said new member.

     Indeed, something had clearly changed. Otherwise, he wouldn't have Corzetti tied up to the metal bars of the bed. It had started as something playful before it escalated into something entirely different.

     ❝ You look kinda pathetic like this ❞, the brunette commented with a hint of amusement in his tone, as if he hadn't been the one to tie him up. Mista's right-hand moved from the bindings, slowly tracing a linear pattern on Corzetti's arm, and shoulder before hovering close his face.

     Index finger reached to lightly move aside some of his front hair to see his face. ❝ Wriggling like a worm ❞, dark eyes had an unexpected glint crinkling faintly at the corners as a smile curved his lips. His hand slid down to get a hold of his chin to keep him in place. To keep looking at each other. ❝ In a way, you look... kinda cute, too. It's a bit contradictory ❞.

@thenihilistofthevoid

     ( Prompt. / @thenihilistofthevoid ).

     𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐨 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞. The moment in which he had been scouted by the head of La Squadra di Esecuzione during his brief time in a cell, his fate had been sealed just like the ones of his future assigned targets. Risotto had been right in his judgement to pick him up like a stray dog, trained to become a weapon.

     Right now, however, his clothes were soaked in blood that had splattered across him due to causing lethal injuries from way too close. At least, this time only half belonged to Mista himself dark eyes glanced at his partner before sighing heavily, a bloodied hand coming to rest on his forehead.