Wanderlust [Stardust Crusader]

Chapter 14

As the clang echoed through the room, you jolted awake, sitting up too quickly and feeling the dull ache in your head intensify. Before you could fully comprehend your surroundings, the door swung open, revealing a figure with a certain silvery top, his infamous smirk stretching across his face.

"Well, well, look who's decided to join the land of the living," he drawled, sauntering into the room with an air of smugness.

"Where am I? In some twisted version of wonderland? Can't imagine you playing the role of a rabbit," you muttered, still feeling disoriented as he shot you a glare, his eyes narrowing at your words.

"We're in the hospital, smart pants," Polnareff stated with a frown, his gaze softening as he fully took in your vulnerable state. "You fainted after absorbing the energy of the enemy stand. Berlusconi called a doctor to check your vitals."

"Idiot, what possessed you to counter mindlessly? And what's the deal with your stand? It emerged when Mr. Joestar was nearly hit with a ray and absorbed all the heat in a matter of minutes," he continued, but your attention drifted to a fuzzy sound in the distance, like a clanking window. The weight of consciousness flooded your mind with an aching heaviness.

"Are you even listening?" Polnareff's voice dripped with irritation, breaking through your haze. You hadn't realized he was speaking until you felt an insistent prodding against your side. Grumbling softly under your breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, then opened them wide in an effort to stay awake.

"Yeah, I hear you," you replied wearily, rubbing your eyes to clear the fog. "And look, I don't have all the answers myself." Sighing in exasperation, you scratched your arm, a nervous habit surfacing in moments of uncertainty. "I'm too famished to figure it out right now, Mr. Jean Pierre Polnareff."

"I want a bucket of fried chicken and a bottle of cola if you want to continue conversing with me. I'm a busy person, after all," you declared, but before you could finish, Polnareff shoved a middle finger in your face and huffed in frustration.

"Goodness, you are such a... I don't even know what to call you!" he exclaimed, turning to leave. "I should probably leave before I throw you out of the building," he muttered under his breath.

You chuckled at his retreating form and began to sing quietly to yourself as your eyes roamed around the room. Your voice had a rough edge to it, like metal scraping across pavement-not ear-splitting, but not pleasant either. Pausing for a moment, you glanced at the fruits on the side table and noticed something attached to the basket. Curiously, you reach for the small piece of paper and read it aloud.

You stared at the note in confusion, but shrugged it off, assuming Anne had left it there as a thoughtful gesture. Smiling to yourself, you looked forward to teasing her about it when she returned. Settling onto the sterile hospital bed, you stretched out your arms, trying to relieve some of the nervous tension. Your fingers danced on the wooden oak surface as you reached for the freshly cut fruits.

As you enjoyed the snack, your thoughts wandered. "Nothing seems particular in this place," you mused. However, your nose scrunches in disgust when a faint but unmistakable scent of blood and pus seeps through the veil of antiseptic. The sterile atmosphere couldn't fully mask the underlying discomfort of being in a hospital.

You continued eating, savoring the sweet juiciness of the fruit, but paused midway when you felt a sudden burning sensation on the undefinable space on your throat. It felt like a prickling heat, spreading slowly and ominously, causing you to wince in pain.

The air around you shifted suddenly, becoming heavy and damp, pressing against your skin like a clammy shroud. It felt suffocating, as if invisible hands were wrapping around your throat. Your vision began to blur, the world around you morphing into a hazy mix of light and dark, color and shadow, making everything indistinct and surreal.

You struggled to get out of bed, crawling toward the door with desperation clawing at your insides. But no matter how hard you tried, the way ahead seemed imposing, looming like a gateway to hell itself. Each inch you moved felt like an eternity, and a sense of unease continued to gnaw at your senses, leaving you unsettled and afraid.

As you attempted to push forward once more, you found yourself unable to move. It was as if invisible chains were binding you in place, trapping you in this nightmarish limbo. Panic surged through you, and you attempted to call out for your stand, but something was gripping it, tearing at its energy and leaving you defenseless.

The bitter cold of the room seemed to intensify, numbing your feeble body and sending pulses of pure agony coursing through you. Amidst the pain, you could hear footsteps echoing from beyond the door. Someone was talking, their voice carrying a strange cadence, lifting into a crescendo before every pause, sending shivers down your spine.

"Target acquired," The words echoed ominously in the room. You strained to make sense of the situation, but the haze of confusion and fear clouded your thoughts.

With a sinking feeling, you realized that you were the target, but for what purpose? Who or what was targeting you, and why? Questions swirled in your mind, each one more terrifying than the last.

As the footsteps drew closer, the air seemed to crackle with tension, thickening with an oppressive weight that made it difficult to breathe. Every instinct screamed at you to flee, but you were paralyzed, trapped in a place from which there seemed to be no escape.