Chapter Text
It wasn’t your preference to fight in close quarters, but every now and then there was an occasion where one couldn’t get what they wanted, no matter how perfectly they executed their plan. Such was the case, this unfortunately muggy Monday evening, when you found yourself staring down a stranger dressed in the most ridiculous outfit you had ever seen: a faded yellow tunic and chaps over olive green pants and undershirt, with a cowboy hat and spurs to match. The grin plastered on his face inspired naught else but fury in you for the interruption, promptly reaching for the knife bound to your thigh and lunging.
You didn’t know who this man was or how he’d found you, but he’d interrupted a particularly lucrative job that would have paid for a nice vacation— And then some. The look on his face suggested he hadn’t been told much about you, though, as he attempted to scramble out of your path. You were smaller and quicker, however, and before he could get a word out, he was flat on his back, hat knocked aside, with the business end of your small blade pressing into his throat.
“Woah, woah, woah!” The man’s composure had been cracked, and you could hear the nervousness creeping into his voice. “Come on now, I haven’t even said anything yet!”
You dug your knee into his chest. Squirming, the man tried to grasp for any sort of relief from the pressure. “You’ll tell me who sent you— They’ve gotta have some real balls if they’re getting in the middle of my work.”
“I was going to— Ack! Would you let up with the knife?! I was going to tell you that!”
Narrowing your eyes, you pressed the knife just a tad bit more before releasing him, and drawing yourself to your feet. You did not offer the man a hand up, instead moving off back towards the ledge of the building to look out on the city below. Luckily, your target hadn’t appeared yet— Perhaps you’d have time to deal with this goon after all.
The man seemed to have gotten his composure put back together once he’d gotten to his feet and retrieved his hat from the ground. You sent a glare his way as he moved closer, though it went ignored as he leaned on the ledge next to them and pulled two cigarettes from his pocket, holding one out as if to offer a truce. After a moment, you took it.
“A man named DIO sent me here to recruit you,” he began, lighting his cigarette. You leaned forward slightly to have yours lit as well, releasing a puff of smoke into the air. The taste left much to be desired, but you listened as your eyes returned to the streets to look for your target. The man hesitated before continuing. “He’s got a pretty stack of cash lined up that probably makes whatever you’re getting now look like pocket change.”
That got your attention. Eyes flicking back towards the cowboy, you nodded your head to affirm your interest, and took another drag from the cigarette before peering back down at the streets. The building your target was supposed to come out of had yet to yield anyone from its doors. “How do I know he’s legitimate?”
The man grunted. He seemed to have been looking in the same direction you were, but obviously he didn’t know what he was looking for. “Wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.”
Finally, the doors to the building began to edge open. You whipped around to fully face the ledge, raising your arms as a bright light shone and a long, sleek rifle emerged from your body. Guided half by instinct and half by practice, you needed almost no time to focus down your sights and fire off a bright yellow bullet at the first man to emerge— A man who immediately crumpled to the sidewalk upon contact. You kept your eye on him in the milliseconds that followed, making sure he wouldn’t be getting back up. His entourage swarmed as he began to convulse, but by that time, you had already dismissed your Stand and turned back to the stranger, satisfied with the outcome of the situation. So long as the job was done, a weirdo getting in your way was hardly an issue.
“What’s your name again?” You asked, despite him not having told you in the first place. You moved away from the ledge. The man gawked at you for a moment, seemingly awestruck, before wiping it from his face and replacing it with a smug look.
“Hol Horse, ma’am.”
“Hol Horse,” you repeated. Putting out the half-smoked cigarette against the concrete wall, you gave the man a saccharine smile. “Let’s talk business.”