[IC] Steel Ball Run | Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

[Marlowe]

MENTIONS: @AmpharosBoy

The last of her laughs had finally bubbled from her lips, along with the annoyance that seethed through her blood. Jules knew that she could get a little hot-headed and immature at times, though that boy was just too amusing to her. Was he even old enough to be attending the race? He did know that people could die, right? That, and while the law protected the racers, there were bound to be some... accidents. All of them wouldn't cross the finish line. Some might get hurt-- crippled, even. Others might die due to the weather or wildlife. And then there were the more devious accidents, where man turned against man and cut each other down when no one was looking.

Jules sighed, riding at a more relaxed pace. It was a good day-- the wind blew, the sun shined, the sky was a deep azure. Today was the day she would take her first strides towards winning the race. She was sure that luck was on her si--

Something collided with her left side. At first, she thought she had been splashed with water, but what deterred her from that thought was that whatever hit her was hot. Not a burning hot, though; it was more lukewarm than anything. Jules glanced down at her arm in surprise as Donny called out to her as he trotted past.

"Now you have a reason to talk shit!"

She suddenly didn't like the brown color that covered half of her body.

This kid... had thrown horse shit at her? Her confidence ran cold. The smell of the horse shit was repugnant. A trembling hand came up to her face and hat. The crap had gotten practically everywhere. Some people snickered at her as she rode by, only adding to the chill that had encompassed her. In a panic, she tried to brush it off as much as she could, tried to at least look somewhat decent. But as her hand rushed to try to clean herself off, the shit only embedded itself deeper into her clothing and smeared across her skin. The chill became warmer and warmer until she was burning hot with anger. Her hand curled into a fist as Jules shuddered with rage.

"I'll kill you!" Her voice was shrill as she kicked her heels into Greasy Sand's sides and went after him. "You're dead, kid!"

[Lord Orgasmo]

Interacting with:@Severance

---

Annie had been walking towards her horse while she was talking to this "Joseppi" person, conversing along the way. Neon Knight trailed slowly behind."Well, I suppose that makes sense. Having a fella in big ol' armor is bound to draw some attention in a crowded place. Ya hear that Neon?" Annie had kept her eyes on Slow Ride as she walked towards him, but looked back towards Neon as she said her last sentence. When she looked back forwards Joseppi had his fist stuck out, with what looked like another fist jutting out towards her.

"Woah, now!" Annie stopped dead in her tracks, and just as suddenly as the fist had appeared, it had vanished. "Well now, that's a neat trick." Neon Knight looked ready to strike at said hand, but relaxed when it dissapeared. After another moment of walking, they had arrived where Slow Ride was. Annie untied him from the post and hopped on.

"Well, if ya truly are headed back to New York, I'd be right happy to have ya come with. I'm going to stop by the beach first if ya don't mind. Want to get in one last good look before headin' off." It was about this time Neon Knight hopped on to Slow Ride as well, but the horse didn't seem to notice. Annie gave Slow Ride a pat on the head and he began to trot off. "Go ahead and get your horse and meet me there would ya?"

[GubGar]

Mentions: @AmpharosBoy @Ambra

---

Simon's internal panicking was interrupted by that scary woman from earlier calling out to him. He barely registered the words 'good luck' before she had given him a rough pat on the back that caused him to yelp, and promptly rode off. He really hoped she hadn't heard the yelp...she definitely heard the yelp. Ugh. That was seriously embarrassing. First he chickens out of any type of conversation, then he yelps. She must've thought he was the biggest coward in the entire race. Not that she would be wrong for thinking that of Simon.

His downwards spiral of self-deprecation was broken when the Human Badger, whom he had heard earlier introduce himself as Donny, came trotting after her and- did he just scoop up horse crap? Simon's eyes widen, resembling saucers. Why in the world was he grabbing a fistful of crap!? Seconds after asking, Simon saw Donny approach the scary woman. Oh. Oh! Oh no.

"Watch out for-" His declaration was both too quiet, and too late, as the glob of horse dung was lobbed straight at the scary woman. Simon recoiled slightly as he was forced to watch the unfortunate collision. That was absolutely horrid, in both smell, and how cruel it was. Simon thinks back, recalling what she had said before patting him on the back. Was this Donny a competitor? Were all competitors eager to perform smear (poor word choice) tactics on each other!? This race was far too terrifying for Simon's tastes.

While he had a panic attack, the scary woman sped up. Eager to chase down the Shit Slinging Badger Boy. Her anger was palpable, was she about to do something she might regret? "Augh- I, Well- We probably ought to stop this from escalating.." With practiced speed, but the enthusiasm of a wet sock, Simon climbed atop Cecilia, and began to chase after the scary woman, who was chasing after Donny.

"Waaaait! Surely this doesn't need to escalate any further! You two might be at risk of being disqualified!" Simon called out desperately as the chase began in earnest, an unintentional prelude to the race itself.

[Marlowe]

MENTIONS: @AmpharosBoy @Severance @Lord Orgasmo @NachoBachoPacho

Her chase had been unsuccessful. Just as Jules was able to catch up with Donny in order to give him a proper beating, he had entered the sights of the officials that were monitoring the other participants of the race. They glared at her as she slowed her horse to a stop. Instead of glaring back, she averted her gaze and turned it to the line of horses that were eagerly waiting the start of the race. Their riders were as gritty-faced as ever and mostly men, so that son of a bitch was easily able to slip into the crowd. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of that dreaded golden hair and boyish face. That... was currently twisted as he mocked her from afar, his tongue poking out into the air like a goddamn fish. Her brow narrowed as she stared him down, her hands curling into fists around Greasy Sand's reigns. Saddle-cloth number 0891. She would remember that.

Grunting a curse under her breath, Jules looked back out at the rest of the horizontal line that stretched over the beach. There were so many people... she had to find her grid number somehow. Right now, she was around the numbers that started with 0... so she would have to go a bit further up. Jules guided her horse into a trot again, only slowing when she saw the numbers climb upwards, above 12, 13, 14, 15... There was 17, and then there was 1728. An empty spot. Her empty spot. She grinned, bringing her horse between the two others that waited for the start of the race. One was a woman with a rather frilly costume atop a gray-speckled horse, while the other was a gray-haired man with a very long mustache that dripped down to his chest. The both of them watched her for a moment as she stood in place. Jules sighed, knowing that they were probably staring at the mess that dappled her cloak and clothing. There were no announcements being made yet, so Jules offered the girl a grin and said, "Pretty nice weather, huh?"

The girl eyed her with her crystal-clear blue eyes for a moment before her lips curled upwards only slightly. "It'll only get warmer in the desert." Her voice was smooth and like honey.

"Of course, of course, that stage is said to be about an eighteen days' journey from start to finish-- if you're smart enough."

"Oh yes, but I expect many to pull out of the race before they complete it," she murmured. "Or maybe they won't show up anywhere at all. I heard strange things about that desert."

Jules cocked her head. "Like what?"

"ATTENTION ALL PARTICIPANTS," a voice boomed from somewhere ahead of them. Jules turned to look, spotting a older man with short-cropped hair standing on a platform. There was a crowd of spectators around him, and while they were all out of the way of the desperate racers, she could still hear his voice as he continued. "THE RACE IS TO START IN FIVE MINUTES. IF YOU ARE NOT WITHIN YOUR GRID MARKER BEFORE THE TWO-MINUTE MARK, YOU WILL BE PENALIZED!"

Jules looked down at the ground again and made sure that her number matched the grid marker on the ground. Number 1728. She relaxed a bit before turning back to the girl in the frilly clothing. But the girl wasn't looking at her anymore. Her eyes were turned toward the horizon and her face had become much more cold. Jules frowned, then turned to the horizon as well. Idle chit chat was what she usually dabbled in when she was nervous. Though, she silently agreed with the girl. Now wasn't the time for talk.

A handful of minutes. The man was screaming somewhere in the distance, talking about the more notable members of the race that were gaining all of the attention from the spectators. There weren't any names that she recognized. Some sounded like they were American-- others sounded like they came from far off places, like India or China. People from both the spectator stands and the line of horses cheered a couple of times, and soon enough most of the line was encompassed by a chant of "SAN DIEGO! NEW YORK! SAN DIEGO! NEW YORK!"

Tension was building. The racers eyed each other nervously. The chants died down steadily. Jules repositioned herself in the saddle, staring ahead. For a split second, there was quiet-- and then explosions rang out behind them. Fireworks. In a rippling motion, the horses began to shoot forward. Jules slammed her heels into Greasy Sand's sides and kept gait with the others.

The Steel Ball Run had begun.

[Potemking]

MENTIONS: N/A

---

The race had begun, and Donny was off. While he had originally been driven by just money, something different was flaring in him now: A competitive nature bubbling up due to that annoying woman, Jules. Sure, he had thrown horse shit at her; But that was just the beginning. Now he would leave her in the dust on the first stage, and beyond. There was plenty of competition, but that wasn't going to bother him: He'd push through, and stomp out who he had to. They had to be wary here, but once they were out in the dusts, away from public eye?

Anything could 'accidentally' happen to a few racers, right? And their supplies could mysteriously disappear afterwards. And Donny himself could oh-so conveniently end up with more supplies. It was a good deal all around, at least, he thought so.

As O'Riley raced forward, Donny took a moment to look back. Through the dozens of racers in his view, he saw all the prints from the horses along the ground. Though he had really checked back to make sure nobody was looming behind him; Not trusting that he wouldn't find a knife in his back sooner rather than later. Upon thinking now, maybe he should have thought more about a route to take. He hadn't really planned this much; He'd just keep racing until he reached his destination or found a reason to stop.

All he knew was he had to come in first. And first was what he'd do; Score the points, win the race, take the prize home.

Simple stuff.

[CaliforniaState]

_Mention: 「 N/A 」

---

All in all, this Annie person didn’t seem to impress with whatever Joseppi was trying to sell her, but he was a firm believer in when life gives you lemonade you make lemons. He started to rely on the fact that she wasn’t a threat and just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whether or not he would protect her from the rest of the stand users here had yet been decided. After all, Neon Knight looked astute and capable enough to defend his blissfully ignorant user. Yet despite all that, Joseppi was interested in the side of her that was making her way back to New York, both of their homes. Accepting her invitation he made his way over to Radio Head, unhitched his reigns, and made his way to the beach behind Annie. Whatever happened at the beach would hopefully paint a clearer picture of their fates intertwined.

Time carried on like marching soldiers until the race called for its competitors to arrive to their marks in preparation of the final countdown. After having taken some time for himself with Annie, the lone ranger made his way back to the starting line almost gallivanting to his spot without a semblance of worry. 1890 was his spot perhaps even the luckiest of the entire race save for 0777. Passing racer after race he made his way cozily into his spot before surveying the rest of his competition. There was almost anyone you could think of there, from men to women to every race under the San Diego sun, it was quite the spectacle. His eyes sweeping up and down stopped and made a double take when he saw one girl in particular or rather an amazon. She was taller than any of the other females that had failed to catch his attention at the race, not only was it her height that drew him in but the familiar look in her eyes as if he had seen her face somewhere before.

Contemplating on where he had seen the half Amazonian half Musketeer, his knapsack on the side of Radiohead flew open expelling all of his papers and scattering them about. One paper flew up and blew back into Joseppi’s face obscuring his view. Unbeknownst to him it was none other than the wanted poster of the exact girl in front of him. Annoyed at the paper suctioned to his face he ripped it off without so much as giving it a glance. It seemed fate was trying to pull him closer to her, but in his obsession, he ignored it, rolling up the paper and tucking it back in his bag. A cacophony of sounds erupted from the myriad of fireworks that lit the sky. His eyes snapped up looking for the girl who was no longer there across from him. She had been lost in the start and chaos of the race.

Luckily for Joseppi he didn’t care much about coming in first nor winning the race despite it being enough for him to retire on. Instead he was simply okay with waiting in the bulk of the group securing bounty identities in order to capture them in the points between stretches of race. Except, he once again saw the girl with the feather plumes out front, instantly igniting his curiosity. And so, JoJo kicked at the sides of Radio Head sending the monstrous horse into a rage. Streams of hot air escaped his nose helping him build up speed almost instantly. Passing the other racers, a smile crossed his cheeks, he was gaining on the heels of the mysterious blonde.

[Lord Orgasmo]

Interacting with: Neon Knight. But he ain't here so I can't ping him.

---

The sun sat high in the sky as Annie looked onwards towards the horizon. It was fun traveling abroad, but it was time to go home.

This is also about the time Annie noticed the army of people on the beach. She looked back."Uhh... Neon, You seein' this? Is this some sort of big party?" she chuckled. "What, is the president coming to town?" "They're here for the Steel Ball Run. You need to get in position." "What's a Steel Ball Run? Some sorta race? It's what they look like they're about to do." "Yes. Look over there." Neon Knight's silvery metal finger pointed to the distance. A large platform with a flowing banner bearing the words "STEEL BALL RUN" could be seen. "Huh. Well I'll be. Hope they all have fun. Maybe I'll join in next time." "There is no 'next time'. This is a once in a lifetime event organized by the president himself. The winner is supposed to receive fifty million dollars. They're headed to New York, same as us. They're following a specific path though. We have a map in one of our satchels. You need to get into your spot. Hurry!"

Neon Knight grabbed hold of the reigns and directed Slow Ride to their position. Spot 0690."N-Now hold on there, Neon. This is all a lot to take in. And for that matter, how do you know all of this anyways?" "Have... have you not been paying attention to all of this? They've been talking about this for weeks." Annie blinked slowly, thinking. "Uhh..." "Oh my God." Neon Knight gripped the reigns in barely contained frustration. "Just... just pretend to hold the reigns.

The people around them started chanting. San Diego, New York. Over and over. The beginning and the end. Then, all at once, everyone took off. A cloud of dust enveloped them, and the horses ran as fast as they could. They rapidly passed several riders, likely those with slow reactions or horses who weren't up to snuff. Neon Knight had great confidence in Slow Ride, however, and Neon Knight let out a "HI-YAH!" as he whipped down the reigns.

[GubGar]

Mentions: N/A

---

Thankfully, Simon didn't need to interfere in what he had thought would be an incredibly violent horseback shootout. The moment he and Cecilia rounded the corner, they were met with a line-up of various other racers and their horses. He was able to note the victim of the Human Badger briefly, before she soon vanished into the crowd. Simon looked timidly at one of the organizers, who was currently giving him an intense glare for so noisily rounding the corner, and nearly disturbing the peace. Simon barely managed to choke out a timid response. "Ah, um, sorry. Very sorry." With that, he leads Cecilia to his place. 1313. How awful.

The person next to him seemed to agree, letting out a wince and briefly stating that he thought his number was unlucky, but that Simon's was far worse. Simon could barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. The race was about to begin, and he had wasted his time beforehand getting into fights, and trying to stop other fights. He didn't get to trade away his horribly unlucky number. Simon was practically doomed before the race even began..in his opinion, anyway. Anyone who wasn't a total defeatist wouldn't feel the same.

Regardless, the embarrassment and awkwardness of bailing out at the finish line was too much for Simon to handle. So he gripped Cecilia's reigns nervously, and began taking deep breaths to calm himself. The chanting of the crowd really didn't help much either. And as if sensing his distress, the voice of Perform This Way could be heard in his head, joining in the chant. Simon began to grit his teeth.

And before he knew it, the race was underway. The sound of fireworks bursting in the air signalling the start. Simon leaned forward in his saddle, which spurred Cecilia forwards. No lashing of the reigns was needed for his trusty police horse to get the message loud and clear. Somehow Simon managed to find himself at a cozy lead compared to most of the other racers, he was far from the front of the pack, but was at a pleasant middle ground. This was due to the simple fact that Cecilia wasn't phased by the explosions, and thus wasn't thrown off whatsoever. Simon found himself headed forward at a steady pace.

Granted, he wasn't gaining speed, but he wasn't losing it either. It was a reliable speed that promised safety above all else, which was what Simon prioritized right now. Cecilia was all about bursts of speed, so when the end of the first segment came around, that would be when he gave it his all. Until then, it was time to coast.

[Marlowe]

MENTIONS: @Severance

It was already a thrilling start. The wind whipped against her face as her hat remained on the top of her head. Jules kept her gaze forward, unflinching as some horses sped by her. It didn't concern her. She knew that the other horses would tire out soon enough, though she kept up a good pace nevertheless. Greasy Sand wasn't using his full power yet, and even the horse seemed a little uncaring about some other horses overtaking them. A few moments passed-- there were already some horses that were beginning to slow down because of their mad dash towards the others. These weren't machines that one could run for as long as they'd like. Even Greasy Sand knew that, and he was a horse!

Though, her ride wasn't as going as smoothly as she planned. Greasy Sand started to huff louder, his ears swiveling back in her direction. Something was clearly agitating him, though she wasn't sure what. The other horses to her sides weren't that close to him. That being said, they were more entertained with the other riders rather than with her. That was when Jules decided to peer over her shoulder... and was met with an absolute demon of a horse and its rider. The both of them were practically on top of her. Having that beast on her tail wasn't doing her any good... and she didn't think she could separate from him. No, this guy had his sights on her.

A curse left her as she slowed down slightly until she was neck to neck with the stranger. Jules sent a glare in his direction, her face one of pure annoyance. The least she could hope for was that he would overtake her and she'd find another method in getting ahead of him later on in the stage. If things went well, that was.

[Potemking]

MENTIONS: 「@Lord Orgasmo」

---

Perhaps 'win every stage' wasn't as simple as it sounded. While he tried to keep at the front of the pack, he noted that it simply painted a bigger target on his back. He allowed himself to fall back a small amount, though not to an extent that the leaders were leaving him in the dust: They must've been confident in their horses stamina to blast ahead this early, or maybe they were stupid? There was time to debate racer intelligence later; Donny was focusing on now, and scoping out his opposition to see who would look like the biggest threat.

His eyes landed on a woman; Kind of pudgy, but not in the places that made you ugly. Despite the race and the danger, she seemed surprisingly casual compared to most of the racers; Was she confident? He wasn't above assuming a woman could be dangerous; If anything, they'd probably beat him down more than most men have. Underestimating even the most innocent looking racer was bound to cause you trouble in the long run, so he simply considered everyone as a threat. It was too early to pick and choose targets; That was for later stages.

Then, it happened.

The plump roast woman had removed her hands from the reins of her horse, adjusting her shirt, or something? Though that was, surprisingly, not the interesting part: Rather, the interesting part was the fact the reins she released were floating in the air. The air. THE. AIR.

Donny's eyes practically shot out of his skull. _{"E h h h h h h ? !"} He let out a sound of pure confusion and shock: How was that possible? How could that woman levitate her reins like that? Wait: Levitate. Levitation was psychic. If Levitation = Psychic, then Tubba Blubba Butt over there was psychic. She wasn't just a racer; She wasn't just confident! She was controlling her horse with nothing but her mind!

Instinctively, he began to steer his horse farther away. But despite this, he kept staring with that same shocked, stupid expression. He could deal with swords, or guns. But psychic powers were beyond him; This was bullshit! Why'd he have to see her do that?! Now he'd be paranoid the entire race, and worse, terrified right now because she could be in his mind. She could've known all of these things he was thinking, right now, at this very moment.

_{'She can't read your mind. She can't read your mind. She can't read your mind...'} He thought to himself, though what if she could? What if she was, damn it? This was so distracting; He wasn't even paying attention to the race, this stupid shit was infecting his mind like an extreme paranoia. He wasn't usually the fearful type, but psychic powers were no joke! The larder-ass was a bigger threat to his well-being than he could have imagined.

He'd need to avoid conflict with that one.

[GubGar]

Mentions: @Lord Orgasmo

---

Simon's strategy of not sweating it and keeping a steady pace was surprisingly effective. He wasn't entirely sure why almost every other racer was treating the race as if it were a short-distance sprinting contest, when it was in fact, an endurance run. Maybe they didn't really believe they could win and wanted to at least get a high ranking during the first portion of the first leg. Simon could understand that, better to be a winner briefly than a loser throughout the whole thing.

However, before Simon could continue down that downright depressing train of thought, he heard a voice. An unfortunately familiar, aggressive and metallic voice. "Psst! Earth to Dumb Mustache!" It was obvious who it belonged to no one else's voice sounded like a fork on a washboard. Oh no. Simon thought. "Oh no." Simon said. While he was distracted, his horrible evil ghost had manifested behind him. The scary specter called itself Perform This Way, Simon called it his awful ghost. "Oh no? Did you just lament my arrival? Yeah, okay, you're eating dirt next time you need me pal. But that ain't the point. Look over there!" Perform this way's stubby robotic hands grab onto Simon's head. It took all of Simon's willpower not to freak out and accidentally fall off Cecilia, who wouldn't have gotten even remotely spooked by Simon if he had freaked out.

His awful ghost forces him to look over at another rider. What made this one different, was the fact that she was riding double with what appeared to be an individual in a suit of armor. "Oh, wow. That's really amazing that those two trust each other enough to ride double like that. I think it's a bit cruel on the horse to wear such heavy armor, though." Simon noted, somehow missing the fact that the 'person' in the armor was phasing partially through the woman, and was obviously a ghost. His earnest statement was met with a long, irritated exhale by Perform This Way. "You know what? Never mind. Sure. They're riding double." The ghost proceeds to fade away in irritation, totally giving up on warning Simon about the potentially violent Stand that was riding somewhat nearby.

Simon frowned. That was strange. Usually his evil spirit only manifested to torment him or laugh when he stubbed his toe. Simon was fairly certain that it was just trying to get in his head and mess with him, so he promptly decides to forget about the whole affair, and continue focusing on the race. His current strategy was to ensure Cecilia didn't get too close to any of the aggressive looking riders. Simon suspected foul play was a given in this race. After all, having been a Policeman for years, Simon knew greed tended to lead to violence. This strategy was another safe bet, but it made Simon seem like a very bad jockey, as his horse was just sort of gradually zigzagging around while pressing forwards, instead of going straight forward.

[CaliforniaState]

_Mention: 「 @Ambra 」

---

Radio head was a breed built for not just endurance, but for racing as well. Hitting his prime in four short years of age, there were very few horses at the race who could only hope to hold a handle to the bucking bronco. Confident he didn’t need to expel too much of Radio head energy or reveal any of his tricks in hand, Joseppi instead simply kept patting the horse and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Whatever he was whispering seemed to be working, radio head’s hooves stomped into the ground so furiously it appeared as though the earth was experiencing major upheavals. The marks in the ground were severely cracked with marks of Radio heads distinct horseshow pattern. A dozen or so small stars coated the entire rim of the horseshoe, similar to the purple star birthmark etched on the flesh of his neck.

Cutting through the rest of the competition he had finally made it out just a few meters behind the girl with a plume of feathers. Utilizing aerodynamics, Joseppi began to draft behind her using the slipstream created by her horse to close the gap between them. About to slip from out of her stream in order to overtake her he noticed she turned around to face him. Unintentional to him the image she caught was a menacing one. Both horse and rider had a look of animalistic determination obscured in shadow only revealing the light glowing from their eyes. Her horse slowed allowing from him to ride up alongside her, her glare and sight of pure annoyance was like a stab to his heart. Once side by side Joseppi’s demonic figured faded in an instant as if he were molting old skin.

Now all that was left was a huge smile and an air of radiant positivity. He leaned back and blindly reached into his bag knocking trinkets and papers together until he was finally able to get ahold of his gift. Undoing the button, he retrieved and revealed a beautiful wildflower harvested from the nearby Death Valley. The sun only served to enhance the golden color it was coated in which he could only hope to field a positive response from her. “I don’t think we met yet, but I couldn’t help notice your beauty from all the way across the starting line. For you” he said tucking one arm under his chest and bowing in respect. Unfortunately, while he was rummaging through his bag, he had undone the strap holding it close. Her wanted poster slipped out once more almost if the girl was attracting it to her like a magnet.

Before she could even warrant a reply, the paper flew out and slapped itself against the face of Jules. Once she would pull it from her face she would be greeted by a mirror image, but with a slight addition of the words Wanted and Dead or Alive.

[Marlowe]

MENTIONS: @Severance

Well... this was surprising. Jules expected to be met with a vicious expression as soon as she started riding side-by-side with the tall stranger. Instead, she was staring at a face full of life, vigor, and positivity. Her eyes remained locked onto his face as he leaned back and pulled something from his bag. A flower. A golden one, at that. What? He had cut through the entire race on that vicious beast just to give her a flower? It was romantic, yes, but why? In a combination of flattery and confusion, she became a little flushed. The strange man was handsome and romantic. The strange man was giving her a flower. She should be polite and accept it, right?

"Oh, thank yo--" she began to say as she reached out toward the flower. But before she could even respond, a piece of paper flew out from his bag and struck her in the face. Momentarily blinded, Jules cursed and pulled it away from view, prepared to toss it away. Though... something was off. The words WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE were plastered at the top of the paper. And below that-- her face, drawn with utmost precision and a practiced hand. Her slight blush faded away entirely as she stared at the poster, eyes wide with terror. No. No, no, this was bad.

Her panicked look went back up to the man, a wobbly scowl planted on her lips. Jules tossed the paper behind her in her rage, not caring if it was carried back towards the ocean or trampled beneath the thousands of horses around them. "Stay out of my way if you know what's good for you." Her words were vicious, angry. She allowed this man to reach her flank and he had a poster with her face on it. How careless of her! To think she had let her guard down. Her brow furrowed as she pulled on Greasy Sand's reigns, yanking them to the side and kicking her horse once again. The horse whinnied in complaint before it bolted away, separating from the man and careening away from him.

Damn it, how could she be so stupid? Her frustration almost blinded her, kicking her horse again and making him go faster. She had to gain the ground they had lost. She wasn't too behind, but what daunted her most was that she was in danger. Not the ordinary type of danger, not because of the others. She was in danger because of her own self. The King of Naples must have caught wind that she had fled to America and sent for her head. Just how many of those things were there? She didn't see any in town. Could it be possible that they were just issued?

Just when she thought that she might be safe, she found herself gliding close to another horse. This horse, however, had two people on it. One was a pudgy albeit pretty woman, while the other one appeared genderless and covered in armor. Jules stared for a moment, bewildered. Was the horse not bothered by the weight? Why were they riding together? Wasn't that against the rules? She shook her head, trying to make sense of all that was happening. It was only the first stage and she was already beginning to lose her mind. Keep it together, Julia, she told herself, placing her gaze ahead of her once more. There was a downhill slope up ahead. She would need to slow down if she didn't want to lose even more ground. If she focused and played this well, she could snag a top ten spot, or maybe top five. If she played this well and was lucky, maybe she could come first.

[Lord Orgasmo]

Here's looking at you, @AmpharosBoy

---

Annie was not a racer. She much preferred the slow but steady pace she normally takes, hence the name Slow Ride. But Annie knew he enjoyed galloping at a full sprint every now and then. Annie did her best to look like she was holding the reigns, but letting Neon Knight do the actual riding. Suddenly, she felt part of her jacket loosen. Without hesitation, she let go of the reigns and re-buttoned up her jacket. Looking back she noticed a young man riding close by. He couldn't have been older than twenty. His blonde hair flew in the wind as he made eye contact with her. He seemed... very afraid. Annie gave him a short wave, but the young man seemed to be trying to get away from her more than anything. "Was it something I said?"

---

IN THE MIND OF NEON...

---

This isn't the first time Neon had ridden a horse. Annie had either been injured or fallen asleep on her horse numerous times before, and it was up to him to get her to safety. He'd gotten a good feel for Slow Ride over the years. He was built for stamina, and was used to traveling for a long time. He was pretty smart, too. He could usually avoid hazards on his own, but it was still a good idea to supervise.

Things seemed to be going smoothly for the most part, some riders were ahead of him, many behind. But just as things seemed to be going well, he noticed Annie take her hands off the reigns. "Aw goddammit Annie..." he hissed. Annie seemed more interested in fixing her jacket than listening to him, however. Letting go of the reigns at this point wouldn't be a good idea. Hopefully, nobody would make a big fuss about it. For now he just needed to keep a lookout for danger. Perhaps a change in equipment was in order? No, not yet. They weren't in any immediate danger. "Annie, keep a lookout for trouble. I'll concentrate on the riding. If you see anything out of the ordinary, let me know as soon as you see it." Annie looked back from the boy and grabbed the reigns once more. "Hmm? Sorry, you say something, Neon?" Annie was met with an exasperated and defeated sigh from Neon Knight. This was going to be a loooong trip.

[Potemking]

MENTIONS: 「@Lord Orgasmo」

---

Mother of god. She had taken notice of him.

It felt like time froze and the world stopped. He processed his situation quickly, unsure if she had really noticed he saw her reins floating in the air. She was acting so casual; Was she truly prepared for this race? How could one person seem so friendly yet so menacing at the same time? Was he just becoming unnerved over superstition? No, he had saw it; It was very real. Something was strange about her, and he couldn't trust what she said. The wave was probably a facade to get him to lower his guard, but he wasn't going to do so. He'd keep his distance; But keep an eye on her, as well. For his own sake.

These thoughts were interrupted by something slapping him in the face. He panicked; scrambling and clawing at whatever it was as he screeched out of surprise. Had people started playing dirty already by blinding his damn view?! He'd kill the bastard that thought they'd cheat him out of his position in the race just because they threw paper at him. But, upon observation, this wasn't just any poster. It was a wanted poster; And the face on it, wanted dead or alive...

Was that jackass he threw shit at earlier.

"Shit." He muttered to himself, eyes widening. She was wanted? He went and threw horse shit at a wanted woman? He wasn't exactly scared, _{(yes he was)} but he became more wary than ever knowing there was an outlaw out for him. Though, if she came to him, and he had this on hand... She could be a pretty markup. If he turned her in, he'd definitely have the cash to fund the race; Perhaps fund himself to victory. But she was probably dangerous; He'd have to be careful. He doubted she had better to offer than her bounty, and since she'd probably come to him, it was a free meal ticket. He'd just need to lure her into a trap of some sort.

He crammed the poster under his scarf to keep it from blowing away, and continued focusing on the race. He was, of course, aiming for number one: But as long as he got a decent score during this stage, he'd at least be in a good position to scout out enemies that were a threat later.

[GubGar]

Mentions: @Severance

---

Focusing more on the riders than the course was costing Simon a bit of speed, but honestly he felt he was far better off for it. After all, it was better to have a slow start, than have the race cut short by another racer getting violent with him. He vaguely noticed the Badger Man speed up, seeming to hurry away from the duo riding double. Perhaps the clattering of the strange armor was irritating him? Simon could understand that. It was pretty odd, all things considered, seeing someone dressed up like that for a race. And he could only assume it was very loud, though Simon himself wasn't close enough to hear it himself.

By observing Donny, Simon ended up witnessing the piece of paper smack him right in the face. He frowned. Was someone littering on the race track? If that paper got under a horse's foot, it might make the poor thing lose traction and hurt itself. That just wouldn't do. So, trusting Cecilia to remain on track, Simon begins to search for the source of the paper. It took a little bit, but he managed to locate an incredibly imposing figure riding an equally imposing horse. What was noteworthy, was that the rider's satchel was unbuttoned, and opened wide. Simon noted what seemed to be several more papers were stuffed hastily into the bag, and were currently getting battered by the wind. That must've been the guy- or, well, maybe it wasn't. But it was the most likely guy Simon could spot.

It seemed that he had misjudged the imposing rider. He wasn't trying to sabotage other racers, he was merely having trouble with his bag. Simon leaned forward in his saddle, and Cecilia immediately began to speed up. Her skill at short distance sprinting meant Simon had little trouble closing the distance between himself and the imposing rider. But it took a bit longer for him to work up the courage to talk, which meant he was just sort of riding near him, and looking at him silently. It was incredibly awkward.

Finally, Simon spoke up, having decided that a good deed might give him enough good karma to balance out his bad luck. "Excuse me, Pardner!" He called out, his voice deep and rumbling, yet notably not intense in any sense of the word. "Ah don't mean ta distract you from the race or nothin', but I couldn't help but notice that your bag's come loose. Ah don't want you ta lose nothin' valuable. That'd be rotten luck ta' start the race off with somethin' goin' missing." He had to shout a bit due to the deafening sound of a great deal of horses galloping, but even when throwing his voice to ensure he was heard, Simon seemed overly polite and nervous.

Immediately after, Simon winced. What if this guy didn't appreciate his information. Maybe he knew his bag had opened up already, and was now irritated that Simon had drawn unnecessary attention to it. Ugh, maybe he should've just kept his mouth shut and his head down. Now he'd gone and drawn an imposing looking fellow's attention to himself.

[CaliforniaState]

_Mention: 「 @NachoBachoPacho 」

---

It appeared as though lady luck had other ideas for Joseppi, his patented technique for flirting backfired on him. His undefeated win streak was crushed or in this case smacked into the face of the one he tried to seduce. Knowing not was on the paper, Jules look was all too telling to not notice that whatever was on the paper was bad news. Joseppi in his newfound confusion had his mouth agape in a frown racking his brain wondering what could be on the paper. The only thing that could come to his mind was the bundle of wanted posters nestled in his knapsack. Could it be she was a wanted criminal or was she just not that into men in uniform. The thought weighed heavy on him while trying to decide which one it was. Speechless for once in his life, heat pressed at the top of his skin all over his body making him hot, causing sweat to accumulate on his back and on his forehead. “Wa..wai..Now miss this is surely a misunderstanding come back!” Joseppi pleaded, but his efforts were in vain. Jules had already galloped well past him leaving him to bite the dust.

The vicious bite of anger and fear from Jules punctured deep inside causing the 190cm giant to become quite rabid. The anger however fueled his mind allowing him to think semi clearly once more. Sighing in defeat he knew he had to reclaim the parchment to figure out what caused such a violent reaction. In an almost animal like instinct, a gust of wind unbuttoned the strap on his waist keeping his lasso tucked and brought it into his open palm. To anyone without the ability to see a stand it would have looked like a ghost had guided the rope into his hand or Joseppi was just a master at sleight of hand. With a simple flick and snap of his wrist he built enough momentum overheard to toss his lasso out to catch the paper before anyone else could retrieve it. Unfortunately for Joseppi his run of bad luck only seemed to be getting worse. Instead of slicing through the air to the piece of paper the rope fell short, too short actually, only inches away from where the backside of Radio Head was.

Joseppi turned to look at the hindrance to his mission with utter disdain and annoyance. Instead of meeting a rock he met something similar, a man almost the same height of Joseppi but carrying around more weight or fat in this case. His rope had managed to entangle itself with the rider behind him, was he another stand user? How did he manage to get behind him without noticing sooner? Whatever it was, his attention quickly diverted off to the side of this burly rider to a much younger shorter dwarf like rider eclipsed in blonde hair. Whoever that was had managed to catch the paper, Joseppi was just fast enough to witness the rider tucking a small slip of paper in his bandana. ” You’re dead” he said forgetting that the other rider adjacent to him could most likely hear him. Joseppi took the flower and tucked it behind his ear and through his hair for safe keeping. It did wonders for his flamboyant nature, hopefully making himself appear more welcoming.

Simon’s words and accent were grating on his ears. Despite having served as a marshal for years, the sound of southern and western accents still aggravated his ears. If one thing was true about New Yorkers it was their snobbish pride when compared to others. Once he finished Joseppi couldn’t help but erupt in laughter. He clutched his face rocking his head back trying to compose himself as to not alarm Simon. Who was this guy? Who would go out of their way to ensure the safety and security of a stranger let alone a competitor? “What’s your name fella? You keep this up and I might have to make you my deputy" Joseppi asked letting the last of his chuckles out.

[Marlowe]

MENTIONS:

When she looked behind her, Jules couldn't see any sign of the black horse and its rider. Good-- the very least she asked for was to be able to focus on this damned stretch of the race. There were still a cluster of horses in front of her, but some slowed down in the proximity of the slope. Ah, yes. She knew this much about horses; if she were to rush down the hill at top speed, that would tucker out poor old Greasy Sand. Yet... there were so many people ahead of her. If she slowed down, that meant that she would permit the others to rush ahead. With that mentality, she wouldn't be able to be in the top ten of the first stage.

Her mind raced. What could she do? It wasn't like she could push Greasy Sand further. The poor thing already huffed and puffed. Jules glanced around. She caught sight of that kid again to her far left, but a piece of paper was tucked underneath his scarf. She eyed him. That couldn't be... no. It wasn't the poster. She shook her head again, mumbling a curse. She had to focus. Just focus. Nothing else. There was no one to her left or to her right, and even if there were people, they were all garbage anyway. All that mattered were those in front of her-- and the hill, of course. Already, she was coming up with a plan.

She crested the hill and headed downward. Horses rushed ahead of her as she decided to slow down just a little, but she knew she had to be quick. Jules' hand went to her hip, her fingers brushing against the smooth metal of her weaponry. The horses were rushing, yes. There was a lot of flying dirt and dust, though she could still see. She couldn't say the same for the others. Were they blind? Were they paying attention? Honestly, she didn't care. All that mattered was pulling off this distraction and trying her damned hardest not to get caught in the mess she was about to create.

Jules gripped one of her metallic spheres, holding it within her palm for a fraction of an instant before she tossed out in front of her. The ball moved in the shape of an arc, like a boomerang, though at an incredible amount of speed. It arched towards one of the horses in front of her, dipping low towards its galloping feet, and clipped its left ankle. The horse yipped in surprise and tripped over itself, falling neck-first against the ground. Its rider screamed as he was flung from his saddle, he too toppling to the ground. The other racers that tailed him cried out in shock as they tried to move out of the way, but it was of no use. Two horses fell. Then two more. Then three more. The fallen horses and riders careened down the hill in a tangle of broken limbs and limp bodies.

Ten racers had fallen in total. Jules would have been caught in the crash if she hadn't moved out of the way. Greasy Sand whimpered in complaint as they served to the side, her rider's hand coming up to catch the ball that arced back towards her. Quickly, she tucked the ball back into its holster and streaked the rest of the way down the hill. The church and town were ahead of her. It was the final stretch.

[Lord Orgasmo]

"At least I got ol' Neon here to talk to!"

---

So far, so OK. She hadn't fallen off her horse, gotten shot at, gotten dust in her eyes, or anything like that. The worst so far was that one of her buttons came undone. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Neon was probably just as good as she was when it came to riding, so she had little worry. With any luck, it'd be over soon. Although... they're going to New York, aren't they? There's no way they'd make it in one go. They had to sleep, their horses had to sleep, what about when it gets dark out? "So uh... Neon. How uh... how are we supposed to do all this? Are there multiple stop and start lines? Surely they don't expect us to make it all the way in one trip, do they?"

"From what I can remember, there are multiple stopping and starting points. Our first stop is Santa Maria, California. I have no idea how long it's going to take us, but expect the worst." Annie looked off to the horizon. "That's... that's gotta be... what, nine miles? Shoot, we can make that in half an hour!" Annie slapped her thigh as she gave a hearty laugh. "Well, let's hop to it Neon! We ain't got all day, maybe this'll be fun after all! Annie gripped the reigns with renewed vigor, giving a loud, hearty laugh. "Come on, horsey, you ain't gonna be a Slow Ride much longer! HI-YAH!" Annie slapped down the reins, giving the signal to Slow Ride to pick up the pace. Dust kicked up and flew everywhere as Annie passed several more riders, leaving her competition literally and figuratively in the dust.

Neon let go of the reins, giving full control to Annie, now taking the role of lookout."Fine, you ride, I'll keep a lookout. But remember to pace Slow Ride. Going this fast for too long will cost us down the line." "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." As much as Annie didn't want to admit it, Neon Knight was right. After a couple moments of running at top speed, Annie pulled back on the reins ever so slightly, telling Slow Ride to slow down. She didn't quite know where all the other racers were, and didn't exactly trust herself not to take her eyes off the theoretical road, but she had a feeling things were going swimmingly.

[GubGar]

Mentions: @Severance

---

The immediate shift in mood that the person Simon foolishly confronted about his bag was like whiplash, while he pulled up, he seemed friendly despite his imposing figure, but when he actually made it next to him, that mood had shifted into anger. Scary face, scary horse, and bad mood were three red flags. Simon immediately regretted talking to this fellow. He should have known better than to take a risk when he had double 13 as his number. Maybe he could just ride away before this scary guy could respond-

It was at that moment that Simon saw this guy's rope seemingly fly right into his hand. Oh God, oh crap. This guy was haunted too. That was definitely haunted behavior. Ropes didn't fly into people's hands on their own. Unless it was really windy, and the person had their hands out. Or maybe if someone threw the rope into someone's hands. But neither thing was happening in this situation, which meant it was a ghost. Simon could feel himself going pale out of fear. An angry, haunted stranger whom Simon had approached while being saddled (literally) with the unluckiest possible number. He was dead, he was totally dead.

While Simon ran through possibilities in his head, and debating as to whether it was morally okay to shoot this guy as a preemptive strike, he completely failed to notice said guy try to lasso a piece of paper only to have the Badger Boy known as Donny Brando snatch it up before he could. All Simon noticed, or rather, heard, was the stranger reacting to Donny snatching the paper. He had declared, quite angrily, 'You're Dead.' Having completely ignored the context, Simon's blood ran cold.

Within an instant, Simon hands tightened on Cecilia's reigns. He lashes them, aggressive for his standards, but very gently for most jockey's standards. Just enough to let his partner know that he needed to move. Now. And move he did, Cecilia was, after all, strongest when it came for her stability and short-distance speed. Before Simon could hear JoJo actually respond to him, and realize that this stranger meant no ill will whatsoever, he was off in a burst of abrupt speed.

"OhgollyOhgollyOhgollyOhgolly.." Simon muttered frantically as he abruptly began gaining on the other racers. Even blazing by a few of them. He rapidly approached the slope, managing to keep his wits just long enough to pull back on the reigns. Cecilia began to slow, but with their momentum, they began speeding down the slope at a quick rate despite his attempts at slowing down. It was, fortunately for both rider and horse, not enough speed to lose control and eat it.

What was not fortunate, was the pile up at the bottom of the slope. Simon let out a very unbecoming shriek, and lurched off to the side in his saddle, tugging on the reigns in order to guide Cecilia off to the side. His horse stumbled as she tried to move despite the forwards and downwards momentum, and for a minute it seemed that both would join the other ten racers at the bottom of the hill. But thanks to Cecilia being relatively used to unpleasant terrain such as the sands in the Devil's Palm, they managed to avoid collapsing, and briefly maneuver off-track in order to avoid trampling or tripping on the less fortunate racers.