[color=black][h2][b]Well, Now...[/b][/h2][/color]
Frankly, that plan had gone far, far better than he’d anticipated. Not only had he reached the shoreline at last, landing in a perhaps-stereotypical fashion as the ground cracked under him, but he’d also seriously injured his enemy, drained some of her energy and likely deafened her to boot. She was in a bad state.

However, being in a bad state did not mean a foe was defeated. Not when it came to Stand users. And if he knew Stand users, it was that they frequently came up with their most ingenious solutions when backed against a wall. In other words, this girl was still dangerous, even with the damage she’d sustained. That said, it appeared that the Boys of Summer had yet to dissipate - if anything, there were even more of them than before, and [i]their[/i] danger lay in how easily they could prolong a fight until a lethal solution could be found.

Even so, he had his lethal solution still brewing inside him. He began to pressurise his gut, preparing for-
And never mind. Apparently, Runch was calling off the fight. You know, like that was at all feasible in this case. He even launched some of his Bloodberry recipe at their foe, apparently an effort to help make amends. How adorably foolish.

[color=black]'With all due respect, Captain, I highly suggest you stop trying to interfere,'[/color] Motley suggested disapprovingly, his voice unnervingly cold. [color=black]'Whilst your sentiment is perhaps a rare and appreciable trait in your world, it’s a death sentence in mine. Think about it - this girl and her brother came after us, unprovoked, with the intent all along to slay us, and it is simply our luck that their Stands were insufficient for the task despite our group’s relative lack thereof. If they are allowed to leave, as I imagine you’ve allowed the brother to, they’ll simply come back for more later, and will likely return with greater preparation against us.[/color]

[color=black]'They can’t reasonably be allowed to live. I, for one, am going to finish this girl off, whether or not she’s the more dangerous of the duo.'[/color] As he spoke these last two sentences, Motley began to run in the target’s direction, taking a leap into the air at around two hundred meters from her to give himself the height he needed to enact his ultimate plan - though, bearing in mind her nature as a Stand user, prepared himself to dodge midair if she managed to fire yet more rockets at him from an unexpected angle. Perhaps he’d sacrifice a shoe to launch a nail harpoon from his toes toward the ground as a way of forcibly pulling himself downward should a set of rockets barrel toward him. If he needed to, that was.

His stomach began to churn, compress, contract; bile rose in his throat, all his teeth retracted into his gums simultaneously, and with a vile and disturbing retch, he produced a wave of projectile vomit aimed directly at Aralynn. Stomach acid, functionally, was hydrochloric acid, dilute enough not to burn a hole in the stomach’s lining as it recovered itself; with a boost from his Black Ripple and his own vampiric regeneration, the glands producing the acid could effectively be supercharged without risk to himself, allowing a far more concentrated and deadly acid to be produced with enough time. With similar compression tactics as he’d just used in his eyeballs, indeed practically the same mechanisms as vomiting usually required, that acid could then be launched a great distance toward an opponent with decent accuracy. He imagined some practice might let him focus the acid blast into a sort of lethal cannonball; for now, the focus needed was a bit beyond him, but the acid itself would dissolve her body with ease if it made contact.

But he wasn’t done yet. It was painfully clear that the single burst would be absorbed by the brother’s Stand if he just left it be… and so, he needed to increase how many shots he’d actually fired. And wouldn’t you know, he had exactly what he needed to do just that: aiming his fingers at the stomach blast, he fired out ten beams of blood simultaneously, directing them to pass through the stomach acid and shred the singular attack into an oversized cloud of discrete acidic shots - each of which, he hoped, would require one bodyguard to absorb to ensure they were stopped, plus extra guards for the ten blood beams aimed at Aralynn herself to boot. And if not enough guards were left, well, that would just be a darn shame for his target, wouldn’t it?

[@Lugubrious][@ProPro]