[@Old Amsterdam]
This time, it seemed that Laurie’s words took hold. Another moment of defiance shone in the man’s eyes, but finally, he sagged, nearly toppling forward from how much energy he seemed to lose all at once.

‘Fine,’ he relented, waving his hand. Immediately the man on the ground stopped twitching, and his laughter very quickly subsided to mere heavy breathing. Defeated in spirit, if not in body, the comedian looked up to Blue from his sagged position, no longer as sure as he had been, but a bit more hopeful than before.

‘So... okay, I want to be a better person,’ he muttered, almost to himself. ‘To achieve my goals, obviously. In that case... if I want to be a cliff, as you put it, then what do I start with? It feels like I’ve never been given a chance, that I’ve never been appreciated, but I... I can’t figure out what’s gone wrong. If I’m not the cliff yet, then... is it me that’s gone wrong? I mean, how can I tell if that’s the case?

‘Oh, and I never even told you who I was,’ he realised, standing upright and sort of falling on to his backside, like his legs had just given out somehow. The embarrassment on his face was evident, and his effort to hide it was essentially just looking away from her. ‘I, uh... the name’s Bugsy, Bugsy Malone,’ he quickly added, thrusting out his hand almost recklessly in Laurie’s direction.

[hr]

[@knifeman]
At first, the large man nodded, appreciative of the fact that he didn’t have to forcibly remove her from the area after all. The moment Mieke uttered the phrase “Stand user”, though, he frowned. It wasn’t entirely clear whether this was a frown of concern or confusion, but his response after a couple of seconds was a subdued ‘I apologise, I don’t know what that means. I need to help finish up this performance, so...’

And what a performance it was turning out to be. By now, the main presenter had fished what seemed to be his co-worker’s body out from the water, dumping it atop the makeshift podium that was their van. He certainly looked pretty dead from just beneath the van, or at least maimed to the point that he’d never do another stunt in his life. Even so, the mustachioed chap was smiling widely as he inexplicably continued the show:

‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEEEN! What you have just witnessed was NOT a stunt! My dear friend, brother and compatriot Lee has, in fact, perished in most GRUESOME fashion! Watch as he lies motionless!’ He seemed to be motionless, certainly... or wait, did his arm just move- and then he was violently kicked in the face by his brother, spraying a mess of blood, teeth, and saliva across the surface of the van. ‘OBSERVE, as even a boot to the face doesn’t stir his lifeless body!’ Of course, it was also entirely possible that he’d just been knocked unconscious, but clearly [i]that[/i] wasn’t the case. That’d just be inhumane.

‘But FRET NOT, too!’ the announcer continued as his larger co-worker- another brother, perhaps?- climbed up the side of the van. ‘For as all who have witnessed our shows before know, The Crazy Crue Brothers do not fear death! No, for when Death comes to take our souls, we SPIT IN ITS FACE! Observe, for you are about to witness... A MIRACLE!’

A miracle, the crowd asked? No, surely he can’t resurrect the dead, that’s impossible. Yet that was the implication - and the Crue in sunglasses was already cracking his fingers in preparation, showing the insides of his outfit to the audience as he cited ‘Observe, nothing up my sleeves...’

‘...or IS THERE?!’ To the average person, it simply appeared that he’d pulled a long strand of paper from his outfit, like a CVS receipt with too many coupons on it. As far as she was aware, only Mieke herself saw the man light up with a vivid, sparkling, almost fluorescent blue aura, a tell-tale sign of a Stand power in use, or so her implanted knowledge informed her.

[hr]

[@LemonZest1337][@Lugubrious]
As the island was surrounded by water, as one might expect an island to be, it didn’t take long for Hogan to find himself swimming in the Manhattan River proper. Of course, being a crocodile, the current wouldn’t exactly faze him in either direction, and he’d be more than able to climb back on to land at any point if he felt he was getting swept away. Plus, who was going to look in the river for a crocodile? A few curious people who’d heard about an animal show, that was who.

As for Arthur, his job was a little more difficult. Whilst his initial timing estimate was accurate enough, as Roosevelt Island was only two miles long and a couple hundred meters wide at its widest point, he was stopped every so often by people who had heard he was going to do an animal show there, or that a crocodile or alligator was about, and thus forcing him to explain himself every time, as well as Hogan whenever he was nearby. Not to mention, there seemed to be no sign of any comedians about whatsoever within the surprisingly crowded residential district.

The end result of their search was a good twenty five plus minutes wasted, no target in sight, and a loose crowd forming around their van by the time they made it back to the bridge they’d crossed initially. They’d likely need to deal with that group before they could make their exit, whatever their method.