[center][h3][color=fff79a]Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka[/color][/h3][/center] 

Chloe grimaced and covered her ears as another bomb went off, almost blowing the Russian to smithereens. Chloe smiled apolgetically over at the Speedwagon Agent.

[color=fff79a]"Bloody hell! You alright there, Tupolev? That was close! We gotta get this bastard!"[/color] Chloe called out, hiding behind a rock. She levelled a beige colored arm towards a small cluster of buildings. [color=fff79a]"I saw it! They're shootin' at us from over there!"[/color] She glanced around.

[color=fff79a]"Well, I'm assumin' we're not about to let these Nazi bellends blow our whole operation, right? We gotta get 'em! And I've got a good way to close the gap!"[/color] There was no way Chloe was going to sit back and let her new friends get decimated. Wrapped around her shoulder was a leather holster, and riding on her back there was a classic british submachinegun- the Sten Gun. Simple, tube-like design with a magazine receptable on the left side of the gun. Unholstering the gun she held it between her hands, slammed the magazine inside and racked the slide. Determined but nervous eyes complemented her uneasy, toothy grin.

Fellow Stand Users would began to see yellow energy flick up the young woman's bare arms and legs until a glowing aura surrounded her form.

[color=fff79a]"Puttin' on the Ritz!" [/color] She called out to reassure herself of her convinctions.

Over Chloe's shoulder apparated a ghostly, porcelain, lanky, towering seven foot tall humanoid. It was all bright white skin with wood and brass apparel. A pair of luscious doll-like lips and a strong, pointed nose could be seen from underneath the polished wooden sallet helmet, striking green eyes shadowed within. It's oak crop top was connected to segmented mahagony trousers via four suspenders. Attatched to it's back- no, embedded in it's back was a record player, and from this record player two gramaphone horn tubes rose like snakes wher they embedded itself in the Stands shoulders and burst out the other side like brass exit wounds. 

Chloe and the Stand turned to glanced at each other at the same time, their ponytails drifting in the wind.

[color=fff79a]"Disc 3, Side B. We need cover."[/color] Chloe nodded towards her truest self.

The Stand responded, moving it's too-long arms quickly to the apparatus embedded in it's skin and oak top. With expert precision, taking no more than a second, it swapped the disc in the record player with another one stored in a slot at the top of the player. As it moved, there was the soft, warm crackle of vinyl static, as if the entire thing was merely an illusion conjured forth by the sound of a vinyl disc.

[color=fff79a]"Okay, ladies, gentleman,"[/color] She gestured to her compatriots. [color=fff79a]"Follow me lead, we'll be shovin' boots up Jerry's bum in no time." [/color] Chloe kept up a face of good humor, but her Stand's mouth was a line that quirked into itself on one side, as if someone was contemplating a difficult math problem. It's eyes were hidden underneath the helmet but one could assume it's painted on eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. 

With that, the record player began to spin, and the effects of a smoke grenade burst into life from the Stand. Chloe was now completely submerged in a thick grey fog that no sharpshooter could penetrate. Chloe moved into the middle of the group, standing out in the open. Anyone looking to fire upon the group wouldn't be able to see anything through the massive cloud. Chloe moved with a quickened crouch run, her Stand about ten feet to the left of her to maximise deployment range of the smoke so her allies could follow her.

[color=fff79a]"If anyone shoots at me...shoot them!" [/color] Chloe called out, a laugh entering her voice towards the end. 

[hider=Canned Stand Description]
Stand Description: Ritz is slick, sleek, and slender. It is all wood, brass, and porcelain. Mahogany and oak panels make up a majority of it's being, with brass rings, nails and studs keeping it together. Every once and a while there is a flash of Ritz's skin, which is white and as flawless as porcelain. The largest shows of skin are Ritz mouth and nose, with it's vibrant crimson lips, and it's midiff which is flat and unlined with the exception of it's navel. It's elbows and knees have wooden panels that extend outward six inches into the open air, triangular wooden halfpipes that deflect the wind. It's eyes are moslty covered but underneath it's wooden visor one will occasionally catch a glimpse of them. They are humanesque. They directly mingle with the porcelain face revealing that the porcelain skin is in fact Ritz' real skin. They have white iris' and green, pupiless eyes. Ritz wears a unique wooden helmet. It rises up above her head like a ramp that deflect the air away. Out of this hole, a brown ponytail lazily drifts. A hole at the base of the helmet emanates a constant cool breeze.

Mounted on each shoulder is a small brass gramophone horn, pointed forward. They are connected to a flat wooden box on Ritz back. This box is the base of a record player, with needle included. One the side of this box are four slits with a vinyl disc poking its edge out in each. There is one vinyl record on the player itself, ready to be played. This recorder box is built directly into Ritz' body.

Ritz wears wooden gauntlets that are studded with brass at the knuckes. Her arms are also slightly longer than they should be proportionally. It wears segmented wooden trousers ride up a few inches beneath Ritz belly button. They are connected with wiry suspenders to a slick wooden crop top that goes around the gramophones base to make room. Ritz is shiny, all of it's wood and brass are polished and reflective. 

As Ritz moves, the sound of wood on wood, brass on brass can be heard from within her. Aswell as the sound of a vinyl record currently playing no sound, the warm static of analogue music, can be heard whenever she appears or disappears. This warm static sharpens and rises into a cracking crescendo whenever Ritz moves quickly. Ritz has no obvious personality of it's own. When left to it's own devices it mimicks a habit of it's user and quietly hums to herself. Whenever it speaks, it sounds as if it's being played on a record. Crackling, spotty, analogue and homely. Other than this voice filter, it's voice is that of Chloe's. When it does talk, it's porcelain mouth does open and there is a tongue and teeth inside, though they are also made of some kind of ceramic material. 
[/hider]