Holy Diver! Rumble with the Dead Sea Destroyer!

Leaves rustled, the large branches of the trees around the small compound shaking in the breeze. Men sat on the walls, leaning casually against the palisades, peering out into the night casually and chuckling. Faintly, frightened whimpers could be heard from within the structure. Curiously, however, the guards carried no guns, only a variety of bladed implements. For those guarding a secret jungle base, even a small one, they seemed quite confident. Pausing, one of them cocked his head, and turned towards the woods. "Ey, you hear that?"

The group paused, and as one, looked into the distance. It seemed like there was some sort of disturbance. A few branches could be heard crashing, and some sort of tropical bird or another flew squawking away. There was a pause as they listened to the sound, and then one shrugged. "Must be a jaguar or something. Sounds like some kind of huge animal, anyway." There was a chorus of assenting grunts, and a few snorts. One of the men picked up a sword, and hefted it experimentally, then hurled it, end over end, into the woods. The blade hissed away, and then a second later, the susurration ceased. One of the uniformed guards, a star on his peaked cap, smacked the man across the back of his head.

"Idiota." Pointing into the woods, he snapped his fingers. "Pick it up and get back to work." The younger guard snarled, revealing some abnormally sharp teeth, and turned away, spitting and shoving his hands in his pockets. Easily hopping the low wooden wall, he moved across the clearing and into the woods, vanishing into the tree-line in the direction the sword had gone. As the others went back to their previous activities, the guard began peering around, looking for the sword. Pausing, he frowned. There was a large hole in a tree, consistent with his throw, but no sword. What had- "Hey there, looking for this?" He had barely enough time to turn, noting the glinting metal blade and the dripping sap and wooden splinters marring it's sheen, before the the glint disappeared. Having a sword jammed through your face tends to do a fairly effective job of ruining a polish on said sword.

The scream echoed through the woods, and the guards around the wall turned, looking outwards in surprise. Immediately, the Captain lept to the wall, staring out with narrowed eyes. He snapped out a hand, and barked out "You five, stay here. The rest, spread out and find whatever did that. GO!" Crossing his arms, his head tilted downward and mouth split into the most unholy of grins. "Bring it here, and I will drink it dry...." Inside, a group of young men and women lay tied and gagged, eyes moist and bodies trembling. One of their number was in the corner, under a patch of freshly turned earth. The hut stank of excrement and sweat, and the walls were covered in scratches and suspicious stains.

Outside, the guards stalked through the forest, a half-dozen "Men" peering about with vaguely crimson glints in their eyes. Suddenly, one of them yelped and vanished into the underbrush, before a sickening scream came from the place he had vanished. Two of the closest raiders whipped about and threw their blades in that direction, following after with yells of rage. There was a pause, and then the two mooks flew backwards, hitting a nearby tree with a sickening crack. As they struggled up, their comrades could see a glowing yellow mess tracing up their bodies, which were cracking along widening lines. Then, from that direction, something else moved. The three remaining guards stared, confused at first, then in shock. "What...."

On the palisade, the Captain stared in disbelief. " ... The FUCK?". A tree trunk had just been torn out of the ground, and sent his men flying backwards, the tree GLOWING. Although he wasn't aware, this trio was actually momentarily luckier than the others. Conducting Hamon through an entire tree wasn't really feasible at his level.

From the woods, a shape burst forth, a massive horned beast scampering across the ground. Beneath it, a muscular man with a mane of red hair was kicking through the air, grinning like a lunatic. His gloved hands crackled with Hamon, and he was headed right for the wall. Victor cackled to himself, and felt his stand sighing above. As one of the vampires tried to stand, it was impaled by a strike from White Death's claw, and fell to the ground screaming. The center of his torso was now a fairly large quantity of white, granular salt, which had to hurt like an absolute bitch. Boot slamming into the face of the uniformed killer that hand landed just shy of the wall, the demented priest launched himself skyward.

"I looked, and beheld a pale horse!" With a flinging of his arm, a chain came uncoiled, and wrapped about the torso of one of the remaining guards. He had just enough time to think "Why is it oily?" before the solar charge passed through him. Screaming in pain, he staggered away, clawing at his body, while Victor leapt upwards, landing between the others and cackling once more. "And his name that sat on him was DEATH, and HELL FOLLOWED AFTER HIM!" With a scrape of his boot, he spun, the chain whipping back around and slashing towards the remaining guards. The Captain, a bestial howl echoing from his undead lungs, charged towards them. Victor glanced over his shoulder, and suddenly sprung forward, grabbing the arms of the two his chain had burned. They had blocked, and were now desperately trying to claw away the Hamon-infected flesh.

Shoving them in a V behind him, the Captain was impaled on the sudden sunlit spike. At least, this was the plan. Instead, one of the two remaining guards was tripped into the impromptu trap, and his corpse used as a springboard. The priest was, honestly, a little flattered. His maneuver was impressive enough to warrant copying? Perhaps he should get a patent. Was a holy man allowed to get patents? Concerns for later. The Captain was grabbing a dagger, and with superhuman agility, bringing it down towards Victor's exposed back. The priest threw himself to one side, tumbling off the makeshift battlements and falling onto the roof of the hut below. Inside, the bound teens whimpered at the sudden cacophonous thud.

"And they were given dominion over one fourth of the Earth! To kill by SWORD!" As the Captain lept downwards, knife held high, a clawed arm shot forward, stabbing into his body and halting his movement. Leaping to his feet, coat billowing in the moonlight and glasses glinting, the priest slammed his arm forward in a brutal overhand blow. "By FAMINE!" The Captain gasped, and blood spewed from his mouth. He opened it wider, intending to say something, but was interrupted by the other arm of the Stand slashing across his body, as it began to crumble. "By PLAGUE! And-"

As the vampire's body salinated, a kukiri embedded itself in the mad priest's shoulder. He crumpled forward, and the last remaining guard, who had been hiding ever since the lunatic came out of the woods, stepped past. Picking up the gold starred cap, he chuckled. "Look at me. I'm the Captain now..." Rising to put it on, he paused, suddenly glancing to one side. Over his shoulder, in the soft glow of the crescent moon on this clear night, the lenses of the man's glasses seemed to be glowing along with his teeth. "And by the BEASTS OF THE EARTH!" The unfortunate underling's promotion was brutally denied, as Victor's hands swept back, and with a devastating blow, sent the man's body slamming down through the roof, where it collapsed into embers in front of a very surprised group of kidnapped volunteers.

Dropping down through the sudden skylight, Victor peered at them, then smiled warmly. "Ah, wonderful, wonderful" he crowed, rubbing his hands together. "I'm so glad you're safe. Here, let me help." Leaning down, he began undoing the restraints, removing gags and giving the blood-starved wrists of the captives a good rub to get some circulation going. Pausing at the last one, he studied his face and hands for a second, then reached into his coat and pulled out a simple silver pen and a scrap of paper. Scribbling on it for a moment, he tucked it into the young man's breast pocket, then winked and gave him a pair of finger pistols. A second later, as the group began standing up, the noise of a helicopter coming in from over the tree-line gave them pause.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Victor leapt up through the hole in the roof, and then onto the wall, before dashing away into the forest. As the helicopter's blades slowed down, numerous men bearing an ornate cross on their outfits rushing into the compound to secure the hostages, one of the women turned to the man. "What did he give you?". The man's brows furrowed, and he mouthed silently for a moment, before blinking and turning the piece of paper around to show the others. It said, in surprisingly neat handwriting given the speed it had been written in, "Call me." Followed by a string of digits. One of the medics, who had entered the doorway of the hut a moment before, simply sighed and began attending to the malnourished college students.