The Bonds that Shape the Universe Again (A Persona/Batman Adventure)

Part: 20: Something to Work Out (Arc 1: Save Yourself)

[]Elemental strikes: Summon Icarus and strike it with wind and fire!
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You took a deep breath and fixed your gaze on the Shadow. This one was different from the last one you faced with Zatanna. It wasn't just menacing, it was terrifying. Unlike the weakened and desperate entity you had encountered before, this Shadow was fully realized. There was no fear in its presence, no weariness from prior battles. It was whole, powerful, and hungry.

The way it shifted and morphed made your stomach churn. Its form was fluid, rippling between shapes, a serpent one moment, a beast the next, and then something unrecognizable but deeply unsettling. It exuded raw, unbridled malice, and yet... you couldn't help but feel a thrill. Fear and exhilaration mixed in your chest, making your heart race. Icarus stirred within you, his fiery wings blazing to life in your mind's eye, itching to be unleashed.

But there was hesitation. From both sides. The Shadow didn't immediately attack, and you didn't immediately summon. It was a tense standoff, like two predators circling each other, waiting for the first sign of weakness.

Then it roared. A guttural, primal sound that echoed through the alleyway and rattled your very bones. Without thinking, you roared back, the sound erupting from deep within your chest as flames ignited behind you. Icarus burst forth, his blazing form stretching wide as he emerged from your back like a phoenix being reborn.

"PERSONA!" you shouted, your voice carrying with it the fury of fire and will. Flames erupted from Icarus and surged toward the Shadow, consuming the alleyway in a brilliant blaze.

But the Shadow didn't flinch. The flames licked at its form, but instead of recoiling in pain or fear, it absorbed them. The fire seemed to sink into its oozing body, fueling it, making it stronger. It grew larger, darker, more menacing.

Then it screamed. The sound was unlike anything you had ever heard, inhuman, piercing, and raw. You covered your ears, but it wasn't enough. The noise tore through you, leaving you disoriented, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of its power.

The Shadow took advantage of your vulnerability, lurching forward. A tendril shot out, striking you in the chest with enough force to knock the wind out of you. You stumbled back, gasping, clutching at your ribs. It loomed over you, its shifting form casting an oppressive shadow.

But you weren't done. Gritting your teeth, you summoned Icarus again. "PERSONA!" you shouted, this time calling upon the winds. A powerful gale surged forth, battering the Shadow with relentless force.

Yet it didn't falter. Instead, it drove its mass into the ground, anchoring itself. The wind tore at it, but it stood its ground, unmoving. The Shadow's resilience was terrifying. No matter what you threw at it, it refused to budge.

"Icarus, we need more!" you called, desperation creeping into your voice.

The Shadow shifted, its rippling form preparing for a devastating counterattack. The air grew colder, heavier, as its dark tendrils slithered toward you, twisting and curling like the claws of some ancient beast. A chilling numbness crept over your limbs, and before you could react, an icy paralysis gripped you.

Your breath hitched as frost spread across your skin, creeping upward and encasing you in a crystalline shell. It wasn't just cold, it was a deep, soul-freezing void, as if the very essence of warmth and life were being drained from your body. Icarus, your constant companion and fiery shield, flickered out of existence. It felt as though he had been ripped from your soul, leaving behind an emptiness that amplified your vulnerability.

The Shadow loomed closer, its dark, ever-shifting form towering over you. Its eyes, or what you thought were eyes, were voids, pools of endless blackness. Staring into them was like peering into the abyss, and within that abyss, you saw something far worse than death: oblivion. A cold sweat formed despite the freezing grip on your body. Your voice trembled as you whispered, "Help."

Your plea barely left your lips before a deafening roar shattered the oppressive silence. John's voice, raw and unyielding, echoed through the alleyway as a monstrous black steed barreled into view. The Headless Horseman's spectral mount smashed into the Shadow, sending it recoiling in a spray of inky darkness.

John stepped forward, his presence commanding and utterly transformed. His demeanor was no longer hesitant or uncertain, he moved with purpose, with the weight of something ancient and terrible behind him. His figure had changed in ways that made your stomach churn. The simple brown mask he had worn now resembled a grotesque burlap sack, its surface warped and twisted, with a heavy iron chain wrapped around his neck like a noose. His clothes, once practical and unremarkable, now hung from him like tattered funeral shrouds, stained and rotted as though they had been exhumed from a grave.

"Get away from my friend," he growled, his voice low and menacing. Chains clattered ominously in the shadows around him, their metallic rattle carrying the weight of judgment.

The transformation didn't stop there. John's aura radiated something primal, something far darker than the man you had known. It was as if he had tapped into a force buried deep within, a force he had been afraid to unleash, until now.

"All my life, I've been afraid," John began, his voice rising, carrying with it the rage of years spent in chains of fear. "Afraid of my father. Afraid of other people. Afraid of myself!" His hands curled into fists, his entire being trembling with raw energy. "And the one person who saw me as more than that, who taught me how to be me…"

He turned his hollow, masked face toward the Shadow, his voice a thunderous declaration: "I am no longer afraid. For I am fear!"

The chains around him sprang to life, slithering and lashing out like serpents. The Shadow recoiled as they struck, each blow resounding with the weight of retribution. John's presence filled the alleyway, his transformation complete. For the first time, the Shadow hesitated, its confidence shaken by the relentless fury of this new force.

And then, there was nothing.

The Headless Horseman eviscerated the Shadow with its spectral power. The air vibrated with the sheer force of its presence, and the Shadow, so menacing moments before, seemed to fold in on itself, unraveling into tendrils of inky blackness. It was as if it finally understood the gap in strength between itself and the force it faced.

The oppressive chill lifted, and the Shadow was gone, dissipating into the natural darkness of the night. The only evidence that it had ever existed was the wad of money lying where its monstrous form had once loomed, now a mundane and almost pitiful remnant of its menace.

"Wow," you breathed, staring at the empty space. "What happened to your clothes?"

John glanced down at himself, his burlap sack mask and tattered, grimy clothing shifting slightly in the cool night breeze. He shrugged, the chain around his neck clinking faintly. "I don't know. When you went for the attack, I froze. I didn't know what to do. And then…" He hesitated, his voice quieter. "The Horseman spoke to me. He told me I could choose. I could stay the way I was, afraid, and unsure, or I could become what I want to be. What I was meant to be."

You tilted your head, curious. "And that is being a—?"

"Scarecrow," he interrupted, his voice resolute. He gestured toward himself, his new, unnerving appearance emphasizing his point. "They never get scared. They stand their ground. They serve a purpose, to protect the fields, to keep out anything that threatens the harvest."

His gaze drifted to the horizon, his tone softening but gaining weight. "The fields are more than just crops. They're home. They're everything I care about. And I'll do whatever it takes to guard them."

You nodded, watching as John squared his shoulders, his transformation now complete. His newfound confidence and eerie presence were striking. But then your eyes darted to the wad of cash lying on the ground.

"Holy crap, that's a lot of money!" you exclaimed, rushing to scoop it up.

It was over a thousand dollars, maybe more. "I barely got a hundred last time I went out… That thing must have been really powerful."

"Well, I should get some of it," John said, crossing his arms. "Seeing as I beat the crap out of it and saved you from becoming a popsicle."

"You got the cool costume! Plus, what do you even need money for? You've got your dad, and you have a place to live!" you protested, clutching the cash defensively.

John shrugged, his burlap mask shifting slightly with the motion. "Well, I do want to start saving for college."

You stared at him, incredulous. "You're ten. Why are you thinking about college?"

"Because it's better than becoming another cog in Gotham's machines," he said matter-of-factly. "Plus, I want to become a doctor. You know, an actual authority on the human mind and stuff like that."

"You're so weird," you muttered, shaking your head. After a moment of deliberation, you sighed and began splitting the money. "Fine. Five hundred each. Fair?"

"Done," John said, snatching his share with a satisfied smirk. "But seriously, how come you don't get a cool costume like I did?"

"I didn't even know I could get a cool costume like that!" you replied, throwing your arms up. "How does that even happen? Is there some kind of… magical tailor I'm supposed to call or something?"

John chuckled. "Maybe Icarus has to burn through your closet first. Or maybe you're just not scary enough."

You glared at him, though you couldn't help but smirk a little. "I'm plenty scary, thank you very much. I just prefer style over… burlap chain and crap."

"Keep telling yourself that, junior detective," John said, already turning toward the dark streets ahead. "Let's head back. Something tells me we're not done for the night."

"Yeah," you muttered, glancing at the charred remains of the alleyway where the Shadow had vanished. "Not even close."

Then you paused. "Junior detective!? I am a true detective John… you're just a scarecrow!"

John then laughed. "Again, keep telling yourself that."

Reward: Gain 500 dollars.

John now has a Scarecrow disguise. Unknown Effect.

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John is feeling Great. He can go on for a while.

Adam is feeling good. That last fight scared him, but he can keep going?:

What do you do:

[]Keep Going: Well the night is still young.

[]Go Home: That was frightening… and it might be better to go home… and stew over your lack of a cool costume.

AN: Enjoy.