Chapter Text
Basel roared with excitement as the Eurovision Song Contest began. Crowds watched with bated breath as the contestants took to the stage. However, something was off. When called, Tommy Cash made no appearance. At first, it seemed like a technical error as they repeated the call for Estonia to take to the stage, only for no one to appear. Instead, they continued with the roll-call of countries until right at the end when they went to unveil the trophy. Only to find an empty podium. Frantically, producers across the concert hall began to search frantically as the hosts tried to salvage the opening.
Just outside, Tommy Cash smuggled the case under his suit and booked it across the now-empty Basel streets. However, it wasn’t long before he was eventually discovered. However, it wasn’t by the producers or technical staff. Instead, he ran directly into the VÆB brothers, Hálfdán and Matthías. They blocked the road out, Matthías menacingly holding a wooden oar toward Tommy.
“Hand the Trophy over!” They both shouted in unison, edging closer to the Estonian contestant. Tommy held his hands up and shook his head.
“You don’t understand.” He began as he clenched the briefcase. “The contest has been rigged, I’ve seen what they’re going to do with the televote points!”
The two brothers looked confused, but lowered their guard slightly. Hálfdán raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, rustling his silver jacket.
“Go on.” He prompted, though he motioned to his brother to stay on guard.
“They’re going to give three hundred and fifty points to Israel, so many that no one else would be able to pass them with the remaining dispersion of points. You two aren’t even going to get past 40!” Tommy stated.
Before the two Icelandic brothers could even comprehend the information they’d been given, the sound of rushing footsteps came from up the street. In the blink of an eye, Tommy Cash was tackled across the tarmac. He picked himself up quickly to find a figure looming over him.
“Hand the trophy over.” Gabry Ponte snarled as two dark figures emerged from behind him. Tommy immediately recognised it as his ability. Gabry saw the panic in Tommy’s expression and nodded. “You know of my ability, Tutta L’italia!”
Two masked men stepped out, cloaked in dark clothes. They reached down for the briefcase, only for both to be batted away by a wooden oar. Matthías stood at the ready, allowing Tommy to get back up and enter a fighting stance. Gabry smirked and sent the two masked men back toward the duo of contestants.
Tommy and Matthías began to battle as Gabry watched. However, he failed to notice the looming shadow as Hálfdán conjured his Stand above the San Marino contestant. Gabry looked up to see a large boat descend onto him. He recalled his masked men to hold the immense weight of Hálfdán’s stand.
“Both my brother and I share the same stand!” Hálfdán announced as he stepped forward. “However, we manifest it in different ways. That stand is...”
With those words, Matthías rushed forward and struck Gabry Ponte with the oar, both brothers declaring their stand’s name with the strike.
“RÓA!”
With their shared cry, Gabry was sent sliding across the road. He lay there unconscious, his stand dissolving where he once stood. Tommy rushed over with the briefcase in hand and revealed the back of Gabry’s head, showing a small bud of flesh.
“What is that?” Matthías asked with a look of disgust etched across his face.
“This is an ability of the EBU itself.” Cash explained as he assessed the bud of flesh. “A way to control its contestants. It seems you two were spared somehow.”
Tommy then summoned his stand, Espresso Macchiato, taking the form of a bald, muscular bodyguard. The stand reached down and removed the bud of flesh with precision. Gabry convulsed for a moment before lying still. Tommy stood up, and the stand crushed the bud between its fingers before vanishing.
“He’ll be fine now.” Cash said as he picked the briefcase back up.
“What now?” Hálfdán asked. “We can’t just leave the other contestants like that!”
“I know,” Tommy replied, dusting his suit off. “I’ve called for some assistance, some people who can definitely help.”
“Who?” The brothers asked.
Inside the stadium, someone skulked between the crowds of searching staff and confused fans. Eventually, the stalking figure was able to make it onto the stage, hiding above it in the lights. They waited and waited for an opportunity to strike, and that chance soon came when Erika Vikman robotically walked onto the stage. She glanced around, but didn’t notice the bright pink ribbon slowly descending from above.
However, when the ribbon made contact with her, she grabbed it and yanked it down from above. A neon green blur fell from above, landing on his feet and staring Erika down. The Finnish contestant felt a smirk spread across her face as she looked her opponent up and down. Noticing the bright pink stand made up of ribbons behind him.
“Hello, Käärijä.” She stepped closer, summoning a golden mic-stand into her hands. Käärijä said nothing in reply as he cracked his knuckles and nodded. His stand stretched its hands out, and the ribbon that made up its limbs unfurled and shot out toward Erika. She leapt back and swatted the strands away with her mic stand.
Several more golden stands appeared behind her and launched toward Käärijä. While his stand was able to block a few, two made direct contact with his body, and he was sent backwards across the stage. As he went to stand up once more, he found himself and his stand restricted and pinned by several stands.
Erika broke free of the ribbons holding her and stood over him with a robotic smile. She held her hand up and channelled her energy into summoning a much larger mic stand that hung above both of them.
“That was much easier than expected, Käärijä.” Erika mocked as her stand descended from above. “Almost like you were holding back.”
Käärijä said nothing and stared blankly up at her. He shook his head and motioned behind her to the edge of the stage.
“Just distracting you.” He grinned as a cry came from across the stage.
“Europapa!”
A blue fist crashed into Erika’s face and grabbed her, slamming the Finnish woman into the stage. The stand that held her down was robotic in form, wearing a blue suit with pointed shoulders. Across the stage stood the user of the stand. Joost Klein.
Joost menacingly walked across the stage, his footsteps ringing out across the now-empty concert hall. Erika struggled under the stand as he kneeled next to her. He grabbed the flesh bud at the back of her neck and effortlessly pulled it out. He tossed it into the air, and his stand shot up, demolishing the flesh bud in a barrage of punches.
“Thank you for the assist,” Käärijä said as he freed himself and turned to Joost. “Will she be alright?”
Joost pursed his lips and shrugged as he looked around.
“Maybe? Probably best to stay and make sure.” He said before recalling his stand to him. He felt an odd sense of discomfort as the two men waited. Joost periodically checked his phone while Käärijä sat with Erika. Käärijä then looked at Joost quizzically.
“How’d you know to come?” the Finn asked.
“Cash called me.” He replied with yet another shrug.
At that moment, the sound of footsteps came from behind them. They looked back to see the large arch that made up the front of the stage. No one was visibly there, that was until they looked up to see a figure at the top of the structure. They readied their stands once more as Red Sebastian dropped down with a malicious grin.