Alright, before you get on with the story, I would just like to clear something up. This story was up here before, as many of you might know, but then my former account got deleted. So, anyways, the story was once titled "When She Came," but, I decided to er, modify it a little bit.
The first chapter, though, when I first wrote this, didn't get a whole lot of good reviews, but, as I progressed, it became a bit more interesting and stuff. Therefor, please my people, do try to give it a chance. I got up to nine chapters last time, and most of the people seemed to kind of enjoy it, so, yea. Cough cough... now, the most depressing part of the introduction:
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic, except for Felix and her little puppet, but, the little puppet child comes up in later chapters. Please, read and review, and try to enjoy.
CHAPTER 1: Meet Felix
A perfect day, just like the day before, and the day before that. Each passing hour was flawless. His pleasures were satisfied, the bloodlust had been satiated, and the only friendly-looking thing left in the fall afternoon in that dump of a house was the broken couch. Despite a patch or two of leather missing on the back of the couch and the rusting, creaking coils of the mattress making a slight boing! Sound after every attempt to relax on its lumpy cushions, it seemed remarkably comfortable that wonderful Friday afternoon. Johnny, disturbed seemingly-innocent Johnny-boy, was napping on his couch, right eye occasionally squinting a bit more than he other in dreams of distortion to the innocents of the town.
Oh, what a pleasant dream it was to the psychotic boy... the beginning had been quite pleasant. It was after a school football game of the nearby High School, and the cheerleaders were chattering and giggling perkily to one another as they all strutted down the streets in their customary prissy manner. He, Johnny, the Great Murderer, had stalked quietly behind them in the side bushes, a menacing smile stretched over his face. He had managed to "cheer-nap" (That was what the little voice in the back of his head told him to call it) and had dragged her back to his domain. He had strapped her down, and was slowly mutilating her for pleasure. Oh, how she screamed, oh how she bled!
First, he had bound her to a convenient, white cot in a once-vacant room, everything black around the two except for the lamp that dramatically dangled overhead, casting ominous shadows over menacing Johnny's expression. Besides the homicidal maniac was a small gray cart, shelved with scissors, a scalpel, screw driver, machete, chainsaw, practically everything a maniac would need for his murders. Where it had come from he didn't know, but currently he didn't necessarily care. He had used a small dagger nearby on the floor to cut out her tongue, and, (to the cheerleader's great discomfort) blood began to pool in the back of her mouth. If something did not happen soon, she would be drowned in her own crimson regret.
But, to her great inconvenience and dismay (and to Johnny's sick amusement), the straps were bound so that her hands were slapped to her revealed thighs, where it was impossible to twist her wrist around to free herself without snapping some bone in her limb.
Tears were running down her cheeks, as she wailed for someone, but the lack of tongue and the slowly pooling blood made it undecipherable who she was crying out to. Johnny, who was sitting on a three-legged stool (that had also conveniently came out of nowhere), only rested his head in his palm and propped his elbow on one his knee, watching with a devilish smile of glee.
"Enjoying your stay guest?" he asked casually, swaying insanely in his little seat. Deep down though, he was becoming vaguely impatient about how slow this was all taking. He fondled a silver dagger where the victim could not see it, lip pouted out in annoyance... Most of his damned victims met their demise pretty quickly!
The wench shook her head and cried out ever louder. "AWA SOWWA!" She screamed, vomiting a combination of bile and blood in desperation at the frantic scream. "BAH HOO AW OOH ENGWEH WIH?" ((A/N: I'll translate at the end of the chapter))
"Hmmm?" Johnny cocked a brow in an innocent manner, though the cheerleader knew too well that it did not suit him at all. "I'm actually infuriated with no one in particular at the moment... just reflecting the same agony your kind reaped on me... well, that was emotional, but, I decided to let my creative side take control of this and translate it to physical... you likie?"
A gurgle of terror and agony replied to that inquiry.
"Hmmm... you don't seem very happy. You seem to be in a lot more pain than you were supposed to be, but, of course, that might be the point..."
She cried out desperately to anyone, absolutely any human organism who might just so happen to meander nearby.
Johnny laughed out loud, and shook his head. "This is what you get," He said, his voice maniacal and dangerously quiet. "This is what you, and your fucking kind get for calling me different for all of those years, smiling in that mocking way of your and throwing your greatness and beautiful-ness in the lower being's face! Yea, sure, I knew there was something a little bit different about myself, but you and your companions didn't have to ridicule me publicly for all of those years! Well, is that how it is!? You absolutely have to ridicule to climb to the top rank of popularity!? Is it!? I just wanted to be left alone in High School, when I was your age, but NO! YOU ASSHOLES HAD TO COME AND POINT AND LAUGH AND RIDICULE AND CRITISCIZE AND CALL MY HAIR WEIRD AND-"
He had burst out into insane laughter before he had finished his freakishly loud opinion, thrown the knife he had been fondling before behind his shoulder, where he heard it clatter on the wooden planks of the floor. To his immense satisfaction, her already terrified expression was paler than a zombie's and her beautiful blue eyes were wide enough to pop out of her pretty face.
Cackling and shrieking with insanity, he slammed both of his hands onto the hilt of the chainsaw, one accessing the little yellow button that read ON/OFF. The victim screamed in horror, a shrill cry that would have broken glass, if, one, there had been glass, and two, if that rising puddle of lifeblood in her throat hadn't muffled her voice. He sharply whirled around his head at her, his face contorted with insanity, as he arched the chainsaw above his head over her abdomen, the saw vibrating and vrooming impatiently.
His grin was so wide it almost stretched into his ears. Still cackling like a lunatic on crack, he positioned his wrists so that the sharp blade would get her directly in the stomach—
Knock, knock, knock.
Just when he was about to plunge the murderous instrument down, he paused. He thought he had heard something. He blinked and looked back to the girl, who was whimpering still so badly that blood was being choked up with every desperate wail. Shrugging, he directed all of his attention back to her, laughing again, and raised it higher to get greater impact—
Knock, knock, knock.
There it was again! He blinked, growled slightly and impatiently switched the chainsaw button to off mode. "What the fuck is that!?" He demanded to no one in particular, clenching his fist and staring around the darkness wildly. He wheeled a loony eye at the cheerleader, who cringed. "WAS IT YOU!?"
She shook her head violently, issuing sprays of burgundy liquid here and there while claming her eyes shut to block out the silhouette of Johnny as he observed his surrounding tentatively. Knock, knock, knock. What the hell was that? Growing even more and more irritated by the micro-second, he grabbed the nearest knife from his assisting cat, and looked around. He had stepped into the shadows, and—
He had woken up.
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"What the fuck...?" He groaned, as he sat himself up on the couch. He had a glorious, pleasing dream... He was mutilating a formerly-perky cheerleader... his black hair was ruffled, his eyes were half-shut with lingering sleep, and he found that last night's instruments of torture were laid out on the floor, over a dried puddle of vital juices.
What had woken him up though? It was rather irking, and it had disrupted the final stage of his (not really) infamous murders. He sighed and kicked his legs over the couch, and massaged his eyes. What a sweet vision... That was strange though, he almost never dreamt. Come to think of it, he hardly ever slept too. One hell of a day, he reasoned, yawning slightly.
He got up, stretched his skinny back and popped his neck. He had taken a couple of steps forward and opened his mouth to yawn once more—
Knock, knock, knock.
Now he remembered! It was that fucking noise! It had interrupted the best part of the kill, and it had vexed him greatly! Now, he had to DESTROY the source!
In mid yawn, he idly let his arms fall limply to his side at his second stretch, shutting his maw lazily with a faint click. He grabbed the damn door knob, and yanked it open, his eyes one third closed from the faint tingle of sleep. He opened his mouth to groggily demand that the damn solicitor piss off, but found instead that his right eye had opened all the way in confusion, amazement, and annoyance.
In front of him, stood a scrawny feminine being. She was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt that read comically "My Cat Is My Best Friend," with a black that reached a couple of inches above her pale knees. Over her shirt was an unbuttoned trench coat, with the insignia "Z?" over the breast. Around her neck were only a couple of things: a black spiked choker with three-quarters of an inch long metal barbs protruding, and the necklace beneath it, was a silver chain choker with black ribbon entwined within its rings, with Jack Skellington from the Nightmare Before Christmas dangling in the center. Her fingernails were strangely patterned, for on the left hand all five nails were highlighted ebony, but her right limb hand was tinted with the peculiar pattern of white-black-white. Her legs were garmented with black and white knee-high striped socks, and on her feet were strapped steel-toe boots. Her face was pale, and her hair was dark brunette, tied back in a ponytail. Both of her ears were pierced three times in the ear lobe, a safety pin at the bottom, a garnet die in the center, and the top earring a simple black stud. In her right hand was what appeared to be a common black duffel bag, and slung over her shoulder was a small black bag where she obviously had an adventure with white out.
"Can I help you?" Johnny asked casually but leisurely, both optics open now. Most of the sleep had gone away while studying the female stranger.
"You're... er, Johnny, right?" The teenager asked, forgetting to answer his question. She titled her head politely, and arched a brow.
"That would depend on you," He stated truthfully but bluntly. "What do you want?"
"I'm Felix, and, er, I'm new in town," She stated plainly, withdrawing her head back into a proper position gradually. "Um, I need a place to stay. I can't seem to find a good job, and the phone book read "777..." sounds like the code to heaven, or something, and, well... it seems homely. The directory described the owner to be dubbed Jonathon Colt..." Her eyebrow lowered a little bit. "That would be you, right?"
Johnny blinked, caught off his guard entirely. What the fuck...? He thought, putting his hands together idly. "It's very nice to meet you Miss Felix, but, you can't stay here."
Her eyes widened. "But, why-why—"
"First of all, the rooms here aren't exactly sanitary, nor will they be pleasing to a citizen of the likings of you. Second of all, I'm sorry that you can't get a job, but, well, most teenagers can't, but they all seem to be fine! Third of all—"He peeked around the door frame mystically, eyes shifting around in keen observance. "Does this place honestly look like homely heaven to you? And well, last of all, I'm not interested in sharing companionship with anyone at the moment, so if you would please be kind enough to go away—"
He sighed, raising his left hand and using both his index finger and thumb to rub his eyes in soothing circles. The other hand crept its way unnoticeably into his coat pocket, fingering a dagger he always kept with him, while his other continued it's massaging.
"Come on, please, I need a place to stay," The girl dubbed Felix insisted desperately, allowing her suitcase to fall with a flat clunk on the concrete doorstep. "I promise I won't be that annoying... just let me stay a little while, and when I get the money to rent a place of my own—"
A thought suddenly occurred in Johnny's head. If she was that stupid to want to live with him, she might be and easy target. Watching her scream would be most excellent... he raised his eyebrows.
"I'll think about it," He growled, letting his hand retreat from his eyeballs and fall weakly to his flank. His expression did not seem pleased at all, but nevertheless he stepped aside for her to pave her path to her intended doom.
Felix smiled appreciatively, and lifted her suitcase up again before stepping into House 777. Her gaze shifted around the front room in newfound interest, half aware of the faint sound of a click as Johnny politely shut the door behind her. "Quite the colorful human, aren't you?" She asked quietly, almost to no one in particular as she interestedly observed what looked like a sharpened pizza cutter delved into the soft torso of a teddy bear.
Johnny lifted a brow in provocation, feeling the knife in the depths of his pocket vibrate with keenness. He bit his lip and chewed it furiously, taking a couple of steps forward behind her. To his satisfaction and amusement, the knowledge that she was completely unaware of her impending doom... oblivious that her life was going to end within the next three seconds...
Suddenly he halted. What if this Felix girl wasn't such a bad person as she first appears? Well, actually, she had been quite gracious so far, and she hadn't criticized his style of life. But, how would he hide what he likes to do best from her!? There were rotting body parts in some room, secret stairways to lower torture chambers, a blood-stained wall—how oblivious is she going to be to all of those not-so-typical things?
Give her a chance, Nny, He silently told himself, lowering the knife and placing it back into its safe place in his coat compartment. His shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment, as he wheeled around on the heel of his foot towards the mouth of the main corridor that branched off to regular sized rooms on either side. "I guess you can make yourself at home," He breathed, running a slender hand through his tousled black hair and popping his neck absentmindedly. "Er, just try not to touch anything, please."
She raised her eyebrows, and glanced behind her shoulder to regard the true owner of the house, and her indebted smile grew a quarter of a centimeter longer. "Thank you," She replied, turning her head around to study the household. She began her exploration of the house with one hundred percent interest, while commenting from a nearby vacant room, "I like what you've done to the place!"
The homicidal maniac arched a brow in mild surprise as he tapped his fingers together beneath his chin, pondering the situation he damned himself into. "Don't get used to it," He found himself muttering bitterly, sauntering off silently down the hallway and into the nearest unoccupied room.
This was definitely a first for Johnny. No one had ever dared to approach his house (except for "dear" friend Jimmy, or "Mmy." And we all saw why no one ever approached); and all of the people foolish enough to visit him never arrived in such a manner. To live here, in this blood-drowned hellhole? What the hell is she thinking!?
He sighed once again, and shook his head. He seemed to be doing that quite frequently these days...
Maybe this Felix girl won't be so bad... maybe she could assist on a kill or something, or help him scheme more ideas on how to destroy the beautiful people. Of course, he would have to learn to trust her first, but, she was just another one of those animalistic organisms in human disguises... it's what most of humanity is, after all. What would ever make her so damn special that she wasn't like the other people? She might call the police on him when he was in a homicidal mood... that's never good. But then there is also the possibility that on the outside she's normal, but deep down, she has a twisted, demented, murderous heart... but, that was unlikely, since there didn't seem to be a trace of inadequate-ness in her to prove that. Would she have the nerve to tell anyone though? After seeing some of the horrors he had committed in the past, she might become so insane she wouldn't be able to speak properly. It might be nice, though, to have someone sitting besides him when he was watching the stars at night. But, this person could be a downright asshole and the whole thing with the manners could just be a fucking act to convince him that she was a nice little girl, who will eventually reveal her true identity as a bossy bitch that will force him to do everything she demands! But, no... if it ever did result to something that drastic, he could always just slaughter her and get on with every day life. He did that nearly every day with other people...
Chuckling, he shook his head and he slumped back against the wall, slowly sliding down in custom sadness. He was thinking about this issue too much. He was getting concerned over something that will probably be pointless in the future. What could it hurt? She wasn't dangerous, oh no, much too polite to be proven criminally insane...
This was a moment, in which he wished that he still had Nailbunny to converse with.
Erm, yes, cough-cough. That was chapter one, and, for those of you who had read it before, I did indeed make a few modifications to the dialouge and situation. I know it seems a bit Mary Suish right now, but, please kinda give it a chance. When one thinks about it, this kind of is my first Johnny fic, and stuff. So, yea. Anyways, please leave a review on waht you think and stuff. Yes.
Oh yes, and i did say I would translate the bawling cheerleader creature of doom. Um, yea, here we go:
AWA SOWWA, BUH HOO AW OOH ANGWEH WIH!?
Translated (calmly): I'm sorry, but who are you angry with?
I want a monkey for Christmas... dyah, I'm getting off track again. Wonderful. Anyways, yet again, please leave a review to let me know what you people thingies think and stuff. Er, um, yea. Buh byeish.
.::.:.::.:AnathA:.::.:.::.