Author: Rokateer PM
This is just a Halloween fic for MeltedClay. Because she's awesome. Uuuuh, it's violent, and I don't wanna be expelled from the site, so I'm rating it.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Horror - Words: 1,253 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Published: 11-19-12 - id: 8718167
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Haunted Haus
Author: Mentlegen Domi.
Rating: T for horror and intoxicating substances such as Pixy Stix. Don't ask.
Warnings: Little demon children (uhuh.), a wizard (you know where this is going), a bunch of comets (no, I'm kidding), drugged Pixy Stix, minor appearance of Selacia, and Abigail. Way too much Abigail.
Pairings: Um. None.
Notes: This turned out as a little request/gift fic for the lovely MeltedClay. Yep. Anyway, enjoy!
It was a long way down the hall to Murderface's room, Pickles thought, as he looked for the bassist's quarters in an effort to find someone to do shrooms with. Too long. Okay. There it was. Finally. Pickles raised a fist to knock at the dingy door covered in ancient German and Celtic runes, most likely carved in by Murderface's Imperial dagger. It took several seconds before the bassist opened, and Pickles understood why. The interior of the room was a mess comparable to Godzilla stomping on a barn, raking his foot across the ground and thus effectively shredding the animals inside, and shitting on top of it all. However, Murderface's room put that kind of mess to complete and total shame. And honestly Godzilla shit probably also smelled a heck of a lot better. Murderface didn't look too happy to see him. He threw the drummer a withering glare and spat, "What could you poschibly want at thisch time of the night, Picklesch?", obviously intent on having his (none-too-effective) beauty sleep.
Pickles rolled his eyes and sneered, "Whai dontcha doo dregs wid sumbahdy ils, den? Am Ai pissin' yew aff 'r whet?"
"Yesch, yesch you are pisching me off, scho I reqeuscht that you leave my quartersch now."
Said he and stomped away in search of Toki. "TOOOOAWKEE!", he shrieked loudly enough to wake up Skwisgaar, who went with him to see Toki, though for other reasons than the drummer. (A/N: Ahem.)
"Pickle, why ams you up?", he asked in a relatively bored voice. Pickles shrugged and replied, "Ah'm likkin' fer Toawkee."
"Ah.", was all that Skwisgaar's brain managed at the moment's notice. He didn't seem to give a fuck. As long as he found Toki himself, he figured. He did. The Norwegian was sleepwalking, talking about sexy horses and drunk crows and mermaids with shells for pets. Skwisgaar led him away gently, mumbling disapprovingly, "You's been up for fars too long, littles Toki.", sounding like a mother.
Pickles kicked the wall in frustration. Only Nathan left. Well, it seemed that he always ended up with Nathan no matter where he planned to be. So he just trotted slowly, at a very lazy pace, to the vocalist's room in hope of being able to eat little tiny mushrooms with him, preferably slathered in lots of ketchup (A/N: I knew someone who ate the shrooms with ketchup.) and washed down with lots of vodka. He was lucky this time. He reached the younger man's room, knocked, and waited.
Nathan let him in, looking slightly chagrined, and closed the door again. "I… you interrupted me.", he explained and glanced down nervously. Pickles chuckled. "Jeackin' ahff?"
"Uh. Yeah. Yes."
"'s cool, dood, Ah dun maind."
"Okay… uh, what did you want?"
"Ah wented ta doo shrooms."
"Okay. Lemme see what you've got.", Nathan muttered and closed the door behind himself. He sat on his bed silently, waiting for Pickles' shroom loot to appear, and twiddled his thumbs. The drummer tossed a ziplok bag of shrooms at him and grinned. It was a quart bag, and it was full to the brim. "That'll last a while.", Nathan noticed appreciatively and started when he heard a ring at the doorbell. "Fuck, I forgot, it's Halloween.", he groveled and got up. Pickles followed not far behind. The halls were huge, so it took the two a good 15 minutes to reach the door.
Nathan tore the door open and snapped, "Hey, you, little kids, we're, uh… kinda busy here, if you know what I mean?", looking like a barbarian in his torn, faded black jeans and football shirt. The kids were not impressed in the slightest. The smallest one, a brat of perhaps 4 years, screeched "TRICK OR TREAT" and wormed herself through the door before Nathan or Pickles could recover.
The chase led through all of Mordhaus, and it didn't end until Charles was standing in the door angrily, his arms crossed over his chest, hair messed up, glasses sliding down his nose, but still incredibly dignified.
"What's, ah, going on, if I may ask?", he snapped and gave the little girl a death stare. She simply giggled and squealed when Nathan picked her up to hoist her over his shoulder. Seconds later he roared and dropped her on the floor, blood leaking from a crescent mark on his left shoulder. "The little brat fucking bit me!", he howled and darted after her, still very fast despite his bulk.
"Nathan, she's a kid. Just a little child.", Charles sighed and leaned against the wall. Pickles shrugged. They waited for the two to return; with the pace they were laying on, surely it couldn't take more than 20 minutes to cover all of the 'Haus. But when it took them over 35 minutes, Charles sensed that something was very wrong. He was rewarded with a scream, a giggle, and more howls of… pain, it seemed. But Nathan never screamed like that. The girl must be torturing him to the extreme. Or he was high and he was being a weakling. To oppose that, the girl reappeared seconds later. She looked nothing like previously. She had grown at least two feet, her face looked much more grown-up, and a pair of deadly, dripping claws had been magicked onto her hands. They were covered in blood. But she was unmistakably the little girl Nathan had been chasing.
Speaking of Nathan, the vocalist appeared seconds later, whimpering like a beaten dog, swaying oddly. "She-", he started and teetered towards them, looking like a zombie from Night Of The Living Dead. Pickles gave him an odd glance and asked, "Whut heappened, Nate?"
"She- aw, fuck, she tried to skewer me over with her fucking claws… and she ripped open my gut.", he choked out, close to tears. He raised his shirt, displaying a surprisingly flat, muscular stomach, and part of his chest. Both were drenched in blood. Charles cringed visibly. "You'll have to go to the doctor's and get that disinfected, Nathan. I'm not sure, but, ah, I think her, ah, claws were poisoned."
Nathan yelped in anger and fear. He tried to grab the girl and throttle her, but she'd already disappeared. Defeated, he slumped against the wall and muttered, "It hurts, Charles.", sounding like a child that had scraped his knee on the sidewalk. Charles couldn't help smiling mildly, his eyes glazed over with fear and worry, but amused at the thought of Nathan Explosion being hurt by a little girl, and seriously at that. Nathan glared at him viciously, his eyes wild with pain and anger, looking ready to give the mangaer a few good, hard punches. Charles merely stalked away and called behind himself, "I'll go find a doctor."
Nathan whined quietly and muttered, "Fuck you!".
Several minutes later, a high-pitched, whiny voice purred at him, "Nathan, let's play a game, shall we?"
And it didn't take long till he ran away with a roar like a bitch and locked himself in his room for the next 3 weeks straight. But ghosts don't need keys.