Malfoy walk towards the bar, wondering why his friend called the place so exciting. It doesn't look like much. Sandwiched between a porno shop which was currently being raided and a vacant lot with a pentagram etched in sand, where some kind of pagan ritual involving drunk frat members and fallen cows was taking place under the watchful eyes of naked succubi, the bar looked pretty seedy. The front had a facade of styrofoam bricks, and one of the Ts was burned out on the neon sign.

Malfoy blinked, then check the address on the twisted piece of metal, which was apparently written there in blood. Green blood. He compared the name of the bar to the one written on the complementary throwing\decapitation knife. Yup, this was the place alright. The Eternity Club...

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The Eternity Club

By Shadow Crystal Mage

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. This is just a crazy little something I wrote back in my grade school days, when Crossover corner was still up and running. Surprisingly, the original material is still pretty good. Please enjoy.

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He walked nervously between the various tables, uneasily eyeing the patronage. They're all wearing a variety of clothes, from modern day shirts-jeans-and-black-trenchcoats to coats-and-breeches and various kinds of dresses. One of the women, you realize with a start, was wearing something that looked almost transparent, and constantly shifting through every color in the spectrum. the predominant color, however, was blue. Another one was wearing a tight white sailor-esque bodysuit with a dark collar and a nearly non-existent skirt. There was, for some reason, a huge key leaning on her table.

"You new here, buddy?"

Malfoy turned towards the voice. The bartender(?) was looking at him over the bar, wiping, you notice, a golden goblet.

"Uh, yeah. Someone told me to come here. He said it was a good place for-"

"A quiet drink? If you wanted that, you should have gone to Cheers across town. You just have to be able to stand the loudmouthed psychiatrist. That or the Chicago. Just pretend you don't notice the mercenaries meeting every night."

"Actually, he said this was the place to go for a little excitement."

Malfoy shrugs ruefully.

"Guess he was joking."

"Oh, this is the place for excitement alright, pal. As much as you want. And then some. You see that sucker over there?"

He was pointing at what looked like a sixty year-old, semi-naked heroin addict. The guy was mostly drooling into his drink and seemed to be talking to himself, alternating between whining and cackling. The only things you can make out are the words "my precious", "hobbits", "Baggins" and "Gollum". Malfoy nods slowly.

"That's Gollum. Or Smeagol, depending on who he's feeling like. Don't know much about it, but the gist is some guy named Bilbo stole a ring from him and he wants it back. Some guy named Frodo's in on it too. Ask him if you want."

"Uh, I think I'll pass." Malfoy said. "He doesn't look too sane."

The bartender chuckles. "Not many who come here are, kid."

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Gollum was in a bad mood(not that he was usually a ray of sunshine). Bilbo had stolen his Precious, then Frodo, then the Master had betrayed him(and Smeagol, not that he mattered). To top it off, just as he had finally gotten his precious back(after biting through Frodo's finger; that had been tasty), he fell into the STUPID volcano!

Glowering, he peered into his drink, staring morosely into the beer and spit mixture. He will get his precious back! He will! It was his birthday present after all...

Gollum quickly degenerated into incoherent ramblings that even HE didn't understand.

In the next table, Saruman was talking to Graendal. What a stroke of luck it had been to find she was a psychiatrist. "-And everything was going so well. Granted, I didn't have the Ring yet, but my Orcs were coming back with those Hobbits and it was only a matter of time before Frodo fell under the Rings spell. Simple, right?"

He took a big swig from his martini (shaken, not stirred). "The Plan to take over Ronan was just about finished. All we had to do was crush them at Helm's Deep. Simple, right?"

"Them those Ent's had to get involved, and everything went down the crapper. Isengard was a very good piece of real estate, then they had to come along and flood the place. It's going to take forever to clean up my basement. My porn collection was washed up entirely."

"That's horrible!"Graendal said, thinking that it was a good thing the-Ents?-had been able to get rid of the porn at least. That was the last of her Penthouse photos gone off the face of the Earth. "By the way, do you know what happened to the Ring?"

"That's what really bugs me! All that trouble and #$& Frodo still manages to melt the #$&& thing."

Saruman blinks as he finds that he is suddenly alone. "Why is my luck with women always like this? I didn't even get to do my 'A new power is rising' speech." Glumly, he tries to drown himself in ginger ale(he's a wuss).

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"It's no good trying to get any information from him." Graendal tells Demandred. "He says the Ring has been destroyed. He was too drunk for it not to be true."

Demandred slammed his fist on the table, causing the drinks to jump. "Moridin won't like this." he said, taking a swig from his Coke (he's a wuss too)."He was set on using that Ring to take over the

Wheel."

"Let's just pick him a ring at Tiffany's." Cyndane mutters, sipping her cherry cola (another wuss. The Forsaken are just a bunch of wusses). "By the time no notices he's not turning invisible, I'd have killed him and made myself Nae'blis."

Beside Cyndane, Moridin sweatdrops. "You said that out loud, Cyndane."

"So?" Cyndane gives him her homicidal-woman look.

Moridin gulps nervously and takes a big slug of his Butterbeer (need I say it? WUSS!).

In the next table, Sailor Pluto and Angel Salvia are exchanging notes on being on a mahou shojou team.

"Monsters. Worst thing I hate about this job. The monsters. If they're not ugly, reptilian drooling things, then they're cutesy-cutesy killing things." Sailor Pluto mutters, downing her glass of vodka and pouring herself another shot. There was already a sizable collection on the table. And under the table. And all over the floor around the two. And on, under and around the table they had vacated when the massive number of bottles forced them to move.

Angel Salvia sniffs, punctuating it with a swallow and slams her glass-luckily-on a vacant spot on the table. "What about the dress code? At least all you need to wear is a sei-fuku. Me, I have to put on a wedding dress, then a swimsuit with a few ruffles as an excuse for a skirt. And a thong, for crying out loud." Swallow, slam! "Doesn't help that fearless leader's a complete ditz. The other two aren't any help." Swallow. "They're too busy feeling each other up!" Slam! "Why is it that only the leader of these things is allowed to have a lasting relationship with a guy?"

Sailor Pluto waves a white-gloved hand. "Tell me about it. Uranus and Neptune got so horny they started shagging up with each other. They get so loud they make me horny, and I'm straight!"

Sailor Pluto suddenly realized that she was flat-out-on-her-back drunk, that she was horny as hell, that the person she was talking to was young, sexy, under the influence, horny, hardly wearing anything, and what she was wearing was easily removable.

Angel Salvia suddenly realized that she was flat-out-on-her-back drunk, that she was horny as hell, that the person she was talking to was young, sexy, under the influence, horny, hardly wearing anything, and what she was wearing was easily removable.

There was a loud collapsing-and-tinkling noise. The two women suddenly started to make out under a pile of vodka bottles.

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Malfoy stares at the two women who seem to be stripping each other under a pile of bottles before a cough suddenly pulls you away. His gaze snaps quickly somewhere else as the bartender chuckles knowingly. Trying to change the subject, he point towards a kid wearing bright orange. "What's he doing here? Isn't he a little too young to be drinking?"

The bartender doesn't look away from the two women as he answers your question. "Name's Uzumaki Naruto. He hangs out here every few nights. Sometimes this girly looking guy in a dress joins him and the two either end up drunk or killing each other."

Malfoy watches for a couple of minutes as the obviously soused Naruto seemed to be hold an argument with his belly button, catching the words 'stupid fox' being belched out every once in a while.

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Bakura slowly, deliberately poured himself a drink. "So, killed that brat of yours yet, Tommy?"

Voldemort glared at him as he put down his piňa colada. "The name's Voldemort! How many times do I have to keep telling you that? And for your information, no, I haven't killed him yet. I'm an artist! A proper kill takes time, planning, effort, cunning, a sense of drama–"

"You've been too lazy to try and kill a sixteen year old kid?" Bakura said incredulously, rolling his eyes. "MAN! At least I take a serious crack at pharaoh-idiot every so often."

"I HEARD THAT!" Atemu yelled from across the room. Bakura gave him the finger as Dartz snickered from the next table.

A moment later, Bakura and Voldemort were joined by a man in a dress. "Orochimaru," Voldemort said, nodding to his fellow snake lord.

Bakura raised an eyebrow as a waitress came over with his nearly raw steak. "Why aren't you bugging the fox kid?"

"He's talking to his belly button again," Orochimaru said, shuddering delicately as he daintily sipped from his Saratoga Cooler, his pinky sticking out. "I'd rather not be in the same table as a crazy person."

"Tell me about it," Voldemort and Bakura chorused.

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"Mistress, perhaps you've imbibed in enough alcohol?" Chachamaru said.

"OF COURSE NOT!" Evangeline yelled as she finished painting the last number on Chachamaru's chassis. The blonde vampire stepped back to admire her work. Perfect! Chachamaru now had the exact same paint job as Priss Asigiri's hardsuit. "I KNOW MY LIMIT!"

Chachamaru gave the robotic equivalent of a sigh and was glad she'd made sure to buy new cans of paint thinner.

"Wow!" Chacha Zero said in appreciation. "That's pretty big!"

Chucky snickered. "You wanna hold it? I'll let try it out."

"ALL RIGHT!" the little magical killer doll said. Taking the enormous knife from the psycho-killer-possessed evil doll, she brandished it around in the air. "HEY, URASHIMA, I WANNA SHOW YOU SOMETHING!"

"NOT AGAIN!" Keitaro yelled as he started running away from yet another nut job who wanted to cut him up. Honestly, there were tons of other immortals in the room, why did it always have to be him?

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Malfoy stepped back as the inn manager and the Ministra Magi puppet pass by. "Whoa. He was right, it is exciting around here!"

The Bartender nodded sagely. "Sure is. 'Course, this is an exclusive sort of plays, you know, kind of like a gay bar. We only let a certain kind of people hang around. You're not one now, but if you wanna stay, you could be."

Malfoy chuckles. "What, I gotta get a handstamp or something?"

The bartender smiled. "Something like that."

Malfoy spread his arms. "Sure, why not."

The bartender grinned, pulling a knife out from under the bar. "This'll only hurt a little bit," he said, before sticking it straight into the blond's heart.

The guy sitting on the nearest barstool gave your corpse a look of disgust. "Must it be so bloody for you Highlander Immortals?"

The immortal shrugged. "You're welcome to do it, Spike."

The blonde rolled his eyes. "I'm not hungry," he said, gesturing for another drink.

"Hey," a new arrival said, waving a casual greeting to Spike, who responds by toasting his glass. "You guys haven't seen someone come in saying someone told him this was a good place for a little excitement, did you?"

"Your friend's down there, Keeper," the bartender said, wiping a diamond shot glass.

Harry Potter, Keeper of the Dark Heart, looked down at the corpse at his feet and grinned. "Ah, he's here already," he said as he took a seat and ordered a vodka. He raised his glass. "To Draco Malfoy, who won't be getting up any time soon!"

"He's supposed to be turning into an immortal," the bartender said. Keeper manifests a sword of ice and cuts off Malfoy's head.

"To Draco Malfoy, who won't be getting up any time soon!" Keeper reiterates.

In a nearby table, Deathstroke shook his head. "Why must you send all the people you want to die here?"

Keeper grinned as he turned into a she in tight black pants, a spaghetti strap and a top hat. Someone yelled drunkenly about Death being in the room and ran out the door. There was the sound of someone getting hit by a car. "But it's so much fun!"