AN This is all StarWars-Freak and The Obsidian Angel's fault. : o )
Warnings: Nonsensities, lame insults
Things are going great, thought Stanton as he strolled through the streets of Nefandus, a slight bounce in his step as he surveyed his new kingdom. I mean, I have Serena, and peace, and a rather stable economy seeing as none of my new subjects need to eat. Things are pretty darn swell.
And it was true. Despite having almost no background in maintaining a country, let alone an entire netherworld, Stanton and Serena were doing surprisingly well at running Nefandus. The citizens seemed to be happy, and they were happy in their PG rated love, so everything was fit as a fiddle in Stanton's book.
Of course, it never occurred to Stanton that mayhaps a few of the Regulators and Followers left over from the defeat of the Atrox weren't exactly keen on having a Daughter of the Moon and a traitorous Prince of the Night rule their wonderful world of darkness.
It was one of these disgruntled Regulators that brought about the infamous Dark Side of Stanton, by doing something that was simply unforgivable in Stanton's book.
That's right, one day, one of the disgruntled Regulators talked smack.
It occurred while Stanton was doing his routine walk around the outskirts of Nefandus, it was his 'me' time, and he cherished it very much so. However, something made his foot freeze mid-step when his ever so sharp hearing picked up on a thread of conversation.
"That Stanton thinks he's so great. He's all 'uhhh, lookatme I'm Stanton. I'm so cool, I have a car,'" mimicked a rather grotesque looking Regulator in front of a few of his buddies.
Stanton scowled, eying the Regulator with danger in his eyes. No one insulted how cool he was or how he had a car! No one!
"And then he thinks he's so bad, being Immortal and all," snorted the same Regulator, his tone carrying over while his friends snickered, "It's like, uh, newsflash man, you're totally not!"
Stanton's nostrils flared. That was the last straw. This Regulator had to be put in his place, and pronto. Stanton strolled over, killer intent radiating from his person. The Regulator's buddies seemed to notice his presence, for they immediately shut up and backed away.
"And what's up with his hair? It looks stupid-" The Regulator fell silent as he felt Stanton's shadow tower over him.
"Excuse me?" Stanton growled in a tone that had made grown men (e.g. Lambert) personally wet themselves as he glared at the Regulator.
The Regulator's voice faltered, and he looked over to see one very unhappy ruler of Nefandus, "Uh…hey there Stanton…I uh…um…nice shirt?" He covered weakly, a tinge of fear and anxiety on his rotten features.
Stanton crossed his arms over his chest, drumming the fingers along the tops of them, "Oh really?"
The Regulators buddies eyed each other nervously, and a few bystanders paused what they were doing to witness a Regulator getting his ass handed to him by a pretty boy.
"Uh, yeah, it er, brings out your eyes," the Regulator pressed, kissing very powerful ass.
Stanton just continued to glare, secretly relishing in the feeling of inspiring terror.
However, the tables were quickly to turn. One of the smack talking Regulator's friends whispered none too loudly to another observer, "Man, Mortimer is such a pussy."
The Regulator, whose name in fact was Mortimer, felt all of his fear and insecurities melt away like the skin on his face when he discovered that he, the smack talker, had now become the smack talkee. He puffed up his chest, glaring at Stanton in return, not about to lose anymore face than he already had (literally and figuratively).
"Yeah, your shirt's brown, like the color of…of poo!"
Stanton gasped, the…the audacity of this man! Poo? Poo?! His eyes were sparkling baby blue thankyouverymuch!
The Prince of the Night frowned, someone needed a sound schooling, that was for sure, "Poo like your face!"
Mortimer self-consciously ran a hand over his mottled face, feeling very insulted indeed, "Takes one to know one!"
Stanton's jaw fell, "Says the man who looks like the end result of a horseshoeing gone terribly astray, am I right? Am I right?" He asked the crowd. The crowd, knowing that the man could kill them with a mere thought, eagerly nodded and gave props.
Mortimer stammered, not liking that he was losing ground to centuries old insults, "At least I'm not pussy-whipped!"
"Oh no you didn't," Stanton said lowly, "It is so on!"
"Ooo," crooned the crowd.
Serena sighed as she flipped through a black expenses notebook, tons of things had been charged to their account, all by Stanton. She groaned as she walked through the streets of Nefandus. She loved the man to bits, but he just didn't know how to budget to save his miraculously toned ass. It was a little hard to run an eternal netherworld without some fiscal responsibility after all.
"Oh, that Stanton," she muttered in good-natured exasperation as she read three hundred Stantons (that was the name of the new Nefandus currency) charged for hair care products. She really needed to have a talk with him about moderation.
As she was walking, she noticed that there was a rather large group of former Followers and Regulators gathered around something. Her curiosity peaked, Serena slowly went over to the source of the commotion. Absently, she tapped the shoulder of a Follower that was on the outskirts of the circle, a little boy who was standing on his tiptoes to see whatever was holding everyone's attention.
"What's going on?" Serena asked him.
The boy didn't even look at who had asked, "Stanton's taking on Mortimer in a trash talking battle!"
Serena's eyebrows rocketed straight up to her hairline. Stanton…well…he had his strong points. Trash talking wasn't anywhere near them. She strained her hearing, and sure enough, what she heard was incredibly lame.
"The only woman who would date you would be a besotted prostitute during the Spanish Inquisition! And even then it would only be as a form of torture!" She heard her true love cry triumphantly. Serena bashed her palm against her forehead.
"No you!" Retorted the Regulator.
The little boy Follower turned to one of his friends, "Burn!" He cried, and his friend nodded in agreement.
Serena groaned, she had to put an end to his. Stanton was lowering the morale of the people by down talking one of the citizens, which could lead to an insurgency.
That, and it was deeply embarrassing being associated with him at the moment.
Gingerly, she weaved through the crowd, until she came across Stanton and the Regulator he was…insulting.
"Stanton! What are you doing?" Serena said with a huff, fists poised at her sides.
Stanton looked over at her, "Hello pookie, I'm putting this fool in his place."
Mortimer snorted, "You are the one who will be put in your place!"
Stanton rolled his eyes, "That doesn't even make sense, thou-with-the-face-of-horse-droppings!"
"Oh no you didn't!" Mortimer reiterated.
"Oh yes, I did!"
Serena exhaled tiredly, "Stanton, please, for the good of Nefandus, stop it."
He froze a bit at that tone, but his resolve was still in place, "But he-"
His eyes widened. She was counting. "But-"
"He's talking smack-!"
"Two and a half," her tone was as dangerous as a sharpened knife.
Stanton lowered his head, falling silent. He didn't want to see what happened when she got to three, "Consider yourself lucky Fartimer!"
"It's Mortimer!" He corrected dumbly, "Not Fartimer!" He paused, "Haha, the Prince of the Night really is pussy-whipped!"
Stanton's eyes narrowed, and a heavy feeling of darkness surrounded the area. Several of the onlookers shivered and stared at each other warily, the standard 'Oh shi-!' expression engraved on their faces.
The former Prince of the Night took a few heavy steps forward, and the cocky Regulator was now looking decidedly less cocky.
"Your." Stanton said, words dripping with terror. Serena winced, looking at her new followers in pity. The Regulator shirked back a bit, a cold sweat beading down his forehead.
"Mother." He finished, and several gasps emitted from the crowd.
The Regulator toppled over, crippled by the sheer badassery and not at all lame retort from his respected leader. Stanton said nothing, merely tossed his hair back and strode off regally, one hand in his pocket and the other snapping nonchalantly like an extra in West Side Story. Mission accomplished.
Serena sighed, looking at all of the terror-stricken followers, "Let that be a lesson to you all." She said crossly, before trailing after her hubby who could dish the trash out better than the garbage man.
Several Followers, after recuperating from the severe verbal burnage, looked at each other and started to grumble about their new queen as soon as she was out of eyesight, discontent on their features.
"Hoochie mama," muttered one, and a few grunted in agreement.