A/N: Finally complete! Thanks to everyone who reviewed =)
~The Torture Machine~
Barber and baker glared at each other for several minutes without blinking.
"We're on the air," the camera crew of Sweeney Todd's Torture Program reminded them.
"Mrs Lovett," Sweeney said eventually, "I did not cheat on you. We aren't even married."
"Actually love, you're wrong about the second part. If you didn't cheat, who is Amy?"
"I don't remember being married." His left eye twitched.
"That's coz you was sleepwalkin' when the priest performed the ceremony." She pointed to the ring on her finger. "I told you to buy it on sale, an' you did."
"What else did you do to me while I was asleep?"
"Well I can't quite recall. But by Mrs Mooney's cat-pies I would certainly never cheat on you with a woman called Amy, would I?"
"You didn't answer my question." Sweeney's skin drained itself of the very little colour it possessed. "Besides, I don't know who she is. I just know her name."
"Well," Mrs Lovett sniffed, still clearly hurt, "it don't matter anyway. You can do wot you like after the show. But right now we 'as some people ter torture. Security! Escort this woman out, if you please!"
Security did not move. They were too terrified of Sweeney's murderous expression to even consider moving.
"John, please!" The woman's whiny voice reminded Mrs Lovett of the beggar woman/Lucy.
"Ooh, I like that shiny ring," said Jack Sparrow distractedly, his eyes drawing in on Amy's enormous wedding ring. He stumbled down the stairs with his fingers flicking the air and his feet dancing everywhere. "Gold, ain't it? At last, somethin' good is comin' way, asides the rum, that is."
"I saw it also," Pirelli insisted, dragging himself in the torture chair toward the stairs. "Filthy pirate will only spend it on rum, give it to Pirelli!"
"John," pleaded the terrified Amy, staring up at Sweeney Todd and taking more than a few generous steps backward, "rescue me from this villainous men!"
"Do I look like John?" asked Sweeney half-seriously, taking out his razor and holding it up to the light.
The woman nodded. "If you take the Halloween mask off, you will."
"Oh that's it!" Mrs Lovett roared, getting the feather duster from under the stage. "Don't you know Mr T's a chiselled morbid god, so don't you dare be insultin' his appearance, you Lucy-doll re-make!" The baker was true to her word, and ran after the puzzled blonde woman with the said duster held high like a knight's sword, followed closely by Jack Sparrow.
In the process of running down the stairs, she toppled into Pirelli's chair, which caused the barber to topple chair-first down the stairs. He came to a thud on the floor by the audience. The fall, while not enough to sustain serious injury, was enough to break the chair. Pirelli leapt to his feet, and had to hop with the binds around his feet after the gold ring.
"Funny," said Jack as pirate and I-talian ran, or rather hopped, neck and neck, "I never dreamed I'd find meself competing for treasure with a giant curly moustached puppet. Seems like hoppin' gives you an advantage, ay?" Jack also took to hopping on one leg, and found that it did indeed increase running speed.
"Funny," said Sweeney Todd, as he turned his attention back to the actual torture at hand, "I never in my wildest dreams imagined the pleasure of torturing several people at once. And Beadle, Judge Turpin," he added with a malicious grin, "you are going to get it."
Harry Potter, Edward Cullen, Bella Swan, Mrs Lisa-Marie Mooney, Beadle Bamford and Judge Turpin all looked equally terrified.
Sweeney Todd had devised a special simultaneous torture device that combined the elegance of Victorian torture weaponry with the efficiency of modern torture.
"It's a torture machine!" Judge Turpin gasped, staring at what appeared to be a giant vending machine with various buttons that allowed the operator to select their method of torture, measure the length of the torture and select various strengths of intensity.
"I prefer to see at as a torture microwave," Sweeney said sadistically, "because by the time I am through with you, Judge Turpin, you will be cooked."
"Very humorous, barber, but I hardly think you will get awa –"
In the time that it took Judge Turpin to utter that sentence, he was dead.
Sweeney Todd had selected from the menu the option of "immurement". By immurement, Sweeney meant "death by having a giant wax skin melted over Judge Turpin's body until the man suffocated to death inside his own likeness."
"It's neat, quick, an' there's no blood neither," Mrs Lovett observed, coming up the set of stairs with the ring ripped from Amy's ring finger.
"Very," Sweeney said with a small satisfied smile, turning his attention to the other torture victims.
"You're just like Voldemort!" Harry Potter bellowed, tears springing from his eyes.
"Is that a vodka?" Mrs Lovett said with a confused look on her face.
"Never mind that," spat Pirelli, hopping back up the stairs with Sparrow in tow. "Give us the ring back, you tasteless pie-selling strumpet!"
"Mr Todd," wheedled the Beadle, "I'll give you me entire coke collection, an' the list of all me drug contacts, if you'll but consider sparin' me life. You won't regret it!"
"Silence." The barber pressed a few buttons on the machine, and after a fascinating period of ten minutes, in which the Beadle found himself being puffed up with a helium plug to a hippopotamus shape, the Judge's faithful servant exploded into a dozen tiny balloon pieces.
"Cor, wot a sight!" Mrs Lovett breathed, jumping away from the splatters of blood and half digested food.
"What happened to Amy?" Sweeney remembered, turning from the machine.
"I put her in quarantine," Mrs Lovett explained. "I checked 'er background and found 'er jeep parked in the carpark. She's got a lot of corn cobs stashed away in the boot, Mr T, an' I hardly think that's normal…bleedin' hell wot are they up to?"
The criminal couple turned to the row of torture victims, and saw that three of them were acting in an extremely peculiar manner.
"Bohemians!" seethed Bamford distastefully.
"Lord Voldemort worshippers!" yelled Harry.
"Gypsies," hissed Signor Pirelli.
"Land-lubbers," said Jack Sparrow with a painful wince.
It appeared Jacob, Bella and Edward were attempting to calm their invisible auras with a healing-meditation session and a cluster of daisy chains. All three held hands, daises draped around their heads and chests and wrists. Bella closed her eyes and whispered a low and meaningful chant that is too low and meaningful to be repeated here.
"They're ruining my torture program!" said Sweeney angrily.
Mrs Lovett agreed. "Give 'em the slit, Mr T, you know you wanna. Can't stand happy peasant farmer folk songs meself."
"That's impossible!" blurted Harry Potter. "Every one knows sparkling vampires and hair-straightened werewolves have rock hard skin and abdominal muscles that cannot be pierced by ordinary weaponry!"
"Oh dear," said Mrs Lovett, eyeing Edward and Jacob's smug expressions. "That is a problem."
"No it isn't," said Sweeney even more smugly, reaching up to pull a lever that was not immediately obvious on the torture machine unless you knew it inside out. It was in fact the lever that dropped a trapdoor beneath the chairs of all the remaining torture victims. When pulled down a second time, the lever released a special mechanism that instantly detonated barrels of gunpowder underneath the stage. "Problem solved," grinned Sweeney Todd.
"Yes, well, one of them dearie," said Mrs Lovett blank-faced. "Now you've set the premises afire, wot do you intend to do about that?"
"Nothing," said Sweeney assuredly, swinger his razors back into his vest pockets like guns to their holsters. "I was getting a trifle bored, my pet, to tell the truth."
The barber leapt down from the burning stage, and gave the baker a helping hand.
Jack Sparrow also leapt instinctively off the exploding stage, as he had dealt a lot with exploding and sinking ships.
Pirelli managed the jump because he too was used to being attacked by angry mobs demanding their money back from failed elixirs.
"Bored by torture," Mrs Lovett mused, the words sounding exactly like music to her ears. "I wonder wot Mr T will do without it?"
"I don't know," Sweeney said honestly, putting an arm round his partner's shoulder as they walked out of the burning studio that was once Sweeney Todd's Torture Program. "What would you like to do, my pet?"
"Well, I've always fancied openin' up a wax museum," she began, twirling the stolen ring around her finger. "By the sea, o' course."
* * *
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