A collab with AeleusIenzo on dA thanks to our newfound obsession with Johnny. (She wrote most of it, I just thought of a plot and some random scenes... .u.) AeIe: This story is really OOC and lame and...blah, and I suck at scenes that require a lot of detail, and I've never cut anyone open before and-
Okay, shut up now.
AeIe: This story is really OOC and lame and...blah, and I suck at scenes that require a lot of detail, and I've never cut anyone open before and-
AeIe: Yes sir. o3o
Squee laid against Jonny's bed, his legs spread, enticingly in Johnny's line of sight. The boy had a comic book close to his face, concentrating on it. In some way, he'd become the spitting image of Johnny himself, minus the homicidal maniac bit. There were few differences, but differences in the least. Like, for instane, Squee had become rather resign over the years, calm and quiet, unmoved by even the most terrifying aspect, but that's because Johnny was always there to protect him, always trailing behind, hiding, but still watching.
Squee couldn't even count the number of people Johnny had killed for him. He didn't want the older male to kill them, and he'd told him that time and time again, but Johnny just couldn't resist torture of a bully or teacher who decided to give Squee a bad grade. Bad grades for Squee meant physical abuse from his parents. Squee didn't mind, and finally when Johnny proposed a deal, he'd get to torture Squee's awful parents, and in return he wouldn't kill everyone who gave the boy a hard time.
Of course, Squee refused. Johnny never understood how Squee could even like, let alone love, his parents who were so downright despicible, scummy, horrible! When Johnny told him this, Squee countered with, 'I like you, don't I?' Johnny was appalled, he had half a mind to kill the ten year old right then and there, after maybe playing with him a bit, but watching him, sad and lonely just like he was and is. These remarks made by Squee were frequent, but Johnny managed to try and shrug them off. Squee was his only friend in this world.
Johnny watched Squee and suddenly something hit him. "How'd you get into my house, anyway? You just showed up all of a sudden," he murmured.
Squee looked up, "Window."
"They're all boarded up, you can't," Johnny pointed out.
Squee looked up briefly, before looking back at his comic. "Not very well. I squeezed through one of the gaps."
Johnny walked over, and dug his thumbs into Squee's ribcage, pressing down hard until the boy made a small noise of discontent and squirmed. Johnny smirked sadistically.
"Your parents aren't feeding you again? Don't think I'm gonna give you any food, fuckin' stray cat," Johnny said, standing up again.
"Too late, I made some of that pasta that's been sitting in there," Squee said nonchalantly.
"YOU ATE MY PASTA!?" Jonny screamed, widening his stance as he pulled a gun from his waist line, holding it out. He grabbed Squee by the collar and pulled him up, shoving the gun into his temple. "I TOLD YOU I LIKE PASTA!"
Squee looked slightly to the side, still barely flinching at the maniac's sudden movements. "You made me lose my page," he sighed, putting his hands on Johnny's wrists to pry them away, before picking up his comic. "Damnit, Nny..."
Johnny put the gun down and walked over, taking the comic away to look it over, "What comic is this?" he blinked. "None I've ever seen before."
Squee snatched it back, glaring slightly. "It's Invader Zim by Jhonen Vasquez."
Johnny peeked over his shoulders, "He has some stupid characters," he noticed. "What is that thing? A dog?" Squee elbowed him lightly, growling ever so slightly.
"It's a robot, Nny. It's disgused as a dog."
"Stupiiddd," Johnny sighed, taking the comic and throwing it on the other side of the room. "By the bye, I've been thinking lately-"
"Don't hurt yourself, Nny."
Johnny pretended not to hear that. "I've been thinking. And I haven't quite been able to remember what a human feels like...when they're not freezing with fear of their imminent death."
"You touch me all the time," Squee pointed out.
"I mean-" Johnny hissed, "-I haven't...touched someone, lingeringly, tenderly, friendly," he elaborated, grabbing Squee's wrist. "I've forgotten the feeling...I'm bored of killing people, Squee. BUT I can't stop. No. I can't stop. If I want to live, I can't."
"Nny, you're kind of scaring me," Squee said, attempting to pull his wrist away from Johnny's grasp. Johnny reacted by pulling Squee's arm and pushing him against the wall, holding him in place.
"Move too much and that arm will break," Johnny whispered to him. "Come on and cooperate Squee. How old are you now, anyway?"
"Thirteen," Squee murmured.
"Eighteen? Perfect." Johnny picked the small, light boy up and threw him over his shoulder, beginning to carry him down to the basement, and then to the underground room, and further, and further, and further until the screams of Johnny's present victims could be heard.
"Oh look, some people are still alive, eh Squee? We have an audience," Johnny laughed. "Oh! Raise your hand if you're still alive!" He looked around, and frowned, seeing that some of the people, hanging from the walls by a straightjacket and chains, were still alive, yet not answering. He picked up a knife and threw it at a man, hitting him dead in the forehead. The man screamed, and then slumped forward.
"They're in straight jackets, they can't raise their hands." Squee murmured.
"Ah...I knew that," Johnny trailed off, looking to the side as he slammed Squee against the ground and tied on a straight jacket that was much too large for the boy who was bordering anorexia. Grabbing some chains attached to the ground, Johnny clipped them to the boy's vest. "Nice and comfy, Squee?" Johnny nearly purred, consoled by the screams and frantic cries of his other victims.
"It's too loose, Nny."
"It's too loose, if you want to do it right, tighten the straps," Squee instructed.
Johnny shook his head, "You're really strange, aren't ya? You used to be sooo scared of me, sneakin' in your window and whatnot, now you don't give a fuck if I shove a gun down your throat, eh?"
"I don't," Squee said softly, ignoring the yells of pure agony coming from the other occupants of he room. Some yelling 'Please help us!' and others yelling 'This kid is sick!' And so on and so on.
"Well, Squee, I can't say I won't miss you," Johnny chuckled, reaching down to ruffle the teen's hair like he so often did.
Squee nodded in understanding.
"Well...will you miss me my little Squeezy?" Johnny asked, wondering slightly, just slightly what the answer would be.
"Do you want me to miss you?" Squee asked curiously.
"Hmm...I suppose not, but-"
"Then I won't miss you, Nny."
This seemed to strike Johnny particularly hard, as he froze, shaking his head in disbelief. He shrank back slightly growling as he reached into his black bag of tools. He took out a screwdriver, expertly twirling it in his fingers.
"How, Squee, do you think a screwdriver to the trechea feels?" Johnny asked, running the metal along his index finger.
"Rather unpleasant, I'm guessing," Squee replied.
"STOP IT!" Johnny screamed. "STOP IT ALREADY! STOP!"
"What's wrong, Johnny?" Squee asked quietly.
Johnny clutched his hair, pulling at it in frustration. "Like him! You're too much like him, stop it!" he yelled.
"Johnny I'm only doing what you told me to-"
Before Squee could finish he was effectively knocked out by Johnny hitting him over the back of the head with a golfclub, careful not to kill him. Not yet.
Johnny disenfected a knife as he listened to the many comments of his victims. There was a large amount of 'LET ME GO!' and an even larger amount of 'Let him go.' Many people cried about Squee was only a child, and of how much of a monster Johnny was. This only made him chuckle.
"Yes yes, fine people! But perhaps that was his main fault. As a child, no, teenager, he's arrogant, ignorant, he doesn't. Take. My. Feeling. Into GODDAMN CONSIDERATION!" he yelled, slicing the knife swiftly through the air. He paused for a moment, trying to think of what exactly he'd just said to make the audience fall silent. He nodded and chuckled, opening his mouth to speak again before a voice sliced through the air like a speeding bullet, piercing him in the heart.
Johnny looked up, targeting the man who'd yelled such a...such a...mean thing! For lack of a better, more intelligent comeback. He clenched the screwdriver, throwing it into the man's head with expected accuracy.
"Would anyone else...like to make a comment?" Johnny drawled out in a low growl, slamming his hand onto a scalpel, picking it up.
Johnny easily did the same to whomever made such a...a...comment...and boy was he running low on things to say. He rubbed his head and dropped to his knees, crawling on top of Squee and picking up another scalpel.
"So, Squeegee, let's take a look in the little heart of yours," Johnny murmured, cutting open his shirt. "Hmm...what's going on in heerreee?" Johnny trailed the scalpel down Squee's chest, using his fingers to open up the incision. He stared down at the passed out boy who was in too deep of a sleep to realize the pain. The man's gaze fell down to the open chest. He'd done it. He actually had opened up Squee's chest. He watched the beating chambers of the boy's heart, and suddenly he felt like vomiting. Why? This wasn't something he wasn't used to.
Johnny rubbed is temples. A brain freezie would be nice about now. He sighed softly, and reached into his bag-o-things, and pulled out a needle and thread. He'd never even attempted something like this, so they would probably be some very crude stitches, but he didn't want Squee to die. Not yet. And, perhaps, not ever.
Squee groaned as he tried to sit up, whimpering as he put a hand on his stomach. He laid back, feeling a mess. His head was throbbing from the blood that had now crusted over on the back of his neck. Did Nny really have to hit him with a golf club? He laid back, shaking from the pain in his chest and stomach. It didn't feel like the maniac had tampered with anything vital, because he was still very much alive.
"N-Nny..." Squee whimpered, choking out a sob as the true crippling pain revealed itself and became more apparent. Squee held out his arms, his chest heaving, only stalling partially when he swallowed.
Johnny's eyes narrowed on Squee, then softened. He took the small teen's arms and cradled him, trying not to agitate the wounds, which really confused him further, because he'd never taken care of another human being in such a gentle way...not that he could
remember, at least.
"It's okay...Nny has you..." Johnny whispered.
You may now proceed to kill me. Next chapter? Maybe. MAYBE.