A/N: This story is for fun. I am still unsure as to whether I can write crack stories, or even funny things in general, *shrugs* oh, well. I hope you all enjoy and review. :D
Ch.1: How Unfortunate…
"So here we are!" the Doctor said gesturing dramatically to the scene around him. "Rio De Janeiro, Brazil, 2012. During Carnival, like you wanted."
"Cool, let's take a look around then." Amy said, stepping out of the TARDIS, Rory following close behind.
"Wait a second," the Doctor said suspiciously, before picking up a copy of the local news paper written in Portuguese. "Look at this headline." He held the paper up so they could get a clear view of the language they didn't understand. It read:
Outro misterioso assassinato traz a contagem de corpos em milhares!
"Doctor," Amy said exsasperated, "We don't have the bleedin' Rossetta Stone in our heads, like you. So what's it about-lost puppies?"
The Timelord looked at her incredulously, "It most certainly isn't about puppies! It says, and I quote 'Another mysterious murder brings body count into thousands'." He paused, a disbelieving look on his face as he unfolded the bottom half of the paper to reveal the picture of the victim, spine ripped out after being gagged with his own intestines. "Thousands...You know, I think I would have remembered something like this happening. Or I would have at least heard about it, but I haven't! I think that this vacation will be post-poned until we discover what's causing this." He whispered the next part under his breath. "And how it is keeping the TARDIS from translating."
Meanwhile In The House of Hell, 777...
The endless stairs beneath his feet creaked and groaned in protest, even though he didn't weigh very much at all-he was a slim 115 lbs, which was actually horribly under weight for someone whose height was only 5' 9". (For people who prefer the metric system: 52.2 kg and 1 meter and 76 centimeters.)
He reached a landing that led into one of his many torture chambers, this one was equipped with some of his favorite devices-most of which he made himself. Somebody was currently unfortunate enough to be hooked up to his personal favorite, the peeler. This machine was only reserved for the very worst of the people Johnny choose to 'enlighten' while he slowy and meticulously killed them. (Warning: rough language ahead.)
"Hey you!" he shouted. "What the hell is with the chains on my hands and feet? You planning on screwing me you sick homo-spic!"
Nny just smiled darkly tilting his head forward having the shadows conceal the murderous glint in his eyes, before speaking in a dangerously calm voice "What a great catch, a racist, hick tourist that nobody is going to miss. I better put the machine on slow." His gloved hand reached over to the lever in the wall pulling the lever down and leaving it in place after the first click.
This setting was labeled, 'Fuck them, they deserve to suffer.' The next setting was 'For entertainment purposes only.' Follwed by 'Get it over with already!' The last, and fastest setting was labeled 'For the least douchy.'
Nny pulled up a chair to watch, getting out some popcorn and a cherry doom Brain-Freezie. Slowly the machines rusty claws reached forward until they detected flesh, they quickly pressed the sharped hooks into his skin. The man gritted his teeth refusing to scream, that is until the hooks began to pull down. Ever so slowy they pulled the flesh away from his muscles. Soon his legs and arms had been skinned and resembled something like clothing that had been pulled and buched together. Swiftly the machine let go and felt it's way to base of every limb, and all at once they yanked the bunches free from the rest of the body, with a sickeningly wet ripping noise and one final scream. All the metal claws that had been holding him up and in place suddenly let go the man fell five feet-upside-down, did I mention-onto the cold concrete floor, cracking his skull and causing massive hemorrhaging, that would kill him in the next few minutes, while he was blissfully unconscious.
Johnny walked forward to take care of the task at hand, collecting the fleshy bunches, burning off the hair, then stretching and drying it into human-leather so he could sell it to some unsuspecting manufacturers. There was also the matter of getting the body up the stairs and dumping it somewhere, he was happy that he remembered to lay out the tarp this time. As he hauled it up the stairs he wished that Devi was home to help him.
Later That Week…
The Doctor walked up to the latest crime scene using his psychic paper to get past the police. When he reached the body he winced. One of the real investigators said to him in Portuguese, that the cause has been unofficially that he was skinned alive then smashed over the head. As much as he detested the thought of getting any closer to this mess, he crouched down, and as he did he caught a whiff of something all too horribly spicy smelling.
"No it can't be." He whispered to himself in English. "The Waste-Locks went extinct long ago…" but he couldn't deny it, there was a waste-lock roaming around, it was going to infect other humans if it hasn't already. He absolutely could NOT involve Amy or Rory in this; it was too dangerous, maybe even too dangerous for him.
He headed back to the TARDIS, being careful to not bump into anyone and behaving excessively polite, not wanting to upset anyone who could be a Waste-Lock.
Back at the TARDIS
"Ugh…what's taking him so long?" Amy was bored out of her skull. Rory could only shrug in response. "Well, I'm going to go find him." She said as she stood up.
"But, wait! Amy, don't you think it would be dangerous to go out there with a serial killer on the loose…?"
She just kept walking towards the door, and as her hand touched the handle, her phone rang. It was the Doctor.
"Pond, don't you dare leave that TARDIS, this is more dangerous then anything we've come into contact with before-oops, sorry, my fault." He said from the other end as he bumped into someone.
"Doctor this couldn't possibly be more dangerous then a Dalek, how bad could it possibly be?"
The Doctor sighed; he was going to have to tell her, to keep her from leaving the safety of the TARDIS. "Amy, listen very carefully, we are dealing with a Waste-Lock, and they are a type of human that had been targeted by a parasite of the mind known as Sickness. This 'Sickness' feeds on creativity, and when there is none left it feeds on the sanity of its host. This causes them to kill people usually."
"That doesn't sound so bad, well, for me at least."
"Hold on a minute, I'm not done! But there is another thing that the Sickness can do, as soon as the host as kills their first victim it uses the leftover energy from that person's life, and it uses it to manipulate everything around it. For instance, let's say that the host is mortally wounded; the parasite would use the energy to cause immediate healing, keeping them from dying. The more people that the host kills the stronger the parasite gets, the one we're dealing with has killed several thousand people, it only takes fifty to enable the parasite to give the host a full-body reconstruction if necessary. Another thing that this disease can manipulate is the environment. The Sickness can keep anybody from even trying to catch the host, and if somehow, there is somebody out there actually trying, they'll either become a target, or always come up with dead ends, no leads what-so-ever."
"So what you are saying is that there is a person with a brain-leech out there killing people and they can't get caught or killed?"
"Exactly, and not only that, they're contagious as well."
"Well, seeing as how powerful this one is, just by being known to the host as a person with great intelligence, or high ambition…maybe even just because they are very willing to become violent, these are all things that can cause the Sickness to target you. This wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that this disease is incurable." He paused allowing how serious this all was to sink in. "So if you walk out that door, you can't come back inside until you are tested, and if it is positive…"
"What would happen if it is positive Doctor?" she said a bit worried about his sudden stop.
"Then…I-I, couldn't allow you to…you would have to die." He hung up just then because he had reached the TARDIS, when he noticed something troubling.
A girl with purple hair and a paintbrush had set up a canvas and easel and it looked like she was prepared to paint the TARDIS. The problem, and what was so troubling was the fact that every time she tried to do a bit of a beginning sketch, it would come out crude and awful. "Alright you little monster," she said to herself believing that no one was listening, "You are going to let me paint, or I wont get any new victims for a week." She began to sketch again, this time it came out beautifully.
The next part he wished he didn't hear, he wished that he would be anywhere but there, that next whisper was, "Thank you, Sickness."
A/N: Oh, the suspense! It might kill you! D: Unless you review, then I'll update faster! :D