The Black Priest Shaft gave a low bow before Dracula's
fluorescent orange inflatable throne. "Here, Brother Drac, the
ceremonial bong." He offered the device, which was lifted from
Shaft's hands, then thrown to the ground where it landed with a thud
on the shag carpeting. "Wha?" Shaft's face was incredulous.
"You know, Shaft, I'm beginning to think that the 'smoking of
the ceremonial weed' is not an improvement on the traditional me-
worshipping schtick," Dracula said. "Especially as it seems to only
happen when I ask you to do something you don't want to do." He
shifted noisily, which is about the only way one can on inflatable
furniture.
The Black Priest's eyes darted to the side. "What are you
saying, O Undead of Undeads?"
"I'm saying that I have not forgotten how you have failed me.
Now, I believe that when I was raised from the deader side of undead,
I asked for one thing, and one thing only."
"Blood?"
"No. Well, yes. One -other- thing. You were supposed to
destroy the child Yoshitaka Amano, so I wouldn't have to be pretty
anymore. But when I woke up this evening, the delicate bone
structure, undefined musculature, milky white skin and long flowing
hair was still there."
"Many women feel that a slender, almost effeminate man is very
attractive," the black man mildly offered.
"Well, come on, of course I'm irresistible. But that is
besides the point. Why am I not masculine yet? Why is Amano still
alive?"
Shaft scratched the back of his head. "Minor oversight,
Brother Drac. I'll take care of it."
"That you will, Black Priest. Soon. Or I will take care of
-you-." He squeak/shifted again, looking towards the door to the
Disco Infernal. "Now, send in my hoes."
The Black Priest Shaft turned and sauntered out of the room.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Shaft turned back, a slightly disdainful look on his face.
"I'm going to go get laid."
"Oh."
* * *
Against their better judgement, Improfanfic presents:
Castlevania 1970: Disco of Evil
Chapter 17: There's Something About Mary, or, Chicks Dig Leather
The one who had the lovely idea: Gaijin Dan Mastriani
The one who mucked it up: Erin Ellis
* * *
The oiled coil of leather sat at the ready, a fingertip's
length away from Bob's hand. He gave in to the indulgence; he
reached for the whip, loving the way the cool texture felt against
the skin of his hand, relishing the weight of its length as he shook
it out, letting it fall to the ground. He knew the whip. He -was-
the whip. And all else would fall before--
"Young Belmont," Alucard announced, barging through the door
and immediately tilting his head backwards to avoid the whip that
cracked centimeters from his nose. He quirked an eyebrow. "Feeling
high-strung, Robert?"
"Geez, what do you think you're doing bursting in like that?"
Bob yelled, flushed with embarrassment. "You messed up my Zen."
"Save your anger for those who actually deserve it, Robert.
This day, I have received a clue as to where our enemies, the forces
of evil--"
"And *handjive* funk," Bob added.
Alucard narrowed his eyes at the interruption. "Ahem. I have
received information as to where they are located, sent by messenger
from the Master Librarian for a rather overly high fee, being as we
already knew the location. When I mentioned this to said messenger,
he said he could do nothing, and the bill would stand at $2500.
After convincing him otherwise with the use of my mediation skills
and blade, I negotiated a new and more reasonable price, and received
a free pizza. Thusly, we may continue our quest from where it was
interrupted the previous evening because of the urging of the younger
and possibly less dedicated members of our party, leading us to find
lodging in this rather shabby though inexpensive motel," the
dhampiric bishounen expostulated, saving the narrator a great deal of
trouble.
"Hey, it was really late. We were tired," Bob griped.
"Nevertheless, it being a new day and everyone having had time
to attend to needs of the flesh -- sleep, food, and sanitary acts, as
it were -- there are no further impediments to our journey."
"All right... where's Plaz?"
"Belnades is..." Alucard blinked. "Most definitely in her
room, as she insisted she have one separately, despite t--"
"Okay, okay, I'll go get he--" Bob checked his watch, "er,
him."
"No problem," Plaz said, bounding into the room and plopping
onto the bed. "What's going on today? I heard there was pizza."
"Pizza?" Bob's eyes lit up, grabbing the box from where it had
sat unnoticed in Alucard's grip. "Groovy. I hope it's pepperoni."
Not quite daunted by how his two partners? sidekicks? younger
companions to draw more readership from the 12-18 age bracket? had
more interest in the pizza than the quest, Alucard wrested a slice
from Bob and Plaz, and continued. "Tonight *munch munch* we
return..." he left a dramatic pause, "...to the Church of
Scientology."
Plaz's brow furrowed. "Why can't we just go now?" he said over
a mouthful of pizza.
"Because," Alucard explained patiently, "evil cannot be
defeated in the mid-day."
* * *
Shaft was in a pickle. Well, technically, he was supposed to
be in the middle of getting laid, which most people don't find
unpleasant. However, he was so caught up in his thinking... how to
get rid of Amano? And how to destroy Alucard? Damn, what was it
with people whose names started with 'A' that made so much trouble?
"Shaft, baby... what's wrong?" the girl next to him asked. Her
name didn't start with 'A', it started with Mary.
"You wouldn't understand," the man grunted, then rolled over.
"Oh, no, Shaft, you did -not- just roll over. You did -not-
just disrespect me like that," Mary said.
"I have thinking to do."
"Please, you couldn't think your way out of a cardboard box.
I've seen those undead hoodlums you've been hanging around with, its
a wonder you haven't been thrown into jail by now.
"Wha?" Shaft said for the second time that day.
"You -do- realize how pathetic it is that you haven't gotten
rid of that Animal kid, don't you?"
"Amano," he corrected. "And Konami's got security pretty tight
around that cat. I'm not thinking that the caliber of minions I have
can handle that."
Mary sighed, turning onto her back. "Well, that's your first
problem, you shou--" She paused, slapping herself lightly on the
cheek. "What am I telling you for? I'll do the damned thing
myself."
"Wha?" Shaft said, not intending to run a phrase into the
ground, but finding himself rather at a loss for words. He quickly
recovered, turning to face her. "What's this mess you're talking,
woman? Be quiet before I smack some sense into you."
She snorted. "Watch and learn. In one week, not only will the
drawing kid be taken care of, I'll have Dracula's bastard son eating
out of my hand, or my name's not Proud Mary." She settled into the
pillows, her smile changing from wicked anticipation to wickedly
seducing. "Now, are you going to lay me, or what?"
Shaft sighed. He looked at the raven-haired beauty stretched
out like a dish for him. She did tend to cause trouble for him.
Mary was headstrong. Mary was evil. Mary was rather unsympathetic
to Shaft's potential demise at Dracula's hands. But Mary was a very
good lay. That covered many flaws. "Your name should start with
'A', he murmured. At her blank look, he blinked a couple times, then
grinned. "Come on."
Hot and heavy love-making ensued.
It must be said that the Black Priest Shaft went home later
that afternoon not only satisfied in his manhood, but also without
any clue that Proud Mary had been completely serious in her claim.
Mary went home that afternoon and began making plans.
* * *
Five minutes after sunset exactly, Bob and Plaz found
themselves standing behind Alucard, who stood purposefully underneath
the wholly unimpressive arch of the young Church of Scientology.
Unlike the last time they had arrived at the spot, John Travolta did
not appear. In fact, nothing happened at all. After a couple
minutes of nothing happening, Alucard searched through his items
inventory, and retrieved a key. He held it before him dramatically,
it glinting in the low light of the streetlamps.
"With this key," he announced, sounding pleased with himself.
"AHEM," he clapped his hands on the shoulders of Bob and Plaz. The
two youths snapped to attention. "As I was saying, with this key, we
may enter the Church of Scientology, sanctuary of evil minions of my
father, Dracula, who would enslave the world to a life of dark
nastiness, culminating in a death due to considerable loss of blood.
Yet, due to my (and to a lesser extent, your) efforts, we have
received the key to this sanctum of wrongdoing, this den of iniquity,
this homeplace of sin so grievous, that without our entrance all
mankind could be har--"
"Come on, Alucard," Plaz called from the door. "It's unlocked.
Bob's already inside."
A little put out but still with great drama, Alucard turned and
strode into the doorway. We could say that Alucard subsequently
opened the door and rubbed his aching nose, but the you might groan
especially hard and injure yourself. Also, Alucard wouldn't
appreciate me telling his business.
Anyhow, Alucard strode into the hall, through the darkened room
of the Church of Scientology. Like its beckoning arch, the inside of
the Church was also unimpressive; once inside the doorway there were
a couple rows of folding chairs facing a table and portable projector
screen. Behind this was a door leading to a small and sparsely
decorated office. This was where Bob and Plaz stood, flanking the
small desk. On the desk was a note. On the note were the words
'Alucard & Friends' in neat cursive script.
" Dear Good Guys -- "
" We waited, but you never showed up. "
" It's not like we don't have other things "
" to do than fight you. Have some "
" courtesy, please. Anyway, we've stepped "
" out for a bit, so maybe go on home and "
" try back a little later. "
" XOXO, "
" John & L. Ron "
" "
" Al: Leave message here: ________________ "
" _________________________________ thanx! "
"Holy shit," Plaz exclaimed, reaching for the letter. "Can...
can I have that?"
"Why?"
"It's got John Travolta's autograph... God, he's hot."
Bob looked at Alucard looked at Bob. "I'm not so sure what one
can do with an autograph of John Travolta of the Awakening of the
Funk and Evil Intent, but if that's what floats your boat..." He
tentatively handed the note to Plaz, who folded it up and placed it
in her shirt. Bob withheld a shudder.
Alucard's face was troubled. "Well, Robert, Belnades," ...he
didn't continue.
"You don't know what to do now, do you," Bob stated.
Plaz smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Speaking of
Travolta, I've got an idea as to how to spend the evening..."
* * *
The Disco Infernal was a popular place, with many locations,
the most popular of which was located in the center of New York
City's Times Square. Even though it was so popular, it was rather
small -- no bigger than a mid-sized ranch. Perhaps this was -why- it
was so popular.
Either way, there were a limited amount of people who could
enter to worship at the altar of the god of funk and *handjive* evil
at one time. The department of public safety would allow no more
than 134 people in the building, and despite the strongest efforts of
the bouncer staff, really no more than 200 or so people could fit
without things becoming really nasty. It was no place for a
respectable undead to spend time in, Death felt. At its best, The
Disco Infernal was hot, sweaty, strobing lights and thumping bass,
drinks and smoke and beautiful girls and mod guys and dancing all
night long waking up in somebody else's bed whose name you don't know
with holes in your neck.
Here was not the Disco Infernal.
Here was Death's Special Place.
Here was calm, cool breeze, lapping water, muted light, smooth
jazz playing in the background. Hecubus running pell-mell towards
him.
"Hey, Death~!" Hecubus called.
If Death had had eyebrows, they would have turned up, and if
he'd had lips, they would have turned down, making a quite pathetic
and defeated face. As it was, Death had no skin, and so could not
really make much of a physical difference when Hecubus skidded to a
stop before him.
"Death, my man!" Hecubus gave the ghoul a friendly punch in
the humerus.
Death emitted something not unlike a glare from the hollow
sockets of his skull. "Why. Are. You. Here."
"Shaft called for you. He wants you to get back to the Disco
Infernal and do some stuff for him."
The specter paused. "For him."
"Yeah," Hecubus nodded.
"Not for Dracula."
"Yeah."
"You came -here-, to -my- Special Place, to tell -me- that I'm
supposed to return to the place I don't like to be a lackey for some
upstart mortal black pimp?!"
"No," Hecubus corrected. "Shaft isn't a black pimp, he's a
black priest."
"SILENCE!" Death blazed with righteous indignation. My
rightful place as Dracula's right-hand man has been subjugated by
someone who treats me like some sort of gutter trash, and no one, not
you, not Dracula himself, who I've served for hundreds of years, has
stood up for me. And you know, that's about all I can take. I've
lived for a long time, and I'll live for a lot longer, but I won't
live like this."
By this point, Hecubus was uncomfortably wringing his hands.
"Death, but what about--"
"'Death' nothing. Never ask anything from me again. I quit!"
Hecubus, having had little success at convincing Death to
return to the Disco Infernal by standing with his mouth hanging open,
tried closing it, then opening it again. "Um," he orated.
"Take your 'um' and tell Shaft to go find some other undead
flunky. Now, get out of here before I send you to the afterlife."
Hecubus decided to get out of there.
* * *
Skin-tight black leather. The huge collar was unbuttoned to
somewhere far beneath fine pecs and impossibly defined abs. The
leather continued downward, past slender muscled thighs to where it
flared at the calves. A full bellbottom jumpsuit.
"Geez, Alucard, you look like a BeeGee gone bad," Bob had
commented.
Plaz had just laughed. "Guess you're ready for the disco, if
you still have circulation in your legs."
Because, of course, Plaz's idea to spend the evening that
hadn't been spent going through Travolta's dungeon had been to spend
it at the local disco. A nice black lady had told her about the
local scene, and even recommended a place. Bob hadn't disagreed with
the idea, so Alucard had found himself shopping for the nightlife.
Despite the others' complaints, the ladies at the Disco
Infernal seemed to not find any quarrel with his outfit. After
entering the discotheque with Bob and Plaz, he had almost immediately
been mobbed with girls trying to chat him up, dance, or just gawk at
him. And he would never tell anyone, but he could swear that at
least three people had grabbed his ass. However, Alucard was not in
need of the ego boost, and in fact found the extra attention wearing
thin. And then he had seen -her-. And being at the disco had
started to seem a lot more interesting.
Alucard looked blearily at the groove bunny before him. Her
luscious chocolate skin, her neat, fuzzy afro, her funky, low-cut
halter top. "Baby, you're like liquid motion," he slurred, not quite
sure what the phrase meant as it passed his lips.
"Aren't I?" she smiled, any possible edge to her voice
unnoticed by the impossibly grinning bishounen. There was something
about this girl... Maxine.. Minnie.. Mary. Maybe it was the pulsing
beat, the smoky air, the martinis she kept pressing into his hand.
But for some reason, she made him hang loose, and dancing with her
made anything else he had to do feel unimportant. He was feeling...
groovy.
"Mary..." Alucard began, grasping at a sense of purpose.
"I can barely hear you," Mary said, grasping at his chest. She
dragged him to a dark, secluded corner (where 'secluded' was defined
as lots of couples necking). "This is more like it. Why don't you
finish your drink and then we can talk about your vampire troubles?"
"Vampire troubles?" Alucard repeated stupidly. There was
something wrong with this conversation. He didn't usually talk about
vampires with girls he met in discos. He didn't think he did. He
drained his martini. What was he talking about again? "I'm Alucard,
cursed half-breed son of Dracula," he commented.
"I know," she said, pressing herself against him. "That's why
I've lured you here. Next, I'll take your body and use it against
your allies, Yoshitaka Amano, and the Black Priest Shaft. It was all
so easy." She broke into a full bitch-laugh(TM), hand cocked beside
her mouth. Catching herself, she turned back to Alucard. "Anyway.
Come on."
Hot and heavy lovemaking ensued.
Or at least, it would have, had Alucard's body not chosen that
moment to reject the alcohol it had been plied with. Especially if
it hadn't rejected it all over Mary.
* * *
Plaz found Alucard when he turned up under her foot. "Bob!"
she called.
The boy rushed over. "What happened? Where is he?"
She pointed to the ground. The half-vampire was lying face
down in the grass on the side of the highway. She turned him over,
and with some shaking and light to rather heavy slapping on the
cheeks, he came to. "Alucard!"
"Alucard!"
"Uhhgh," Alucard replied.
"Alucard, what happened? We lost track of you at the disco,
and then you were gone for a whole day!"
"We tried to go back to the Church of Scientology, but you have
the key in your pocket.. or somewhere."
"When I whipped the door, it didn't open, it attacked us. It
was this wonderful, exciting fight! And when it was over, I got a
magical drop!" Bob grinned, but in a moment, his pride deflated like
a popped balloon. "What is a 'magical drop' supposed to do?"
"What happened to your clothes?" Alucard's once snappy black
leather jumpsuit now sported several rips and tears, many of
considerable size. This rather fanservice-esque turn of events led
to a goodly amount of pale, corded muscle being shown. Plaz wiped a
rivulet of drool from her chin.
"Alucard, say something!"
The cursed half-breed son of Dracula brought his weary, dirty,
but still pretty head up and towards the direction of Bob and Plaz.
"Mary," he began. "Where's Mary? I need her..."
Bob frowned; Plaz scowled. "Come on, Alucard, what happened?"
"I lost my cookies at the disco," he trailed, then passed out
again.
* * *
Dracula stood enraged, his thrown goblet of Colt 45 just
missing the Black Priest Shaft's head. "My son was -where-? Death
said -what-?!"
** ** **
Author's Notes:
If it seems like I procrastinated on this part, it's only
because I did. But just think, if I had written less, then it would
have been done sooner. So, should you -really- blame my lofty
intentions? Or just the Dance Dance Revolution that I played instead
of writing over Thanksgiving... -_-
Anyway, I hope somebody enjoys the twists I tried to put into
this episode. I mean, just think! What will Death do with his early
retirement? What happened to Alucard during his day-long tryst with
Proud Mary? Will Yoshitaka Amano lose a fight to Akira Toriyama?
What is John Travolta doing right now? Why did Plaz only get about
five lines in this whole chapter? Will Erin -ever- stop wasting your
bandwidth? . . .
Who knows. ee970@hotmail.com, if you want to ask me.
Stuff what Helped get this Done (in no particular order):
Deandra (femur is in the leg...) * Leon Lai / Leon Now *
Three hour delay at Philadelphia airport * Tsuneo Imahori/ Trigun
the First Donuts * Gilgamesh's Crossover Comics (for having pix of
Dracula & Alucard) * Lucy (but no transvestite Death, sorry) *
Kodomo no Omocha OST 2 * Super Butter Dog / Funky Oolong Cha *
Glenn (key teeth?) * Cookie Monster * Lack of sleep
** ** **
_Sancho_ sat at the dinner table with great anticipation. He
was surrounded by all of his family; Mama, Papa, his three sisters,
two brothers, grandmother and crazy uncle Tomas. It was nearing that
time of the year that he liked the best. Well, other than any time
where he and others could reflect on the beauty that was _Sancho_.
_Sancho_'s mother gave him a kindly look. "Now son, would you
like to say grace?"
"Yes, I think I would," he began.
"Dear Lord,
"Please bless the food we are about to recieve,
"For the nourishment of _Sancho_.
"All the world thanks you for the presence of _Sancho_.
"Just by being related to him, the family of _Sancho_ will
always have good fortune.
"We thank You for creating _Sancho_, just as much as You must
thank Yourself for creating _Sancho_ to walk the earth.
"Amen."
_Sancho_'s family blinked a couple times.
This week's _Sancho_... Thanksgiving.
(
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