DISCLAIMER: This story contains a homosexual character, HOWEVER, it is not suposed to be considered "yaoi", I simply thought it would be different and even somewhat of a plot device if we had a gay couple. Surely, there will be some erotic content, but nothing for the sake of fanservice. Besides, this is Shadows of the Damned, how could is NOT contain eroticism and penis jokes?
The OC'S used do indeed bear resemblance to the characters of the same name that belong to me and VampireCherry (As she is known in tumblr) , but they have been tweaked to fit this universe better.
I don't own any of Suda51's work, this is a non-profit fanfiction created out of pure boredom (And sadness that we still don't have a sequel to Garcia's adventures).
ACT 1 -1 "FIRST CONTACT"
Maybe his life at school wasn't the best. Maybe his friends weren't exactly real. Maybe people called him a freak because of his eyes and skinny body... But the little 11 year old boy had been blessed with amazing parents. "You know, you're gonna grow up someday... And I'm not gonna manage to keep up with you all the time." Garcia looked into his son's eyes, searching for visible understanding. "So I got you something." Just like any child, Morten's eyes went bright in expectation."What is it?" Garcia chuckled and leaned forwards in his chair. "Calm down nino..." Some silence followed, the smile in his father's face turned into a slightly worried expression. Almost embarrassed. "Ah... You like... Books don't you? Fiction?" Morten nodded. "Hm... How often do you read about talking objects?" "Kinda often..." "Well, do you think other people would find it weird if they saw a thing talking?" "Yeah... I mean, I would, too." "It's the kinda thing you can't tell other people about." The boy nodded again. "Hm-hum..." "That's why you can't talk to anyone about the present I'm giving you. Well, no one but me and your mother." Garcia held out a necklace, a little golden skull hung from it. "Mort, this is Johnson." Despite his vivid imagination, Morten was sure his dad had lost his marbles. The boy propped his knees on the seat and reached out for the necklace. His eyes almost popped out when the skull's jaw moved, and the pendant started babbling with a funny voice. "Okay, can I talk now?" It said "Well, Hello Morten. Do you remember me? I mean, seeing a talking, flying skull MUST have bee a pretty shocking experience for a baby, perhaps you still carry some memory of it. How about this, you used to grab me when I least expected and shake me like a proper knob-end. Ring any bells?" "I... I'm sorry..." Garcia sighed and rubbed his face. "He has been with us for a long time, but I didn't want to scare you." "Scare him? Scare him? Garcia, I've seen your son's internet history! The things this boy-" He shut his hand around the pendant, leaving only Johnson's muffled talking in the air. "Thanks dad, really." "You can't tell anyone about this, okay kid?" A painfully nervous smile took the place on his face. "I don't think I'd want to do that anyway. But..." He scowled. "Where did this come from...?" "Ah, from... You know, where he belongs." "Where?" Garcia sighed. "Beyond the sound barrier. How about that?"
His mother was probably the prettiest and sweetest woman he would ever lay eyes on; and his dad was, to the child, the strongest man in the world. He didn't care about superman, in his head, daddy had been a true superhero in the past... He even had scars on his face; something he claimed to have achieved while fighting "bad guys", all to make the world safer for him and mom.
"What about this one?"
Morten shook his head. The small skull dangling from his lobe whined, filling his ears with reasons as to why he should buy the doughnut with the strawberry frosting rather than the vanilla ones. Johnson knew that they couldn't talk in public like that, but he often insisted in asking questions or teasing him. Perhaps he did it on purpose, for the sake of feeling like he had won whatever one-sided discussion they were having once that the teenager was unable to reply.
The young cashier boxed the fatty meal and exchanged it for Morten's money. He was a 14 year old boy who worked for his father, and mistakenly had decided to admire that particular client. Morten didn't think of himself as much of a role-model, with the sides and back of his head shaved clean and a ring hanging from his lip, he would feel very guilty if the kid turned out to be as much of a nightmare to his dad as he was... Not because he caused trouble, but rather because trouble usually took place around him.
His hands were already lingering into the pink package after the lime-flavored doughnut by the time his boots splashed into the pool of water that had formed in front of the store's front door. Morten smiled and took a bite, doing his best not to get the food drenched in rain by half-sticking it into his coat.
"You're gonna get vanilla on your shirt."
Morten checked if any of the filling was spilling from the sides of the box. "Nah, we're good."
"No, really, perhaps I should hold the box for you."
"Nice try... Doesn't even makes sense, though."
"There you go mocking my state again. I mean, really Morten? How can you call yourself open-minded when you- AAAGH!"
Ever since they switched from necklace to earring, making Johnson shut up had gotten more difficult. It felt like having a little mosquito singing into your ear all the time... But unlike a mosquito, instead of leaving the dangerous area when slapped, Johnson just screamed louder and made more of a fuss. Not even earphones could stop him, as he would just bite them off and mumble whatever nonsense he wanted to talk about.
Today's subject was how loud his boots were. "Seriously, I can listen to them from up here! How much does that weight? Do you use them to develop stronger legs? Thats a very lazy exercise.", he mumbled while Morten climbed up the stairs to his parent's apartment. The couple was going to be gone for two days, and despite having been offered, their son would much prefer having some time of his own, even if that meant having to walk to and back from school instead of having his father's ride. After all, he was almost 17, and it was nice to have a little taste of adult life.
"... For fuck sake." Morten rolled his eyes, but still had a bit of a grin when he caught the first glimpse of the only open door of the corridor. He put the keys back in his pockets and approached the place. "You know, it's not that much of a surprise if you leave the door hanging open." He grabbed the knob and quickly examined the inside of the apartment while talking to the nothing. Everything seemed alright. "You better not be trying to scare me..."
The doughnuts were placed rather carelessly on top of the kitchen counter, and after getting rid of his wet coat, Morten started to make his way to his bedroom. "Helloooo?"
"He's going to jump you again and I'm going to shit my nonexistent pants..." Johnson whispered, still traumatized from his last experience.
He was referring to something that happened last month, in Morten's birthday; All the lights were out, and Samuel actually picked the lock and faked a robbery. After the scare was over, the two of them just rolled around the floor, laughing at each other and particularly at Johnson's memorable curses.
Samuel was... A friend. A very dear friend. He had stood up to Morten ever since he was 13, when he was nothing more than a scared rabbit... They weren't exactly the prettiest couple, just two greasy punks with chapped mouths and eyeliner, but they meant more to each other than most people were able to see.
He could go to lengths about their love being "misunderstood" and what not. But all that was way too cliche... It was better to keep it to himself. Not that anyone gave two shits if Morten liked dicks better than chicks, but no one really liked Samuel all that much. No one but Morten and their small group of friends.
"Hey..." He dropped his bag by the bedroom's door and approached the skinny figure sitting on the bed. "I got your favorites. They're in the kitchen."
Samuel was dressed in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, as usual, his feet were bare on the floor, boots and socks probably thrown somewhere in the house. His head hung strangely low, that long, slick hair of his making a barrier between his face and the rest of the world.
"Sam...? Are you alright?"
There was no answer.
"I don't like it when you do these things, just-" A loud snap got Morten to freeze in the spot. Suddenly, the bed bent, each edge suddenly going up like a bear-trap and closing in on the person that sat. Samuel's legs twitched before being swallowed in as well. Shocked, all the teen did was stare as the sheets were sucked in, the mattress melted and the entire structure 'rusted away' and mixed into one another. It all formed a shape, something that could only be described as a large metal barrel. Further examination; it seemed to be dressed in a large cloak, something old and damaged by time and bullets. The "barrel" grew limbs, two thick arms and the most grotesque head Morten had ever seen. Something dead-like, with three pairs of eyes that extended his face up like a tower.
"SAM!" Morten screamed out at the thing, shaking all over while it started to laugh. He wished he could blame it all on a terrible nightmare, but in a world where something like Johnson exists, he was in no place to doubt whatever was going on simply because it was 'impossible'.
All he could think about was what had happened to Samuel. Had that thing just devoured him? Was a few seconds all that took to destroy something of such importance to Morten? That thought made his body tremble all over.
"What the fuck are you?!" His voice struggled to come out of his throat, and as it did, he already could feel the wetness in his eyes. Father had said plenty of times that he should never set a limit on what to expect, but he... He never warned him of something like this.
Despite the apparently stiff face, the demon opened his mouth laughed hoarsely. "What I am...? Disappointed... I expected more from you."
Morten took a few steps back, clumsily while deciding whether he should run away as fast as possible or dare to attack. He didn't want to do either of those options. How could he dare to run off? Chicken out on Samuel like that? And yet, what exactly would he do against that thing? The demon must 've been at least twice his size, the strongest of his kicks would barely make him lose balance.
"Do you want him back?"
It felt like there was something missing. The way he spoke to him... Like a old-school bully taking lunch money from smaller kids... Without need for introduction, because they should be expecting him for being weaker. Is that what the demon was? A bully randomly picking a victim? No. There was something in there. Something that Morten should know about.
"Yes..."
"Oh, I'm more than eager to give this little... Ratty thing back to you. But child... " He extended out of his large hands. "I want something from you as well."
Morten scowled. "What? What do you want?"
"I need the happy little couple who brought you into this world.
"What?" Truth be told; he shouldn't be this confused. He had always known there was something shady about his family, even before Johnson was given to him. "... No! I can't do that!"
The demon frowned and extended his arm, a cane as tall as him materialized and he took a hold of it. Morten couldn't help but think he might be compensating for something.
"Then I'll need to find a use for boy-toy..."
A much known British accent echoed inside of his head. "Quick, take me out..."
Morten pretended to scratch his ear as he pulled the earring out. "Who are you, anyway..."
"I'd have hoped Garcia to warn you about me... Perhaps he thought I actually forgot about the damage he caused me and my kingdom... Call me... Fleming."
He distractedly looked down at the skull in his hand, a flash blinded him momentarily, and the nearly lacking weight of the jewelry suddenly enlarged. Morten was now holding a rather different looking gun, carrying almost no resemblance to any he had seen before. No need to say any more, he pointed it towards the so-called-Fleming and pulled the trigger.
Pain went through his right arm and stopped at his shoulder, his muscles were tense and not prepared for the kick that the revolver had. The bullet blasted into Fleming's head, making a dent between this second pair of eyes.
"Okay, now RUN!"
Certain that he had gotten in trouble now, Morten didn't even attempt to argue with Johnson. He turned back and sprinted to the living room, catching only glimpses of what seemed to be two black women who casually sat in his couch. The boy was only able to hear them scream and begin to run after him, but he didn't dare to look back."Down the the stairs, down the stairs!" Johnson continued to give him rather obvious directions, Morten thought about telling him to turn back into a earring, as the revolver was in fact weighting him down a bit... But he was too busy wondering if one of the woman had in fact a gaping hole in her head or if his eyes had fooled him.
He shot the courtyard's door and it slammed open, now on the street, Johnson continued to give him instructions. "Now, throw me away!Throw me!"
"Are you singing some emo break-up song or actually trying to help me?!"
"Morten, just do it!"
He cursed under his breath and did as told. Before hitting the floor, another light flashed and the gun had changed radically again, landing on the floor as a motorcycle, engine already roaring and speeding up towards him. Morten got on without question and begun to ride away, without real idea of where he was going to besides for 'Fucking far away'.
Unfortunately, the ride didn't last much more than a minute, as he caught sight of the large statue-looking man in the middle of the road, and was forced to come to a stop. Due to his lack of skill, the thing turned on it's side and slid a few feet away from Fleming, throwing Morten off, who painfully hit his head on the pavement.
Fleming, instead of mercifully striking him into limbo, turned around and begun to laugh once again.
"You are a SHAME. I'd think Hotspur would worry to shape you into something more worth my while... But look at you, thrown on the floor like a rag doll, hiding a scared face behind dark make-up like a rebel... I would be making this place a favor by ridding it of you... Morten..."
"Fuck you!" The boy barely managed to sit up with the help of his weak arms, but was spiting out towards his enemy with all the dignity he had left.
"Ah, you got his tongue... That's something, but not enough." Suddenly, his body opened like the doors of a closet, and out of it came Samuel; he fell on all fours on the concrete, and tried to stand up before Fleming's cane came down onto his upper back with only force enough to pin him to the floor. "Do not think that I'll simply let him die... He'll just come with me, waiting for your arrival."
The suggestive position that Samuel was put in infuriated him. Morten clumsily stood up and shouted. "Don't you dare touch him!"
"Fortunately for you, he is not of my taste... But do keep in mind... I'll need to find ways to entertain myself if you take too long." Hand's reached out from the demon's open torso and pulled Samuel back inside before it was sealed shut. "Don't forget about our trade..." Much like the limbs that had taken Sam into him, another hand raised from the earth, big enough to wrap it's finger's around Fleming and disappear with him in the same fashion.
Morten kneeled, he considered standing up... But what for? What the hell could he actually do? The teen rubbed his face in disbelief, reviewing all that had just happened as absolute silence took over the street... Left to himself, Morten begun to sob desperately.
Said quietness seemed to last much longer than he would like. That's probably what life would be like all the time if his parent's or Samuel were no longer around.
"Come on..." Johnson came by, having apparently abandoned his previous shape and now floating around as a flaming skull. "Morten... You have to stay strong. Stop crying, you're a pretty big fella if you ask me."
"I'm not..."
"...Well, I said it anyway."
"Johnson... I'm not strong... It's no use."
"Yes you are!" He shouted. "Crying doesn't make you weak!"
"But you just said-"
"Bullocks, forget what I said. You can cry all you want, as long as we get through it, alright?"
He sniffed and stumbled onto his feet, the skull followed to float higher so he could keep eye-to-empty-eye-sockets contact.
"We gotta... We gotta get Sam back..."
"Of course, of course... Your boyfriend..." He sighed, trying to be as understandable as he could. "Well, we should call your father and ask him to help us..."
"No."
"What?'No'? What do you mean 'No'?"
"No! That thing... It wanted him. Him and mom. I can't let it get near them... Johnson, you gotta help me find him!"
"A-ha! No way! I promised Garcia I'd keep you away from any friggin' danger, not show you the way into it!"
Morten glared and grabbed the skull, fortunally for him, the flames didn't seem to burn. "Fine... Then let's go back home." He threw it purposely hard on the floor, Johnson squeaked and turned back into the Motorcycle.
"I'm glad to see you've come to your friggin' senses." He said as the teenager mounted him and sped up down the road. "I mean, seriously Morty? Follow Fleming into that hellish place all on your own? That must be the most ridiculous thing I've heard from you ever since you said that 'Game Of Crowns' was a good show. This is just like losing your virginity all over again, you make a pouty face, say you can do it, then the next day you won't stop shifting in your bloody cha-Wait." Morten smirked as Johnson finally came to realization. "This isn't the way home... Morten, Morten! Turn around this instant! Besides, you are going WAY faster than your dad allows! What the bloody hell are you doing?!"
"Hmmm..." He moaned teasingly. "Just breaking the sound barrier."
Before Johnson didn't even have any time to stop him, they had done it. Again, much like Morten's virginity.