A ghost from Johnny's past guides him on a journey through the most seldom-trodden part of is own mind: his memory.
AN: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and all related characters and themes are property of Jhonen Vasquez and Slave Labor Graphics.
-CHAPTER 1-NAILBUNNY'S RIGHT-
The young man raised the pistol and rested the barrel tenderly upon his own temple. "You can't do this!" a small voice in is mind protested. "There are other answers…"
"No! I've had enough of this bullshit!" he replied aloud, his voice trembling as much as the finger on the trigger. Clenching his eyes, he makes to squeeze the trigger when another voice enters his mind. A soft, female voice full of empathy: one he is sure that he has never heard before.
"Nailbunny's right. Death isn't the remedy this time, Nny."
Johnny C. looks up and realizes that the speaker is external. A young woman stands before him, deep concern in her gray eyes. Her white coat brushing against the toes of her white boots, straight white-blond hair falling in curtains about her breasts. She blinks serenely and smiles at him. Johnny blinks back and points the pistol at her in reply. "Who the fuck are you?"
The woman giggles softly and places her hand through the shaft of the weapon, "You can't kill me, Nny – I'm already dead. As for who I am… I can't tell you upfront. That would defeat the purpose of my being here – you have to remember that for yourself. I can only say this: You were once a Waste-lock. I was your Key. I am every answer that you have ever sought. Find me, and let your mind take comfort in the wisdom that I bear."
With that, the woman fades before Johnny's eyes; a key on a chain rests on the floorboards in her place. He places the gun down, leans forward and lifts the chain with the same finger that came so close to ending his life. R? is inscribed into it.
"My key?" he whispers curiously.