Author's Note: Taking a mental break from fairy tale adaptations with a good old fashioned dystopian music video adaptation. As with Mr. Brightside, I recommend watching the official Feel Good Inc. music video before viewing this. And buying it. Support the official release!
6-22-14: I fixed a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes, and changed the ending to fit with the overall theme. So sorry!
Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing or Gorillaz. I love the weird and wonderful animation, bizzare storylines, dark atmosphere, unforgettable characters, relevant themes, and so on.
Over a polluted, dystopian, post-Industrial city, with its valleys of concrete between towers of iron and steel (the proverbial "concrete jungle" that had long driven out natural ones) a single monolith towered over the city. High above the thick, yellow, afternoon smog; above the circling helicoptors that spied on its citizens to ensure absolute obediance; above the machinery and cameras and wireless signals; the monolith rose above the clouds.
Up where the air was clear, the clouds were white instead of brown, and the sun shined gold and bright instead of a sickly yellow, a single monolith made a little den of pollution of its own.
On the tower was plastered the logo "Feel Good Inc."
Deep within the highly tinted windows, no one could appreciate the beauty of nature outside. The windows and doors were all sealed tight, all made of solid steel or thick tinted plexiglass to prevent any natural air or light from getting in. Then again, the denizens were too high on synthetic drugs, lights, and music to care.
Among the strung out, the Wild Geese band lounged among them. The drummer had a topless woman with long blonde hair draped over his soulder as he played the beat. The bass guitarist lounged shirtless in a sea of buxom, beautiful, wanton women that lazily drew circles over his bare chest. The pianist sat high on pain pills and crack in a large chair.
Pip Bernadotte had believed he and his band had risen to stardom when their records began selling, their popularity soared, and they were elevated to the top of the world (literally).
Once, they had all been the dregs of society deep in the concrete valleys below. The scum of the earth. Worthless prodigal sons that ran off to fight in wars for cheap pay and the fun of it. Then, after vampires took over, there was little hope of winning and nothing to fight for. Their hobby of playing music as a band started taking more and more of their time. They started playing more often, and offered to play in seedy clubs and bars to take people's minds off what was happening.
At first, they played for free. It was a hobby, what did they care? Then they got marginaly pay. A few bucks an hour and free meals/drinks for providing entertainment. All right, fair compensation for their time. Then they became more popular, more sought after. Establishments started offering more money to court more of their time. Clubs started offering higher prices to beat out what the competition was willing to pay. Well, this was getting better and better.
One thing led to another, and you can imagine what happened over time. They got more popular. They got more busy. They started playing for more and more places, for better and better clientel. They started playing for more illustrious night clubs, reputable strip joints, rich blokes' private parties at their mansions. Soon the seedy little bars and clubs they got their start playing for could no longer afford their services, though they continued playing for drinks until the day the talent scout showed up.
A dandy vampire talent scout, aptly called "The Dandy Man," heard them playing and just had to give them his card.
After talking (and fighting) it over, they eventually called him back, and with his guidence they rose to stardom.
At first, Pip thought it was too good to be true. Their simple hobby of playing music to relax and forget all the terrible things that were happening outside reached a wide audience, gained recognition, and won them fame and glory.
They went from being the entertainment that celebrities hired to play for their pool parties to being celebrities themselves. They got invited to play for the most exclusive night clubs, top notch strip clubs, and even hookah bars and opium houses. Then they got unlimited access to these places without even having to play for them.
Every night, they got as many drinks and women as they wanted. Everywhere they went, VIP gates opened for them and tables were cleared for them. Everyone knew who they were; every bloke wanted to be their friend, and every girl wanted to be their date. Every night was a night of unparalleled pleasure; of bright lights, pounding music, smokey rooms, unlimited drinks, dark corners, bare breasts and blonde hair.
Sex was no longer some cheap, dirty, ugly, stingy whore they had to save up pocket change to have once, then try to forget over a cigarette. The Wild Geese had all the most beautiful, clean, groomed, thin girls they ever wanted, and in abundance. Every night involved at least one girl on each arm, tangles of limbs in the dark, orgies of unparalleled pleasure, and new girls to wake up next to every afternoon. If he slept with the same girl twice, he never knew because he never got their names, and they all looked the same anyway. After a while, only their ethnicity told them apart because they all dressed and wore their hair the same.
Soon the Wild Geese's success went beyond the establishments. Their fame rose above the clubs and strip joints and brothels and opium houses they played for. So, on the advice of The Dandy Man, they built their own exclusive, elusive, illustrious joint. A place that combined the pleasures of a club, a brothel, and a drug house, for unmitigated pleasure. A place so exclusive that only anybody who's anybody could get in, and the rest would beg and plead and crowd around it, hoping for just the chance to get in.
So, the men rose above the city, literally as well as figuratively, and got to enjoy the fruits of their success in a tower they built, aptly called the "Feel Good Inc."
... But something was wrong.
Pip had tasted the fruit of the gods. He had gorged in it, got drunk off it, and drowned in it every day. Yet, over-saturation had made it taste like nothing. The tasty beers he once enjoyed now only made him feel numb, all the delicious food turned to ash in his mouth, and all the pleasurable company in the world could not satisfy his lust. Oh sure, he got off and got up after every session, but it no longer felt like anything special. Just rub bodies, cum, then leave.
Even gnats could do it.
Everything felt empty, dead, and hollow. Every day, it was the same. Play their music to adoring fans that were too drunk, high, and sexed up to hear what they were playing. Get too drunk, high, and sexed up to see or hear anything else themselves. Drown out all real feelings and experiences with the artificial ones of the synthetic drugs, sex, lights, and music.
They had thought they had risen above the pain and miseries of the world, above the vampires' tyrannical influence, and made life better for humans under the new regime.
But it was all a trap. A machine. And they had gotten caught in the cogs. Not only did they get caught in the cogs, they became the cogs. They became the machine. They kept the machine running with their music, mindless entertainment, wanton indulgence, and enouragement to the masses.
"Bravo..." the fat man in the white suit said, as he clapped his hands. "Really, we couldn't have done it without you!"
"You mean, you..." Pip growled.
"But of course!" the fat man said, "It was our plan all along to keep you humans complacant by feeding you all the basic pleasures you enjoy, so you would all become too busy self-indulgent to realize we vampires run everything. We have been running everything from behind the shadows for a year and a half, and they - the masses - your adoring fans, have not noticed a thing. And why would you care? As long as the ones running everything gave them the food, drinks, drugs, sex, music, and entertainment they crave (nothing great, mind you just enough to hit a sweet spot), what did they care that their freedom has been stripped from them?"
"They'll find out once we tell them!" Pip snapped.
"Oh really? Und who's going to believe you?" the fat man in the suit asked, and leaned back so shadows covered his entire face except his glasses. "You sir, und your Wild Geese, have helped promote this new lifestyle, this new Inc., with your music und example. Even if they could comprehend you over their drug und sex-induced haze, who would believe you?"
Pip nearly broke down as he was forced to admit the little Major was right.
"I'll make you a deal, though," the Major said, and pointed to a closed elevator door that said EXIT: "That door leads straight outside the tower, as the elevators only come up. (So many humans over-dose, you see.) If you can jump out that door und survive the fall... you can go wherever you want, und tell whomever you please."
Since he was not a vampire, and thus could not fly, and was not a virgin, and thus could never become one, Pip was trapped.
The empire they built turned out to be their prison.
Naturally, Pip felt highly disillusioned with his life. Not even life, his existence. His wretched, empty, meaningless, worthless existence. He got drunk every night; so what? He had sex every few hours; what for? Drugs meant nothing, so he quit those. Music...
Music was the only thing that kept him going, but how? All the feelings, the passion, the zest for life that had once fueled his music was gone. He could not even muster the energy to feel passionately angry at the Dandy Man or the Major for tricking them. Only impotent hopelessness. He should have seen it coming, yet became so numb, complacant, and strung out with his new life that he couldn't even bring himself to feel truly enraged or horrified at them.
Their lethargy affected their music. The men once played with passion, rhythm, and drive. Now they just wistlessly plucked at their strings and tapped on their keys, at whatever lazy melody entered their heads. They plucked as they lounged in their own private club, which was also their public prison.
Women often danced in cages as they played, to get people moving and dancing as they did. It had long stopped working effectively, but one little blonde dancer caught Pip's eye. Her job was the dance in the cage during certain hours, and fawn over them in others. She did the former, but didn't seem to care for the latter. While other women literally threw themselves at their feet, she stood off to the side and looked at them with bemusement; nothing more. In fact, she had her own interests. When she wasn't dancing, he found she could play music.
A woman creating her own music instead of throwing herself at a musician? Unheard of in the Inc.! Yet she did it.
Not only did she create music, but it was good. Soothing, relaxing; it was inspiring in its innocent simplicity.
He found that her little fingers gently brushed a few little chords in his jaded existence.
Still, they remained the stars and centers of the Inc., despite their lethargic indifference.
However, one night, their vocalist surprised him by stirring from his high long enough to sing.
"Feel good," he murmured.
Sh-ka
sh-ka
Sh-ka
Sh-ka
"Feel good," he sang again.
The bass guitarist played more forcefully.
"Shake it,
Shake it,
Shake it,
Shake it,
Feel good!" the vocalist cried.
The bass guitarist rose to his feet, and played the new beat as well as the drummist.
Figuring, "Might as well," Pip took his guitar and played the beat.
The lead vocalist then held out a microphone and sang as clearly as he could into it, as loudly as he could into it, what he had to say, hoping to snap everyone out of their lethargy and move them into action.
City's breaking down on a camel's back.
They just have to go 'cause they don't know wack
So all you fill the streets it's appealing to see
"Wanna see the latest movie?"
"Ja!"
You won't get out the county, 'cause you're bad and free
The blonde dancer looked Pip in the eye and made air quotes with her fingers while her lips mouthed the word "free."
"Free to have the most wonderful time!" one blonde young woman said as she downed a pill. "Everyone's happy nowadays!"
"And that's all you're free to do," Pip murdered bitterly.
The vocalist continued to wade through the sea of strung out patrons, as he himself swayed as he was strung out, as he continued to sing into the microphone:
You've got a new horizon it's ephemeral style.
A melancholy town where we never smile.
And all I wanna hear is the message beep.
My dreams, they've got to kiss me 'cause I don't get sleep, no
Only one girl's song helped him sleep. It was a shallow, fitful sleep, but it lulled him as much as any could. She sometimes sat on the arm of the chair that he often passed out high in, and she leaned forward and sometimes rubbed his arm as she sang a gentle lullaby under her breath, while he drifted off into the most relaxing rest he could experience.
One night, Pip watched them, and she turned to look at him curiously.
It was the little blonde dancer he liked to watch, and now, with her turned to look at him, he saw her in a new light.
Amid all the drugs and sex, lethargy and apathy, drunken stupor and wild nights, a single young girl was untouched by the corruption and self-indulgence.
She was young and blonde, busty and buxom; short yet long-limbed. Her hair was short and messy, her skin supple and pale, her clothes as tight-fitting as all the others. At first glance, she didn't look much different from the dozens of blonde women who came seeking a good time, or who were compelled to stay and forever give it.
Yet, there was an innocence... a purity about her, that the smoke and phermones of the Inc. had not yet touched. She was surrounded by such nudity and depravity, but she did not partake in it. While she dressed as revealingly as anyone wanted, danced as titillatingly as the vampires demanded, there was nothing overtly sensual about her. In fact, she seemed barely aware of her sexuality.
Her eyes were as big, clear, and blue as the sky outside.
Her short messy blonde hair and large blue eyes gave her a look of childishness, boyishness, that was titillating for the very reason it was not aware it was titillating. Unlike countless "Moe" and "Lolita" girls that Pip had encountered in his fame, who tried their hardest to look "cute," "kawaii," infantile, and so on, even though they were just sexing it up... she really looked sexy because of her innocence and virginity.
This girl honest to goodness was not trying to look cute, pretty, or "sexy!". She came by it honestly, and this was rare; almost unheard of.
For Pip, who had spent an immesurable time saturated in overly sexualized women that wanted nothing but a good lay before moving on, this was a refreshing change of pace. He looked at her, and her looks alone were a breath of fresh air in this hazy, stuffy, crowded room.
She didn't seem to like the air in the Inc. either. In fact, she seemed downright repulsed by it. She frowned at the more vulgar lyrics, covered her ears to the louder music (she said later that it hurt her ears; that it felt like a jackhammer in her head), and absolutely glared hate at all the drunken, horny men that came onto her.
When the Inc. seemed too unbearable, or there was a lull in the music that allowed her to think, she would sing a gentle song under her breath. Pip realized it was the lullaby she sang to their vocalist, 2-D.
"Windmill, windmill for the land.
Turned forever hand in hand
Take it all in on your stride
It is ticking, falling down
Love forever love is free"
"Damn right love is free! Now why don't you give it?" one of the men demanded.
The girl frowned. The more they demanded, the more evasive she became.
She was mocked by the other men in the Inc. They were also used to wanton women like the men in the band, but did not find her to be a breath of fresh air as Pip did. They found her irritating; blasphemous. They expected her to "conform to the norm"; to put out like other "hotties" that filled the Inc. They were so used to getting free sex and easily accessible women that they felt personally offended when faced with one that didn't give it.
When she was not mocked for being too innocent, she was harrassed for not putting out enough. When she danced on stage, they complained that she didn't shake her hips hard enough, or shed her clothes completely enough. (She refused to go past her underwear.) When she played guitar on her time off, they complained she didn't strip down or ride the thing like a mechanical bull for their benefit.
"Come on, lady! Work it!" they demanded.
"I'm on break!" she snapped.
"Well, you should show yer titties anyway!"
"For God's sake!" the girl said, "I'm on break! Do I have to entertain you every second I'm alive?"
There was a resounding "YES!"
"Damn straight, honey!"
"What d'you think we pay you for in here?"
"You don't pay me!" Seras snapped, "I don't even think you work here!"
"Well, you do!" one drunken man slurred, "Sso you should do yer job!"
"Fine! I just need to powder my nose!" she snapped, got up and walked into the women's washroom.
She didn't come out for the rest of the evening. Not that anyone else noticed. The complainers had long moved onto other women, drugs and/or drinks by the time she came back out. Most of them were even passed out.
So she took up her guitar like before and gently strummed at the strings, no longer interrupted by bigoted chauvinists.
Pip stood nearby, smoking a cigarette, half-covered in shadows.
"I like the way you handled that," he said.
She gasped. "WHAT?!"
He exhaled his a lungful of smoke, and turned toward her.
"The way you handled those men. I like your style."
"You're still awake?!" she cried.
He chuckled, inhaled again and emerged from the shadows.
He expected his presence to inspire her with awe, but instead she looked up at him with innocent confusion; her large blue eyes wary.
"So, what do you want?" she asked.
That deflated his ego a little.
"Don't you know who I am?" he asked.
"The leader of the Inc.?"
He grimmaced at the reminder. "Non."
"Oh, then who are you?"
His pride piqued, he said, "I am Pippen de Bernadotte, leader of the Wild Geese."
"Oh," she said, a little embarrassed. Then she raised her eyes again, "Hey, why'd you say you weren't?"
"I didn't," he grimmaced, "I said I wasn't the leader of the Inc."
"Aren't they the same thing?"
"If only," he said darkly.
His tone put a dark cloud over their conversation. She looked at him with curiosity, while he couldn't think of anything to say.
After a spell, he asked her what her name was.
"It's Seras," she said. "Seras Victoria."
Her voice was like a melody, her name like a pretty song.
He became intrigued with her. He watched her and interacted with her for a long time after that. She made him curious. He hadn't met anyone like her in a long time; not since the Inc. was erected. She was one of the women that danced in the cages suspended over the crowd, while the men played in the band. During "concerts," he could see her dancing over the crowd. She danced so well, just as well as any of them; half-naked and covered with sweat and energy. But what he found fascinating about her was just how... above she was of all the drugs, sex, and depravity of the Inc.
She danced when she needed. Then, when it was over, she went off to be by herself. She didn't clamor to get the band's attention, she didn't share joints with other patrons, she didn't go to bed with men (or women) or jump into orgies. She went to bed alone (in a corridor upstairs where people slept in one of many rows of bunks crammed into a small room), or went off to play her guitar by herself, or looked out the window, or even leaned her cheek against her palm, lost in thought.
She developed something of a reputation in the Inc. for her "prudishness." Most of the men never noticed her because she didn't throw herself in their arms like other women did, but for men who didn't have women throwing themselves at them, finding Seras turning away or walking away from their advances caused frustration.
Pip wondered what she was doing here if she wasn't interested in this lifestyle this much?
Indeed, when the much ruder men demanded: "How're you still a virgin?"
She never gave a straight answer. She only sang very gently, as though to drown out the horrors around her:
"Windmill, windmill for the land.
Turned forever hand in hand
Guess it all, guess it all you strive
It is ticking, falling down
Love forever love is free"
She slowly lifted her eyes so she could glare, but still sang softly:
"If you can't guess, don't to me"
It was not egotism that compelled her to sing, but self-preservation, self-defense; vindication.
She then lifted her eyes to meet Pip's. He felt his breath hitch.
He realized this was the first time he had looked anyone in the eye for... what was it? Weeks? Months? Years?
Her eyes were large and clear. As clear as the sky he had long stopped looking at, till just the day before when he felt a sudden, deep, heart-wrenching nostalgia for it, but could not reach it. All he could do was walk over the slumped bodies and look out the tainted windows, longing for the days when life was still innocent and free.
Innocent and free were her eyes. Bright and clear. Sweet and childlike.
She smiled gently, and they became instant friends.
"Love forever, love is free
Let's turn forever, you and me"
As he heard her sing, he felt he could almost guess what the windmill was. He really had no idea logically, but part of him felt he could almost get it if he entered the right frame of mind; felt inspired at the right second.
They became very good friends over the next few days; weeks, months, whatever. He had long stopped keeping track of time. He still watched her dance in her cage and then play her guitar when she was on break though. Showed off for her when she watched him play on stage, which made her smile and sometimes giggle; and they talked and whispered in private for hours on end when neither had anything they needed to do. They whispered private and sincere thoughts in a place where privacy existed only in the highs people got lost in.
He asked her how she got into a place like this. She said she was alone growing up, but she became a go-go dancer because it paid well and all she had to do was dance. She didn't have to strip, touch, or sleep with anyone, just get people razzed to dance and go home. She said her friends got more and more excited to visit better places like this though, and the bouncers kept letting her in because she had huge breasts.
He laughed. That made sense.
"Yeah..." she said. Then her eyes got sad, and she said she got this job and had been here ever since.
"I know the feeling," Pip said.
She sighed, then turned to him and asked him about his childhood; how he came to be here.
He was shocked by such a personal question, and tried to brush it off, but he surprised both her and himself by telling her as much about himself as she had told him. His childhood, his rise into being a mercenary, his unemployment when vampires took over, his hobby turned career when his band rose to stardom... his disillusionment when the realized the fame, fortune, and success they obtained was just orchestrated by the Inc. He said they played to relieve people from the horror of having their lives run by vampires in the first place, and now they worked for vampires to keep people complacent in being ruled by them.
"I'm so sorry," she said, and she meant it.
"Eh, it can't be helped," he grinned, but he didn't look at her. His eye was hard, and his voice was bitter.
She touched his hand, and he felt an electric jolt. And it wasn't from static.
He looked at her - her messy hair, her large blue eyes, her sweet smile, and he felt his heart blosom in his chest like a rose in spring. When did that happen?
Windmill, windmill for the land.
Turned forever hand in hand
Take it all in on your stride
It is ticking, falling down
"But it'll rise up again," she said gently as her fingers wrapped around his.
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Because mine always did," she whispered, and seemed to glow as she smiled, and leaned closer to him.
"Love forever love is free," he said, and almost felt he understood the answer to the riddle of the windmill.
Let's turn forever you and me
Windmill, windmill for the land
"Is anybody in?"
He felt more intimacy holding her hand like they were little kids, than all the painted women whose mouths he had explored, whose arms he had lowered himself in, and whose bodies he had pressed himself into.
He leaned forward to kiss her - a sweet, chaste kiss - when the walls suddenly lit up with giant screens after screens. The girl suddenly tensed and glared up at the monitors.
The giant likeness of a fat pig man wearing thick spectacles and a tacky white suit appeared. He was short and fat, with blond hair and yellow eyes, and a creepily genial smile that only grew wider the worst state the world was in.
He then flickered from view and a swarthy young man with golden eyes, a face-full of gold piercings, and dressed in a beanie and track suit appeared on the screen. His giant pierced face filled the giant screens, which covered every wall except the windowed wall showing the ouside, and he started smirking rapping:
Laughing gas these hazmats, fast cats,
Lining them up like ass cracks,
Lay these ponies at the track
It's my chocolate attack.
Shit, I'm stepping in the heart of this here
Care bear reppin' it harder this year
Watch me as I gravitate
Hahahahahahaa.
This continued over the next view days. The girl hissed and glared at the screen.
Pip's poor vocalist looked scared and subdued from being bombarded by the giant chav essentially telling them to get back in line.
Pip normally would have been subdued too, but he took a cue from the girl and glared up at them.
The swarthy dick of a vampire danced and gestured toward them as he rapped:
Yo, we gonna go ghost town,
This motown,
With your sound
You're in the blink
Gonna bite the dust
Can't fight with us
With your sound
You kill the INC.
"Good!" the girl hissed.
The rapping chav's brother, who looked much like him except he was pale with long blonde hair and dressed in a white dandy suit, emerged on the screen and pointed to her.
"But not before we kill you."
She flushed furiously.
His brother laughed again.
So don't stop, get it, get it
Until you jet ahead.
Yo, watch the way I navigate
Hahahahahhaa!
The Wild Geese's vocalize felt small and marginalized, yet he still looked hopelessly out the window at the clear blue sky and white clouds.
Despite continuing the sing, play music, and throw parties for them, Pip secretly nursed his sincere relationship with Seras Victoria. She visibly hated the Inc, and often glared at the ceilings and walls. Yet, she kept dancing in her cage, in nothing but her bra, booty shorts, thigh-high socks, and ankle-high boots.
Pip was turned on watching her dance, and dreamed of when she could dance like that on top of him, with her legs spread, her body pressed against his.
Yet, even as she danced up there, she seemed completely unaware of how sexy or titillating she was. If that made any sense. And it didn't stop when she left the dance cage.
When it was just the two of them, sitting down when everyone was high, they just talked for hours. She told him about her life, her childhood, how she came to be here (her friends wanted it, and the bouncers kept letting her in places like this because she had huge tits), and how she felt about where her life ended up.
She asked him about his life, how he came to be here, what his life was like before, and if there were things about it he missed.
Some of it made him feel homesick and nostalgic. He thought of his childhood, being raised in the country and eventually migrating to different countries to fight in wars as a mercenary. He told her of his experiences, battles, brothels, and other encounters. He told her of local people he had met, stories he had seen, stories he had been part of. He told her of comrades he once knew, and how hard they were to say good by to.
"Windmill, windmill for the land..." he said.
"Turned forever hand in hand," she grinned.
Take it all in on your stride
It is ticking, falling down
Love forever love is free
Suddenly, he understood the answer to the... what was it? Riddle? Test? Whatever it was the windmill symbolized. He thought of his childhood, when he was young and free, when he ran along the fields and trees, smelling flowers and seeing butterflies, enjoying a world that existed its own sake. The windmill was youth, childhood, innocence, love, purity, nature, and everything else in the world he gave up to be a mercenary, then sold again to create the Inc.
He half-remembered, half-imagined himself as a little boy with short messy bronze hair, sitting on the stoop of his front porch with his father's guitar in this hand. He remembered how the wind rustled the bushes near the porch and the trees around them, and how to the sway of the wind he strummed the instrument. He remembered those lazy summer days when he played in the grass, when he sat at the edge of a river while the butterflies flew around him, while the windmill near the water turned forever on.
Let's turn forever you and me
Windmill, windmill for the land
Is everybody in?
In her eyes, he saw the pure, clear, beautiful world that existed before the Inc., outside the Inc. He saw that one small spark of himself, the little boy in him that he thought had died.
In her eyes he saw everything he had loved about life before he gave it up to become what he was, and he loved her for it.
He again leaned in for a kiss, but the monitors blazed bright white. They pushed the mindless, soul-sucking music more aggressively than ever.
That damned Jan Valentine's metal mug filled the screen as he continued:
Don't stop, shit it, get it
We are your captains in it
Steady,
Watch me navigate,
Ahahahahahhaa!
The bass guitarist took the stage and gyrated his hips to vibrations of his guitar, while several blonde beauties crouched in a circle around him.
The drummer played more forcefully to the command of the Inc.
Pip eventually melted back into his role, if only not to get Seras in trouble, because he knew she was in trouble with the Inc.
Seras only glared and began to retreat further into herself. She danced the way she was supposed to dance, but not with an ounce of feeling, seduction, enjoyment, or appreciation. There was nothing but perfunctory contempt in her dancing. There was nothing but cold glares and defiant blocking of her ears when the music got too loud or too obnoxious.
While the men could get away with being perfunctory in their musical performances, the same did not hold for women entertainers like Seras. She was a go-go dancer; her job was to get people excited to dance or fuck, and if her energy wasn't right, if she wasn't doing either, she was useless. The Inc. had no tolerance for useless entertainers.
They sent a bull of a woman with a huge scythe to dispose of the useless innocent, as they did to all the others.
She approached with two bouncers, grinning maniacally as she approached.
Don't stop, shit it, get it
We are your captains in it
Steady,
Watch me navigate
Ahahahahahhaa!
The girl snarled in response, her eyes bright and her teeth bared. It was rather silly.
"Are you a girl or a cat?" the bull woman said, and gestured for bouncers to pounce.
They indeed pounced on her and started draining her dry.
"Leave her alone!" Pip cried, and tried to rescue her.
Too late, the sucked her dry, then let her fall to the floor with a loud "THUMP!"
While this was happening, the screens continued to show the rapping Jan, the stage was still filled with the air-humping bass player Murdoc, the walls still vibrated with the beat of their drummer Russel, and all eyes were either on the entertainment or the world beyond.
"NO!" Pip cried out in agony; but the girl wasn't dead.
She slowly pushed herself up, and blinked with confusion.
Her eyes were bright red, and her teeth now pointed with cute little fangs.
Pip's eyes widened. "Seras..."
The bouncers were beside themselves with panic.
"Shit! what the fuck just happened?"
"She's a vampire!"
"How could that be?"
"You fools!" the bull woman cried, "She's a virgin. That's how she became a vampire."
They were completely dumbfounded.
"A virgin?!"
"That's impossible!"
"There aren't any virgins her age anymore!"
"How'd she stay pure this whole time?"
"Does it matter? KILL HER!" the bull woman cried.
And while she did this, the Inc. still echoed with the rap of Jan and the beat of the music.
Don't stop, shit it, get it
We are your captains in it
Steady,
Watch me navigate
Ahahahahahhaa!
"That was a very nice try, Seras Victoria," the bull woman said.
Seras was momentarily distracted, which was just long enough to get her neck grabbed by one of the bouncers.
"But now, YOU DIE!" the woman screeched while she raised her scythe.
Without even thinking about it, Pip stole behind her and bashed her in the face with his guitar.
"WHAT?!" she cried, stunned.
"Leave her alone!" Pip snapped, and tried to finish her
However, both the vampire bouncers were completely unharmed, and soon Pip was struck down. Seras screamed in fear and grief. Her cries were drowned out by the laughing Jan Valentine on every screen, and Zorin Blitz who stood between them and the strung out crowd.
Seras turned Pip over so his head rested in her lap, and cried over his body.
The music carried on without them. The lead vocalist, who knew what was going on but was too high on pain pills and too frightened to do anything, kept chanting his "Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it, Feel good!" almost like a survival mantra, and crept back into his chair like he was cowed into it.
Seras cried over his body.
"Bernadotte, why didn't you stay away?" she wept.
"Ey... ey..." he whispered.
When she raised her head to look at him, he beckoned her closer with a hook of his finger.
She leaned forward, almost expecting to hear a secret, but instead he snared her lips into a kiss.
She gasped into a kiss. Her hand, which had clutched his chest, unclenched and fell away.
At last he pulled away, and laughed a pure, happy laugh. "That was for making it so easy!" he laughed. "It took me dying, but I finally stole a kiss!"
Her stunned silence turned to a heart-broken sob. "Bernadotte..."
"Hey, don't cry now. You're one tough woman, Seras. I know you're a vampire. Now, drink my blood. Drink it, and we'll beat them. We'll topple the Inc. Together."
As he collapsed, and felt her fussing and fretting over him, he thought he should have more regrets over dying. But he didn't. He had lived such a long, wretched, miserable life. Always someone else's pawn. Always spreading more death and misery than not. He thought it wasn't worth it, to cry over a mercenary. Yet, he remembered her laughing eyes, her sweet smile, her playful disposition. He thought of how often he made her laugh, made her smile. Made her eyes light up when the ink made them dull and cold.
Was it worth it, trying to save her when she seemed strong enough to save herself? Of course... If there was even a chance she was hurt, it was worth it to save her... There was a purity and sweetness in her worth preserving. Like the memories of childhood, like the windmill they both treasured, like the laughter and smiles and fun times they had shared...
She's such a good girl, he thought with his last breath, If he died saving her... c'est la vie.
Seras wept over his body.
The Inc. was still laughing. The monitors still filled the entire club with the mocking, laughing face of Jan Valentine. The dark brothel still glowed with the red eyes of the vampires that struck him down. The air was still hazy with the smoke of the patrons that were too high, strung out, and hung over to care. The room was silent except for the vampires of the Inc.
Eventually, Seras snapped. She'd finally had enough.
She drank his blood, and gained the wings they both needed to fly.
"We're going, Mr. Bernadotte," she said, "We're going to beat them. We're going to topple the Inc. Together."
And she charged.
When all the pollution of the Inc. was cleared away, she stood calmly as the dawn slowly lighted.
His band mates stared at her in terror.
"I'm off," she said calmly.
"Off? Off where?"
"I made a promise to your captain, that I would beat them. That I would topple the Inc."
She turned to look at them, and smiled; that same, lovely, pure smile that had won his heart. "So, I'm off. I'm off to topple it."
And suddenly, they understood. Their captain died right there, but he also...
"One moment, please!"
She turned to look at them with innocent confusion, just as she had once done to their captain, and they saluted and wished them, "Sir, good luck, sir!"
And she smiled, and nodded, and ran through the only door that leads out, into the bright, clear, crisp, pure night sky.
Then, with her new wings, they flew.
Well, that ended more sadly than I thought.
Remember kids, there is no happy ending with a dystopia, so do what you can to prevent it from happening!
At least Seras doesn't have to live with the terror of knowing he'll grow old and die without her, so... yay...?
EDIT: I fixed most of the grammar mistakes, fleshed out Seras' past and relationship with Pip, and I also changed the ending from her being a vampire all along to being turned into a vampire after she was drained. I think it adds an extra bit of irony and karmic justice for the Inc. They go to all this trouble brain-washing people with drugs and sex to control them, they fail to control this girl by pressuring her into having lots of drunken party sex, try to punish/dispose of her for failing to control her, but the very reason they couldn't control her becomes the means by which she gains the strength overcome their establishment.