Ben 10 dosent belong to me. If it did, I would be happier than most people are. And most of the people in this fic aint mine either. They belong to their respective peps.
Thank you, and enjoi
House of 1000 Weirdo's
Prologue
"This is the house I cut the flesh
Come on in
This is the house
Built on sin
This is the house
Nobody lives
This is the house
You get what you give
And make it bleed
Fresh skin
Is what I need
I let it dry
Out in the wood
All your crying
Did no good, yeah"
- Rob Zombie, "House of 1000 Corpses".
It was an ordinary night in the semi-small, out of the way hamlet of Tinsel Town. Well, as ordinary as it would be for the pre- July 4th festivities. And in the swinging danceiteria of Club Elysian, the towns people were partying full swing. The dance floor was crowded with sweating dancers as they stepped to the tune of the song being played my the band Ms. Strange & the Boogeymen.
I'm going to go into the fir trees
There where I last saw her
But the evening is throwing a cloth upon the land
and upon the ways behind the edge of the forest
And the forest it is so black and empty
Woe is me, oh woe
And the birds sing no more
Without you I cannot be
Without you
With you I am alone too
Without you
Without you I count the hours without you
With you the seconds stand still
They aren't worth it
The bands singer, the epitomes Ms. Strange, was quite a sight to see, herself. What with her wild clothing, a mix of gothic Lolita and punk; her black and purple hair, and her pointy cat frame glasses. Her band was filled of equally odd and interesting characters, as well. Her drummer had a mow hawk and scar across his right eye, and a scar going across the underside of his neck. The lead guitarist was a tall, angular man with high cheekbones and a wild look in his eyes. The man on keyboard wore a black tuxedo. The bassist wore all black, and had a dead look in his eyes,
Despite their differences or because of it, they played wonderfully. Ms. Strange hammed it up by doing an over dramatic sweep of her trench coat and holding her hands to her face in a 'woe is me' sort of look. The audience loved it. The song was almost over, when trouble stepped through the front doors. Two large, particularly drunk men walked into the club like they ownd the place.
"Hey! You two get the hell outta here!" called the bar keep.
"Cram it, shrimp. We just came to party." said one of them. The bar keep secretly pressed two fingers against a Spade tattoo on his wrist. On stage, Ms. Strange could feel her own tattoo start to burn slightly. She stopped singing and instructed her band to stop playing.
"Ladies and germs, forgive the interruption. But we have some unwelcome guests in the house." She pointed to the bar area of the club, where the two men stood stupid and over confident.
"What? We can do what we want! Don't any a' you chimps try an stop us!" The two high fived, ego over coming common humility. Ms. Strange lept off stage and stalked towards the men. The crowd gave shouts of encouragement. She stopped in front of them, trying to be polite.
"I gave you two a warning last time. If you don't leave my building in the next minute, I'll be forced to take drastic measures." she said with all sincerity. The men just laughed.
"And whats a chubby little, broad like you gonna do about it?" Ms. Strange puffed up slightly when they said 'broad', but stayed cool.
"I cant say. Look, gentlemen, let's be reasonably. I don't want a repeat performance of your last drunken escapade." She was referring to when these two boke into the alcohol storage room and almost burned the club down. But the men would not be so easily removed.
"Yeah, whatever. Just get your butt back on stage. And while your at it, why don't you take off some of them clothes you got on!" one said lewdly. The crowd was agast, and Ms. Strange was very close to losing her cool.
"That's it. I gave you a fair warning, now leave before you get hurt!"
She was answered with a back handed slap across the face. The entire club went silent. The band's guitarist about lept off the stage, but the bassist held him back.
"You know she would never forgive you for spoiling her fun." he said very dead-pan. The guitar player stayed back. Ms. Strange just stood still, her head still in the slapped position. Her glasses had been smacked off and sent to the other side of the bar. The drunk two-some laughed, proud of their work.
Ms. Stranges head moved to face the two. When she opened her eyes, they were no longer human eyes. The whites had turned black, her average brown colored iris' changed to red, and the pupil was white. The people around the bar area cleared put, knowing what would come next. The men looked confused for a moment, but confusion soon turned to terror. Hands encircled their ankles as shadowy hands began to pull the two down into an inky blackness that had opened up beneath their feet. Their screams of fear feel on deaf ears.
As soon as they had disappeared into their own shadow's, Ms. Strange turned her twisted gaze to the front doors, where the two reaped, both visible shaken out of inebriation. They looked back at the club, only to scream and run at the sight of the club owners deadly gaze. Then, she held out her hand, wordlessly asking for her glasses. One of the waitresses' picked them up and put them in her hand. When she faced the crowd again, her evil eyes were gone and a Cheshire cat-like smile was on her face.
"Alrighty, then! Who wants to hear some Rammstein!" the crowd roared in agreement. Ms. Strange cheerfully bounded back to the stage, where the Boogeymen were in the first strains of Du Hast.
Max Tennyson woke up with a start. His face was drenched in sweat, and his heart was ponding like a drum. He breathed slowly, trying to calm down. When he was clam, Max looked to the back and watched his grandchildren sleep. Absently, he felt of his neck. It was still bruised from when Eloi almost choked the life out of him. Max got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He slashed some cool water on himself, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream that shock him.
Eloi. His bastard daughter. His sin. She hated every fiber in his being with every fiber of her own. And all in all, Max couldn't blame her. Though he had been a young man at the time, he should have known of the danger involved. He should have asked Weena...
Max felt bile rise in his throat. He took a swig of water and gargled to get the taste out. Then their was the dream. A house on some lonely hill, a group of people, all different, all dedicated. And that girl, if you could call her that. Her eyes were not human...
Max shook himself. He'd better get back to bed, had to hit the road early if they wanted to get to Tulsa on time. But he was afraid to sleep. Afraid that more dreams would assault his mind. So he lay in his bed, staring out the window... staring into the mysterious black of space.
Yay, prologue! Giggity! Welcome to my first ever sequel! I hope you all likey so far. Please leave all questions at the end of the fic. Thank you!
Carpe Noctem 3