As always, stories like this are hard to start out. But, I believe once it gets going, the beginning will come. This is my first (posted) fanfiction, so be gentle~ Reviews are greatly welcome, to tell how I might improve~ And now, I offer the ever-popular words of Mark Twain...

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted. Persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished. Persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR.

What a sight this was. Johnny C had to admit it. Some trashy club he'd stumbled upon, not his preffered choice, but it was overflowing with wastes of air and assholes. He didn't hesitate to hoist his old backpack and, with a disturbing smile, unleash his favorite weapons upon the unsuspecting goths and questionable older men this sewer was comprised of. Some (a lot, really, mostly screeching females) had tried to run. None had gotten close to the door. Such a beautiful sight... The still-warm corpses spattered with blood, organs and brain matter spilling everywhere. Overpowering the stench of alchohol, with an arguably more repulsive stench. "Well... at least I have plenty of 'paint' for the wall." The man chuckled lightly at his half-hearted joke.

Johnny C, Johnny the Homicial Maniac, Nny, and who knows what other names he'd been called during his life? (He didn't.) He had grown quite a reputation, one he was proud of. (Although there were very few to testemate that fact.) Even without the looming threat of the Thing Behind the Wall (It's not a moose) breaking loose, Johnny would still continue his odd profession, his life's work, sans the restriction of having to bring back fresh blood to paint the wall. Yes, things would be much easier if the damned monster was gone. He sighed, and began the work of filling a bucket with hot crimson...

"Come on, honey, wanna take a ride with us? Ya look cold." Morgan glared icy blue daggers at the latest drunken idiot to leer at her. "Thanks, but no. Didn't mama ever teach you not to talk to strangers?" He grinned at her response. "Aw hon, my mama'd love ya. C'mon and let's meet her." She sighed, ignoring the wolf-whistles of his friends, tightening her dark coat around her and quickening her pace.

Her back to them, Morgan didn't see the group's expressions change, or the way they nodded at each other to follow. She froze at the footsteps behind her for a moment, then turned with a level stare. "I'm not interested. Now go away and hit on someone else. Now." The men chuckled, and the first one spoke. "Fiesty, arent'cha? Just like that face of yours. Maybe I like a challenge, babe." She heard a round of whistles and cheers, and someone say "You tell 'er, Brian!"

Brian, aparently, had gotten bolder. He caught up with her in a few strides and grabbed at her shoulders. Missed. She broke into a run, and bumped into someone. Tripped. She hit the ground on her hands and knees, wincing, trying to scramble back up and run again, when a new voice spoke up. "Aren't you going to apologize? For running into me, I mean." She looked up at the man who had said that. He was tall, and extremely thin. His face was thin and pinched-looking, with a messy head of dark hair. "I-I'm sorry for bumping into you, but I- those guys were after me" she stammered. Brian and his friends had caught up to her, and the man turned to face him, even as he was speaking to her.

"That's no excuse for a lack of common courtesy. But at least you apologized. These guys, on the other hand..." He smirked, and it sent chills down her spine. "A pack of irritating fuckers chasing a little girl. Sickening. I might just get a lot of extra material." Apparently her pursuers hadn't gotten the message, and Brian and his right-hand man stepped forward with stupid grins of their own. "You wanna fight, Freaky Dude? That's my girl, and I don't appreciate you trying to steal a piece of ass away from me." She tensed, and spat out viciously "A piece of ass? You're a freaking stalker, asshole!" Her defender's smirk had widened, just a bit. "Yes... Couldn't have said it better myself." With that, he slung a ratty-looking backpack from his shoulder and began digging inside it, almost leisurely. With a small sound of satisfaction, his face changed. It became like a mask of ice, if ice was completely crazy. His smile was thouroughly disturbing, as he pulled out a wickedly sharp knife.

"Ah, the classics..." he murmured softly, flicking his eyes to the girl he apparently defended. Morgan swallowed, unable to take her eyes off the knife. Apparently, neither could her would-be captors. The man made a swift lunging motion, and with a scream, Brian fell, clutching wildly at his throat spilling crimson. Morgan could hardly supress a scream herself. The man just laughed.

"Now, who's next?"

He stepped over the body and made way for the other men, who had finally gotten the message and started running. For being so skinny, he was truly fast. The girl could only stare, in horror, yes, but she felt glad they were dying. Hey body was shaking, blood roared in her ears, and she barely managed a soft "thank you" before sinking to the ground in a dead faint.

"My my..."

Johnny said disapprovingly. "That wasn't very smart. Well... now what do I do?" he pondered for a moment, then sighed. "Looks like it's another one for the basement. She did spill some of the blood I collected, I guess."

Balancing the now-fresh buckets of blood, he gripped the slight young woman by her waist and carried her like a sack of rice.

"Now then... Time to prepare for when she wakes up..." Footsteps could be heard, and someone whistling Ode to Joy, making its way to a certain 777...

~END~

A/N: Well... what did you think? . I'm not too terribly good with being in-character so forgive me on that... But it wasn't too torturous, was it? Reviews are love~ However, senseless flames shall be used to roast Justic Bieber posters. ... Wait no, stratch that. You people'll be flaming like mad. Let's just go with the cliche marshmallow line.