Well… This is LS, and I apologize for the inactivity. Lately, I've been stricken with an illness in which I have NO IDEA where it came from, and I've been in bed coughing my lungs and some blood out. It's gotten better, but my writer's block that came from it has not. I honestly need time to think about my other story, Finn the Disturbed. Besides that, I need to get back into the groove of writing, so I'm here to present this story.

I apologize if my 'voice' is different in this story. I'm groggy and somewhat depressed, so it may filter in as a cold, stricter, moderately sarcastic one. I tried putting in humor… Anyone read basic 1337-5P34K?

Remember, I do not own anything but the sleeping bag I sit in while writing, and the laptop I use to write. Everything else belongs to my wallet, landlord, and its' respective owners.

Without further ado, I reinitiate my writing with this work.

Razor.

-0-

'Prove your existence, she says…'

SHLICK

'You're worth a lot to me.'

SHLICK

'I care…'

SHLLLIIIIICK

The blood was flowing freely now. It pooled at his feet, his hands hanging outwards, pointed at the floor. There were several gill-like sections of his arms now. They bled his precious ichor, his soul. The pain seared him. He was gasping for breath mentally, but his face was set in stone. Beside him was the razor that he held to cut. Cut. Cut.

It was covered in blood, old blood mingling with dry crust on the table; dirty and devoid of everything but a tattered picture, beer stains, and a wrist watch. The picture was faded, dirty, and of all things, was of HER and him together. It was post-dig, when everyone battened down the hatches and left themselves fucking trapped in hell.

He couldn't take it. He lost her to this hell. He was trapped here alone. His first love left him for her work. His second love, her… She was gone… his third love? She was… she was unstable, so to speak. They got rid of her somehow.

They drowned her; of course. That would leave untouched meat to eat. Food was scarce here. No one had the GOODAMNED FUCKING COMMON SENSE to build a farming module. No, it was all about corporation and fucking desk jobs. Yeah, that worked. Nowadays, those cubicles are the havens for sluts and hookers all over the place. He should know. He met her there, desperate for a few crowns to spend.

Looking to his left, he saw a clunky old fridge that he found in some dead drunkard's house. Throwing it open, he found what he was looking for inside; a cold bottle of mead. It opened with a satisfactory shhk sound, and he was quick to guzzle down the fire water. It stung him. It made his eyes water. A teenager should not be drinking alcohol in this age. There was work to be done.

To hell with that.

Taking another bottle, he guzzled again, feeling the alcohol rush to his head, leaving him in his mind's cold embrace. He would rest, but not without his share of torture from the depths that was the abyssal plane of his mind…

-0-

"BITCH! GET BACK HERE!"

It was annoying… The cubicles stunk of sex, alcohol, and marijuana, shaking as people fucked like rabbits from within. Moans, grunts, curses, and slaps filled the air. I hated this place, but I was angry. Upset. I felt betrayed.

My name is Finn, designation 40V3N7UR3-71M3. Absurdly long, but that's what one has to settle with when people have been living in hell for the past 50 years. I'm blonde, with blackish-brown eyes, and pale skin; courtesy of living underground. I am a fighter, combating the rowdier folk down in the newly-dug areas, and I make about 5 crowns per kill, 2 per incapacitation. I'm fairly rich, being that I have a weapon that I was trained to use, while everyone else fights with whatever shit they could find.

I have… had a few friends, like Jake, my ADHD-riddled neighbor, nice guy; and Bonny, the resident mad scientist with ideas on everything from curing the wildfire spread of syphillies (The unholy spawn of syphilis and herpes,) to growing food off of dead bodies… And then subsequently reanimating the person to harvest themself. She was cute, and I wanted to ask her to dinner sometime…

Turns out that she wasn't up for a relationship, and I was left outside of the lab, waiting for the next tram to catch and give me a ride home. To be honest though, I was terribly upset, and that's when I found myself walking towards the slut-boxes; cubicles where men paid poor girls for sex, and shoved themselves into whatever pairs of legs were free and spread. I'd been conceived of a paid girl, and she lived happily ever after with my dad until he was killed and she was kept as a sex slave until she died drowning in semen.

No joke.

Anyways, here I am, wandering around. Some cubicles were wide open, and I saw some fairly attractive girls taking it pretty rough, faces cringing as men that could be their grandfathers ravished their youth, slobbering all over them for the promise of cash. I saw a cute red-head with a spiky mop of hair run through the place, a man screaming at her to give her the money he was paying her for sex back, and smiled. Smart girl. Money is everything. Crowns are for the kings.

Continuing my search for an empty cubicle, I ventured further back, and eventually found a boarded-up cubicle, one that read "NO SLUT OR HOOKER HERE, FUCK SOMEONE ELSE." My curiosity was piqued, and I found myself tearing through a few boards to reach the inside. It was messy work, looking out for nails and other nasty things, but when I made my way through, the sight that lay before me was shocking.

There was a girl, not much older looking than I was, slouched against the wall, one knee bent and the other out, laying there, a bottle of booze (red wine at that,) in one hand, and her other hand between her legs. She had the palest skin I had ever seen, and, for the love of god, she was CLEAN looking, unlike everyone else here; myself included. She had flowing, silky-looking black hair, and a wistful look on her face. She wore only a tank-top, black, and a pair of somewhat torn jeans. She had a red guitar beside her, looking like it was in good condition, while an amp was right beside it. Her body caught my eye, one of a much older girl, like she was 20-some, not 17. Her curves were nicely accented, but… god, she was thin. Not unhealthy, but thin as in no parasites or unhealthy shit bloating her.

She looks my way with a lazy turn of her head, silent. Her eyes bore into me, judging my character. Her mouth is subtle, her nose gently pointed, while her eyes were somewhat sharpened, yet not enough to look Asian. Her cheekbones are somewhat higher than an average girl's and she wasn't bony. Her lips… they curve into the gentlest of a smile, and she urges me to close the hole I made and take a seat beside her, holding out the wine.

At least she was friendly.

Cautious of her, as I was taught to be towards women of beauty, I sat down meekly, inhaling her scent. Strawberry. She looked at me with expectant eyes, and I took the bottle. I took a swig, savoring the gentle strawberry taste of the rim which gleamed of lip gloss. The bittersweet wine was soothing to my mind, and it was almost as if I could feel her lips on mine. Of course, that was my imagination, but, to my surprise, the girl placed her forehead against mine and listened for a moment.

She backed away with satisfaction and took a swig of the wine. I turned red lightly, the feeling of her breath still lingering on me, tickling me. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't aroused by this turn of events, and to be honest, I wonder if this girl was a virgin, like me. If she was, that would be great. If she wasn't… that would be awkward for my mind. She looks at me with innocent eyes though, and I hear her speaking.

"You're not sick. Good."

It was short. Sweet. Her voice flowed smoothly, albeit somewhat slow- like honey or syrup. Her voice was low in an arousing way, not manly, and it hinted to a lusty tone under her calm demeanor. I loved the sound of it, and was dumbfounded slightly. Stupefied. Entranced.

As soon as the feeling passed, I yearned to hear her speaking some more. I asked, "Sick?" wanting to know what she was talking about, and to hear that voice… She narrowed her eyes slightly, but I could bet that she could smell my pheromones related to mating and attraction trying to grab her attention already. So you know, we have heightened senses now. Her smile broadened exponentially when she figured out what I was up to.

"I just mean sick in general…" She started, my head feeling lighter already, "The flu, syphillies, any shit like that."

"I… see…" I drunkenly reply. She smiles again. My head is going blank. There's a weird aura to this girl.

Watching as she carefully takes her guitar, turning on her amp, I feel the sound of the outside fading away, like this cubicle was in its' own world, just this girl and I. Paradise, somehow…

"I think we can be friends…" She says, slowly strumming her guitar to a slow, sad tune… or wait… it sounded… happy and sad, almost like it was mocking both.

"I… I do too!" I say somewhat louder than I thought I should.

The girl giggles a bit, and plays a chord on her guitar gently. She hands me a bottle of wine from under the table, popping the cork out with her hand somehow. She smiles so sweetly that I feel my heart skip a beat. I take a swig.

She starts to play a slow song.

A minute in, she begins to sing, an angelic voice that overtakes my mind and corrupts it.

It felt good. I felt my troubles leave me. I felt my guilt, my regrets, my fears depart to parts unknown.

All that was left was the girl in front of me, Marceline. She somehow… told me, without saying it.

She… She…

I don't even know anymore… I just let myself go… Fall into her dark embrace, so sweet and caring for such a stranger.

-0-

I wake up with a jolt. It was a strange dream, looking back on it…

My first meeting with my sweet Marceline, who lay beside me peacefully; snoring just loud enough so that if I strained my ears, I could hear it. She was in the nude, as was I. It was a long night, so to speak.

It had been a year since we met; short for you, but long for people that only lived to 25 years on average. We were both 18 now. We had gone through our share of emotional, physical, and spiritual turmoil. I found that Marceline was a believer in reincarnation; and somewhat a believer in Buddhism. I was fine with that, but others weren't. The New Catholic Order here pretty much forbade people from having ANY other religion, atheism included, and that was a problem. Buddhist meetings were frequently held in the fear of being busted, and I was usually the guard and bouncer to these events. Marceline appreciated my efforts.

About a week after meeting, I had begun visiting her every day. She was always happy to see me, always hypnotic. She would play a different, unique song every day. I was bound to her. Our fates were entwined… connected… bound forever. I… I was falling in love so quickly… I didn't realize until I kissed her one day.

After that, I was constantly with her. My job let me take a long vacation every year; now was the time to be with her, even through the dark underground nights. We would sleep beside each other, sometimes cuddling in the cold. We grew used to the close contact, but our romance didn't commence then.

It took a month before Marceline finally asked if she could move into my small apartment module. I was giddy and agreed right away, happy to see our relationship was progressing. She was quick too, only having to move her guitar, amp, wine, and some clothes. She was quicker to get used to sleeping pressed against me on my tiny cot too.

I was never happier.

Every night we would snuggle together and I would hold her tightly. Her thin frame would hold onto mine with almost the same strength. Every night we would lie awake, talking, thinking about our future. Dinners were fun with her, and it turned out she was a VERY capable fighter. We became the richest pair of fighters out there, moving into a larger, but still poor, room. We began to eat out every day, savoring the food that only the dainty higher class could enjoy with our funds.

This continued for a long time, and nothing changed the day she confessed her secret to me.

The day was still vivid…

"Finn…" She whispered, tugging on my shoulder as we shut the door. She seemed worried.

"Marcie? What do you need?" I reply. She looks even more nervous than before.

She quickly explains that she wants me to see something, and she told me that there was a certain aspect to her that I needed to know of. I agreed to see it, fearing slightly.

She slowly unbuttoned her new black polo, and let it fall to the floor, and I was shocked to see she was wearing no bra. What caught my attention, however was, because her back was turned, I could see a wing-like design in black on her back. It ebbed from her spine in spindly, web-like shapes, feathering outwards. It was a massive design, and it seemed… Alive.

I ran my hand over it a couple of times, feeling the leathery texture, aroused by the shivers that I felt under my hands. Marceline explained that she was infected with… Something. It wasn't a disease, but rather, it was something that changed the way her body worked. She told me that she knew that I was under some strange hypnosis, and feared I would hate her after learning that she was manipulating me against her will.

Instead, I embraced her, hearing her heart beating. I… I couldn't stop myself. I kissed her tenderly, even though she was the one that wanted to present something of significance to me, and found myself caressing her body, stimulating her with my hands, invading her. We… we slept together that very night, our heartbeats in sync.

After that, we agreed that she was indeed something like a vampire, someone that would walk the earth for years to come after I had passed on and left her behind. I felt bile rise in my throat as my guilt mounted, but she stopped me with a kiss; sweet to the taste.

After that, we talked about her past. How she was born on the surface as a scavenger, and then somehow ended up down here. She was nearly raped by a man, but instead, someone with a sword came to her aid. In exchange, however, he wanted some of her blood. She agreed quickly enough, and allowed him to feed.

It was then that she was turned into a vampire, and she began her immortal walk. She made many friends on the road, solely girls, and she still felt the sting as she watched them die off in front of her, leaving her alone. She knew that she would live like this since the start. It was her burden.

She cried when she described her first love, a man that captured her heart, but instead wanted her for the sex and the status of having such a flower in hand. She… she told me of how she gave him everything short of her body, how she gave in to criminal work to please him, to keep him in love with her.

It sickened me when she told me of how he forced himself onto her one day, telling her that, if she loved him, she would give in. She gave in. Almost.

As soon as he tried to penetrate her though, she felt her senses kick in; this was not the man to take her. She ran as far as she could, but could not escape his influence. She had to kill the man in the end, and she still cried afterwards. She was still in love, even though her instincts screamed now.

I curse that dead man for the suffering that he caused my love.

I still do, really.

I feel Marceline stir beside me. Her eyes are droopy at first, and she's half-asleep, greeting me with gibberish at first. I found it cute, and her hair was a mess too. Her eyes quickly gain focus, and she reaches up to give me a morning kiss. She was clearly sore from last night, moving with caution, and I laugh somewhat. She pouts, but otherwise smiles.

We go through our routine, but I'm stopped cold with what greets us at the door.

Six armed men with rifles, full armor, and one man dressed in priest's robes.

The NCO. They were here, and I could see this wasn't a normal priest. His cross was silver, and he had a revolver. His face was adorned with tattoos. He was emanating an evil aura. There was a stake in his other hand.

By god. Vampire hunting. The Church was hunting vampires now.

I quickly turn and try to run with Marceline, but a pair of NCO appear from the other door, blocking us. The priest addresses us happily, and tells me that if I turned Marceline in, I would get a healthy wealth of crowns. I refused, and readied my sword, but… It… It was useless.

The man was quick, like a flash, and he had the stake to my throat. He pointed the revolver at a terrified Marceline, telling her to follow. She could only comply as the man drew blood from me. I watched as she left, and I swear, I swear she was more terrified than she ever was in her life, except… of what? These guys weren't going to hurt me, or her, for the time being…

I would find out a week later. They had vampires of all ages stripped of their tops, and they brandished their 'wings.' They whipped each one of them hundreds of time, and I saw tears flowing from Marceline's eyes. She was shaking with fear. She begged them to stop, not for her, but for 'him,' whom I assume was me. They were all facing away from the crowd, so she couldn't know I was here.

Soon enough, they brought the vampires over to a deep pit of water, letting them see the crowd. I stood at the front with a face set with rage and helplessness, and Marceline screamed towards me, calling for me. As they began chaining concrete blocks to the feet of the vampires and throwing them into the pit, I felt rage build in my gut. Already, people were leaping into the water to try and save their friends, family, and loved ones. NCO soldiers were taking potshots into the water, and some dead bodies began to float to the top of the pit.

A riot was forming, but were helpless against the guns. People watched in desperation.

Suddenly, a guard unhooked Marceline and led her to the gangplank. She was screaming, begging. She was crying more than ever, the tears staining her face, her eyes bloodshot. All of a sudden, my blood goes cold. She points at me, and I hear something that takes all of my self control not to despair to.

"He's the one! He's the father!" She cries, "Please! It's our child! Please!"

The soldier paid no heed, but I felt my blood freeze.

She was carrying my child. That was the first thing that went into my mind. The second one was the sound of the gangplank shuddering. A scream. My blood suddenly boiling. My mind going blank as the soldier claps his hands together and praises god that he was allowed to kill a vampire.

That fucker.

That fucking bastard.

I'll set this riot off alright. Here's a rock. People are watching. They stare at me, my face etched with rage. I take the rock. I throw it as hard as I can at the fucker, and laugh like a madman as I see his skull cave in.

"COME AT ME, YOU FUCKERS!" I scream, "THIS IS FOR MY WIFE AND CHILD!"

That started the riot. My small, white lie and wish set this off. People were screaming to their gods how the NCO was inhuman and devilish. They were out for blood, but the NCO had cordoned off the pit. They were in phalanx, guns up. We all ran though, ignoring them. I see the girl with spiky red hair give me a sympathetic look before crashing into a guard and beating him to a pulp. Crazy coincidence seeing her here.

I reach my guard, slamming into him with my sword, slicing into him, roaring with bloodlust. I see his eyes wide with terror at the demon I've become, and I care little as I eviscerate him, killing him instantly. Attention is turned to me, and it was the NCO's biggest mistake. The angered crowd quickly breaks through, all of us diving in as fast as possible in a frenzy of bodies and gunshots.

I swim as fast as my tired arms would take me. Marceline is down here, sinking into the blackness. I was terrified. She was pregnant. That was my dominant thought. I should be a father. Instead, now I'm trying my damnest to save her. To hell with it. I WILL do it.

I see the red-haired girl appear beside me and nod. God she was fast, and she quickly descends, moving at an inhuman speed. I push harder as I see people recover unconscious vampires, swimming upwards, all of them bloodied to some extent. I was terrified. The guy that went in after Marceline was out cold already. He was being carried up by three people with lips turning blue, and I felt myself push harder to get to Marceline. This was life or death… Please… Please be okay.

The darkness swiftly envelops me, and my vision is failing in it. My head is so light now, and I swear I need to push myself harder. I keep going, already seeing some people floating up, out cold. They had mortified faces, like they couldn't save their loved ones and friends. I will NOT be one of them. I will keep… going?

I see red, and, by GOD, it's the red-haired girl again. She… She had Marceline! Holy… Holy CRAP!

I quickly swim to her and take Marceline. She nods at me again, and, in a move I have no idea about, she pushes her lips against mine, and gives me what air she had left, nodding before passing out. I feel a pang of guilt. When I get back to the surface, I'll make sure she stays alive. I had a debt to pay back.

I move faster than I thought I could, and I reach the light fast. I see red water higher and avert my eyes. This was the blood of the innocents in the water. It made me cold, and I saw the red haired girl in the mess. I push fast, and finally break the surface. There was a problem though. There was nervous chatter, and then I see it.

The NCO took power again. They were all trained on me, and Marceline by extension.

Shit.

NO.

SHIT.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US!"

They pay no heed, and I feel my pulse slowing. I feel my life flashing before me, short, but accented with Marceline, my love. She and our child feel light in my arms. Tears fill my eyes as I hold Marceline tight, brushing hair from her face. I idly notice the red-haired girl swam to shore and was lying on her back breathing heavily. Marceline was barely breathing. She opened her eyes and smiled sadly.

She must have figured out the situation. I was frozen. My heart stopped. So this is what a heart attack is… I feel… weird… Like I was punched. A scream rang out. I look down and feel warmth.

Oh shit. That… That was me getting shot… Marceline gives me a sadder smile, kisses me quickly, and tells her that she'll take care of our child. She was slipping away, my arms tiring out.

No.

This…

It can't end like this!

NO!

MARCELINE!

NO!

-0-

I wake with another jolt. I had passed out from drinking my mead.

That was a terrible memory.

Marceline… Oh god…

I feel the tears come again. I feel them flowing again. I feel it all over again. My wife and child… No… Damnit…

I get up. My wounds from last night are healed. I'm fine now.

Time to go to… to work…

I have to get her words out of my head... I'll go nuts otherwise.

-0-

Every cut is an adventure, you see Marcie? That's why I cut myself! I get hurt a lot fighting monsters with Jake too, so when I get hurt, I think of a new day!

Marcie, I finally saw you in one of my visions! You kissed me on the cheek!

I'm completely covered in injuries now… They don't bother me… We're together in my… visions.

Each injury is a day… I'm happy to be hurt now, Marcie… I'm with you…

Hey Marcie, I got a pretty bad cut here. Fighting your dad in that delusion was fun though.

Marcie, I fought_

Marcie, _

Hey, today_

Marceline… I…

I'm completely battered.

I want to be with you, and the only way I can do that… I can only do that by imagining my new world. The one I'm shaping with my delusions for when we're reborn… I don't think that that's a valid Buddhist belief, being reborn into a chosen world, but to hell with it.

I'm in terrible shape though… I've come up with three years worth of the world so far… So many injuries… So little time…

I'll be with you two soon, Marcie, Pen. Every day's going to be an adventure…

Adventure Time for all of us…

~0~

That's it folks. My hastily done work is finished! I hope that you enjoyed it, and that the emotions are conveyed well… You have to tell me though, since, honest to god, I don't feel a thing while writing, so I dunno if it's good.

A few things:

If you didn't realize, the third love, and the red-haired girl are Flame Princess, who might get her own depressing story :D

Also, if the ending was muddled for you, I was trying to say that, because Finn gets hurt so much, he likes imagining each injury being caused by living in the TV canon Adventure Time world, and he's been hurt so much he's dying and has a few years worth of living with them in the world when they're reincarnated. Hope that solves things!

My next story is going to be another oneshot to build interest, and it's set in a VICTORIAN style! Gotta love 18th century class

Ja ne! (That's my wapanese impression, don't hate me)

~Lunar-Sickness