Disclaimer: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and its characters are copyright Jhonen Vasquez. The Original Characters in this story are mine, not yours. Enjoi.
Continuing on, here marches Mort, a man on a mission against overwhelming odds. He is kept at wits end as the echoes of distant yet constantly reminding chainsaw are heard wherever he goes. Minions leap out from every corner they can fit into and just barely lurk outside his vision. Mort stumbled through the darkness over objects obscured by the irradiate light of his goggles and the clashing textures on the walls. Ruined portraits and vigils lie everywhere in this desecrated cathedral. The Mad Preacher and his Congregation are on the attack of the Mortician.
"Come on!" Mort shouted. He grabbed a scrawny minion by the throat, threw him to the ground and squeezed until he heard a crack. Then he stomped hard on the man's face and twisted while another one charge him with bladed hands. Mort wound up his shovel like bat and took a nasty, jaw-breaking swing that sent the man tumbling away. Now, with a scream and a gas-fueled roar, came one of the apparitions Mort dreaded the most. Coming from another adjoining room by tearing a hole through the wall was a crazed man in priest's robes wearing a bloody sack over his head with holes for his bulging eyes. He wielded a chainsaw.
"Fuck" Mort cursed. He swallowed his fear, kicked away the corpse he stood on and prepared his polearm for battle. The chainsaw man screamed incoherently, pumped his arms above his head with chainsaw wielded to intimidate, then lurched quickly forward with his head madly twitching. Mort didn't want him to get to close or to be able to swing that deadly weapon, so his first intention was to disable him by jabbing at his arm. He made a quick thrust and the man swung at his shovel. Mort backed away and repeated into the other arm which the man had more trouble reaching. Then Mort pumped his shovel forward, stopping it far short of his enemy's reach, and let his swing in vain. Then he made a hack at his shoulder and disabled the arm that held the main handle of the weapon.
"You're fucked" Mort growled. He raised his shovel up, took a powerful step forward and smashed it square onto the man's head. He stumbled in a daze to the floor. Mort decided to use force against him, took his own chainsaw, and hacked his head from his body. Then, in a fit of uncouth rage, he started chopping randomly at the corpse to get it into as many pieces as possible. His trench coat was splattered with blood and his pants from the shins down were soaked. "RAAAAHHH!!!" Mort bellowed. "Come on! Any of you fucking fuckers wanna get fucked!? I'm right fuckin' here!"
"Quit swearing!" a random minion shouted in an elitist voice.
"You're right" Mort said, "I apologize. That was a bit much." The minion in question came skittering across the wide floor to stab at Mort's seemingly unguarded back, but got a cruel face-full of metal shovel. He dropped to the ground and Mort curb-stomped him, separating his spinal cord form his brain stem and thus killing him instantly. "Still, this is getting annoying. I can still hear what sounds like plenty of chainsaws deeper within, and I know that destiny is pushing me in that direction. I'm reluctant to go, but I must." So Mort continued to follow the winds that guided him. They took him up the stair where two more villains were waiting for him. He silence one with a spade into and through the mouth, slicing his head off. The other one charged and nearly tackled Mort, but the larger black man simply picked him up and tossed him off the wall far across the room and into a metal pole below. His skull bled and the body groaned in its weak death throes while Mort moved on.
"I wonder" Mort asked himself, "what kind of fiend awaits me at the end of this maze. Moreover, I wonder what sins this man has committed that would send Heaven and Hell against him with such fierce force besides the obvious. Hell would more than tolerate some simplistic murders and brainwashing schemes, I'm sure."
"The world weeps for the damned" a mysterious voice said. Mort looked in its direction, unaware at the present of his surroundings. The winds of fate had brought him to the central balcony and stopped at the edge of the railing. A floor and a half below was a near infinite arrangement of pews that led up to a huge and magnificent ruined alter and cross. Atop that cross, standing in the carved hole in the wall, was a man dressed all in white from toe to six-foot-something head. Mort couldn't help but characterize his garb with that of a Klu Klux Klan member, for whatever reason. "I am the pastor here, John Gore, or as you know me out in the filthy world 'the Ripper!"
"Nice to meet you at last" Mort said. He quickly sheathed his shovel and pulled out his gun in the same, fluid motion. "Now, farewell."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you" John protested. "You see, this church is in fact the only means of support for a new and amazing movement. If I, its sole leader, were to die, the whole world would potentially go to hell and back!"
"At least it will come back then" Mort said. He fired a shot, just one, at his target. For all he knew, it hit and the Ripper was sent back while his two minions with chainsaws revved them up and breached the doors on either side of Mort. He had few options now. "Shit" Mort cursed, deciding that as his first major decision. He sheathed his gun, took his shovel back out, and created a diversion for the maniac at his right. He dug into the floor behind him, dug out one of the chairs and tossed it to his right. Then, before the maniac realized what was happening, he stepped back to slice the chair without damaging himself.
A second well bought! Mort told himself. He rushed full-force at the other one, unprepared for a battle, and speared him with his spade. With a nasty, gnashing twist and a kick, Mort took out a scoop that comprised nearly all of the man's small and large intestines. Then, he tossed them down over the railing,s causing a temporary immortal madness that his enemy wasted by rushing over to try and catch them in vain. Mort kicked him over the edge and sent him to his death. Then the other maniac made a horrific lunge and barely missed, forcing his saw into the bronze banister and creating a flash of sparks that blinded Mort for but a moment. He forced off his goggles for just a moment, and by the light of the dim but still active cross, he could see his attacker in all his horror.
"I think NOT!" Mort said, blocking the chainsaw with the metal of his shovel. Sparks flew in every direction, but none came close to Mort's skin. Still, he struggled to hold his own against the force of a destructive chainsaw until he felt a breeze at his chest. He glanced back and saw, still revved and ready, the saw of the other maniac he had just recently disposed. Thinking quick;y, he pulled out his gun and used it to fake with just a point. His enemy retreated with the chainsaw covering his head and upper back, which gave Mort enough time to sheathe both his shovel and the gun, pick up the chainsaw, and run up behind his enemy. "BANG!" Mort shouted. His enemy turned around, now aware of the folly he had committed, and got sawed straight in half down the middle. "YEAH!" Mort shouted, looking down at his bloody new...friend with delight.
"And that's the first line-up" the DJ/announcer of the fashion show declared. "We'll be back with some smoking babes in skimpy dresses after this important word form our corporate sponsor!" Then, a skinny man in a business suit mounted the stage and began reading from a slip of paper from is breast pocket. Devi and Tenna, however, were outside laughing themselves into madness at the hilarious jokes regarding the girls weight they came up with.
"Did you see that one?" Devi said between her laughter. "She looked like a spine from the ribs down!"
"Did you see the one in leather?" Tenna replied. "Her cheeks were imploded! She looked like a fish!"
"And the Botox one" Devi pointed out. "How pathetic is it that she had to inject it as the curtains were pulling up? And then her face afterwards?"
"She looked like she had diarrhea!" Tenna added. Both girls continued to laugh uproariously, unaware of the true complexities of being a fashion deva or of the sinister murder plot unraveling behind the curtain. Yvonne was de-prepping herself, removing makeup and prop clothing for her relatively normal, 80's style street clothes complete with pink leg warmers over black tights and a wide-collared shirt with a light pink paint stain on it. Her golden hair was in a perm now with Beelzebub hiding deep within on her scalp.
I suggest you move Beelzebub instructed before she goes on. Be aware, however, that she is onto you.
I know that Yvonne said. Then again, she seems quite paranoid of nearly everyone around her. I think she may be autistic or something.
It's the fear of impending, unstoppable doom Beelzebub said. Yvonne started slowly approaching, planning a light pat on the shoulder to measure her reaction and physical skills, then she would wait it out until she could get alone with the weeping ghost girl to finish her. She knows full well that her end is fast approaching. Just be on edge when you get close. Even at this distance, my immortal mind does not trust her.
Shut the hell up Yvonne demanded. She finally let go of her fear and approached the girl. She looked in the mirror and saw that her face was still a disgusting mess of what it should be, but there was something else as well. In the far corner of the room, in a shaded nook behind a rack of clothes, Yvonne could spot another unfamiliar thing that she had not seen there before. It looked to be a mysterious figure sporting an all-concealing robe and two crescent shapes facing away from each other for a head with the portrait of a face within each. Then, panic ensued. For some odd reason, there was an explosion out front.
"Oh my gawd!" one of the showgirls shouted. Yvonne initially just ignored the chaos and kept her eyes on her target. Unfortunately, in the brief second she looked away out of curiosity, her target somehow disappeared.
"You're shitting me!" Yvonne screamed. The ghost girl was sprinting out of the back-stage entrance already and ran into the open street still all garbed up in her blue dress and leather.
"No!" she shouted in desperation.
"Hey!" Devi shouted from the street. "Hey, you're one of the models, aren't you?"
"What the hell happened?" Tenna asked as well.
"I don't know!" the girl cried with sadness. She then began just crying into her hands.
"Shit" Devi cursed. It looks like nothing goods going to come of you just staying in the open. That could have been a terrorist attack or some shit. Do you have somewhere to go?" The girl looked up with her face wet with tears and droll and shook her head. "You can come with us."
"Wait a sec, Devi" Tenna said, pulling her friend aside to whisper to her. "Doesnt this seem a little stupid? Like some ill-contrived anime plot or something?"
"You're right!" Devi whispered back. "It's like nearly every single anime ever written ever! Don't worry, I know how to test that theory." Devi turned back around and saw the poor girl was still openly weeping and biting her lip. "What's your name?"
"Angel LeVieca" she answered.
"That's a weird name" Tenna said. A sudden blast of bullets broke the group apart and Devi stumbled and fell away from the girl she tried to help. In her panic she felt her eyes sink back into her head and the cityscape suddenly flashed into the horrid dreamland wherein nothing but a single tree on a hill populated. After a flash or two the vision faded and Angel was long gone. Tenna was knocked out on a bus bench with drool coming form her mouth across the street.
"What the fuck just happened!?" Devi shouted.
This is an unanticipated development Beelzebub pointed out. Yvonne was still shaken but standing after the horrific psychological attack. She is able to freely manipulate the fluids in the brain to cause visual and auditory hallucinations based on the subconscious fears in one's mind. She can control your fear!
"That's a stupid power!" Yvonne argued. "Still, I have no real fears to speak of. I can't even remember what she did! I must have just blacked out for a second!"
Right Beelzebub agreed, although the images from the previous mission flashed just a moment before. Headless parents and siblings, all culminating to the final events of that night, but ending as she woke up. Let's stop her. She isn't running very fast. Chase her!
"Don't order me around!" Yvonne growled. She was now in pursuit of her target in the cold city night. Angel was heading for downtown...and the party crowds were just leaving...