Johnny and crew (c) Jhonen and Slave Labor Graphics, 'Jack's Lament' (c) Touchstone.
This fic has a soundtrack. You've been warned. The song is from the movie, 'The Nightmare
Before Christmas', so some of you may like that. I know I love that movie. So enjoy.
-katie

Johnny sat at the television, staring at it. He was not watching. He had killed a particulary
annoying and ignorant moviegoer that night, after having heard enough about how awful the film
had been from this man that had overlooked the deeper insights of what the piece had to offer.
The usual capture, kill, hide had happened so quickly, Johnny knew that he really was too good
at it. It was all one fluid motion for him.

There are few who deny
At what I do I am the best,
For my talents are renowned
Far and wide.

The television noise cut his thoughts, and he heard the words, "-slain by criminally insane man
after a night at the movi-"
'Criminally insane, huh?' thought Johnny to himself. 'So that's what the world makes of me.'

When it comes to surprises
In the moonlit night,
I excel without ever
Even trying.

'Well, maybe I am, for all that they say,' he continued in his own mind. He continued staring at
the flickering screen of the television, where the news reporter was now talking about an
earthquake in Japan earlier that day.
"And so what if I am?" His thoughts moved to speech. "Is there anything wrong with that?" He
was encouraging himself, and he liked it. He liked having the power, for the moment, to control
his own emotions.

With the slightest little effort
Of my ghostlike charms,
I have seen grown men
Give out a shriek.
With a wave of my hand
And a well-placed moan,
I have swept the very bravest
Off their feet.

He continued to talk of how he couldn't be caught, building himself up, when suddenly he
stopped. He felt a cold chill come from deep within himself. A cruel voice whispered to him,
*Liar. You hate this life, and you know it.* Johnny squirmed at that voice. It was neither of the
Doughboys, it was not Nailbunny, it was not even Reverend Meat. It was someone new.
*Not someone new, Johnny. Someone that's simply choosing to emerge into thought.* And
Johnny knew that it was his own mind finally speaking for itself. It was not hindered by any of
the other voices, like his previous thoughts were.
*As I was thinking,* hissed the voice, *you know very well that your life sucks. Why are you
lying to yourself? Don't you hate it when others do it?*
An audible growl rang through Johnny's throat. It was his quiet and unwilling agreement.
*That's what I thought.*


Yet year after year,
It's the same old thing.
And I grow so weary of the
Sound of screams.
And I, Jack,
The Pumpkin King,
Have grown so tired of the
Same old thing.

A hot tear splashed down Johnny's cheek. He quickly wiped at it with the back of his hand. He
shuddered when his hand touched his face. It was so cold.
*It's cold from killing.*
"Shut up. That doesn't even make sense," he replied. Even he heard the crack in his own voice.

Oh, somewhere deep
Inside of these bones
An emptiness
Began to grow.
Oh, somewhere out there
Far from my home,
A longing that
I've never known.

'Do not cry, do not cry. . .' thought Johnny to himself. His own thoughts. Not the Cold Voice's.
The Voice made no reply, and Johnny took this as a cue to continue. He slipped into speech
again. "You can't trick me. I won't be your slave, you. . . you. . ."
But he never found a word. He simply stopped talking and grinned. His eyes were still fixed
unblinkingly at the screen. It was now static, but if Johnny noticed, he gave no sign.

I'm the master of light,
And a demon of fright,
And I'll scare you right
Out of your pants.

The grin broadened, calling up some of the better memories.

To a guy in Kentucky,
I'm Mister Unlucky,
And I'm known throughout
England and France.

*But don't you see-*
"Shut up. I'm busy," muttered Johnny. He continued to stare straight ahead, and called up his
more brilliant kills. Each one bubbled up in turn. Each victim that dared to bother Johnny C.
flashed through the man's mind.
"Damn, I'm amazing," said Johnny happily to himself. The Cold Voice made no reply. "Got
nothing to say now, do you?" laughed Johnny. He chuckled and tried to imagine what would
happen if anyone else tried to kill someone. They were caught. They were locked up. Forever.
Johnny cackled out loud because he knew - just *knew* - that he would never be caught.

And since I am dead,
I can take off my head,
To recite Shakespearean
Quotations.
No animal, nor man
Can scream like I can,
With the fury of my
Recitations.

Johnny stopped thinking to himself for a moment, and this gave the Cold Voice all the time it
needed to slip in.
*But you know that you're putting yourself on, right?*
Johnny's eyes had closed lazily, remembering the good memories. Now they snapped open
again. Dammit.
*One of those Doughboys, they're doing that thinking for you right now, you know,* continued
the Cold Voice. *The one that wants to see you kill as many people as you can.*
"You. . . you're wrong. . . they can't. . ."
*Wanna bet? Wow, Johnny, I'd have thought you'd know by now. Don't you remember what
they did to you?*
A picture formed in Johnny's mind. A girl. . . with green hair. . . because it had been green then.
Now it was purple. Soft purple. . . but then it was green, and that was the image in his mind.
"I didn't kill her. . . she's still alive. . ."
*But you were close. 'The one that got away,' took on a whole new meaning for you that night,
Johnny.*
Johnny kept his eyes wide open, always staring at the static on the screen. Where had the picture
gone? Where had the. . .
He realized that the image of Devi in his mind was gone.
*Because they took her away.*

But who here would
Ever understand
That the Pumpkin King,
With the skeleton grin,
Would tire of his crown?
If they only understood,
That he'd give it all up
If he only could.

Another tear streaked its way through the caked blood on Johnny's face. His mind tore through
several thoughts over and over again, mostly of what he had taken away from him (*how* could
it have been taken away from him?), and of what he was missing right now. He was missing
Devi. But it was something else, too. A word he'd heard a long time ago, in a world as real to
him as a fairy tale.

Oh, there's an empty
Place in my bones
That calls out for
Something unknown.

The television flickered back to life, and the news came back up. It was almost over. The
reporter was now saying how the criminal behind the sick crime would be apprehended, and that
all should be on the lookout for this reported maniac.

The fame and praise that
Come year after year,
Do nothing for
These empty tears.

The television went back to its own world of static, and Johnny kept staring.