DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are the property of Marvel comics.
I know, I know, I'm brilliant. How could this not come directly from my
mind, right? Well, I like toying with others' creativity as well. The
movie The Cell is owned by New Line Cinema. The song "Dragula" is owned by
Rob Zombie.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I've been gone so long. I was sorta-kinda under restriction, but not. (Don't ask.) I'm afraid I had to get rid of the other stories I was working on, because, away from them so long, I've lost my direction for them. Sorry! But this one just jumped out at me during my gnawing hours of free time, so I hope you like it.
Dig through the ditches and
Burn through the witches and
Slam in the back of my
Dragula
The music reverberated throughout the club through a subwoofer, and hundreds of intoxicated bodies swayed to its thick bass. A tall, black woman of twenty-six years stepped into the 14,000 square-foot first floor, somewhat resembling a Matrix character in black leather pants, a full- length, silver tube-top, and a black trench coat. Her crystal blue eyes surveyed the surrounding turmoil cautiously.
Her target would stay in the dark corners of the room, his only hope of hiding his 7-foot frame from her keen eyes. A serial killer with inch-long fangs, the musculature of a body-builder, and long, blonde hair, it was amazing he blended so well with any backdrop other than an African plain. She also kept close to the wall, not comfortable with the possibility of turning her back to him.
Dead, I am the rat
Fest upon the cat
Tender is the fur
Dying as you purr
As the last note pulsated in a turntable trick, the neon lights overhead went out, coaxing a cheer from the crowd. Bright colors were replaced by mind-bending strobe lights. Convinced her jet-white hair gave her away like a beacon, she tried to crouch low in the throng of people around her.
Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches and
Slam in the back of my
Dragula
As the last white flash flickered away, she saw two small spheres in the distance, amber reflections of the light that she knew to be the killer's cat-like eyes.
Dead, I am the dog
Hound of hell you cry
Another white flash, and he realized that she'd found him. He took a single step forward, suddenly on the offensive, and she tried to bravely hold her ground without putting herself in immediate danger. Once again, the room blackened, and she awaited the next flash.
Devil on your back
I can never die
Another white light shone, and she saw a broad chest under a tight tank top directly before her. She almost gasped, but diligently contained herself, and when he grabbed for her neck, she swiftly sidestepped his arm. Rounding him in a 180-degree pivot, she performed a high-kick to the spine between his shoulders. The man bent forward slightly from the impact, and she took advantage of the tiny diversion to run at top speed to the second floor.
I can never die
Just as she bound up the last step, the murderer acrobatically flung his body over the railing beside her. She sent a catastrophic punch straight to his upper abs, only to hurt her own hand.
I can never die
He hadn't even tried to stop her fist, as if to mock her, but she was determined to beat Goliath where he excelled, in his physical strength. Still, as soon as she had swung, she regretted her resolve.
I can never die
He grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her close to him, and tickling the skin of her neck, he coolly whispered, "I can never die."
Suddenly, the entire room was flooded with blinding light, and the hologram holding her disseminated into the air. She turned to find herself in the Danger Room, a brown-haired man walking briskly up to her, his eyes vexed behind a ruby-quartz visor.
"Ororo," he commanded, "we have a-a guest in the Medlab." As she followed her companion, Ororo Munroe wondered what could make the fearless leader of the X-Men stammer.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I've been gone so long. I was sorta-kinda under restriction, but not. (Don't ask.) I'm afraid I had to get rid of the other stories I was working on, because, away from them so long, I've lost my direction for them. Sorry! But this one just jumped out at me during my gnawing hours of free time, so I hope you like it.
Dig through the ditches and
Burn through the witches and
Slam in the back of my
Dragula
The music reverberated throughout the club through a subwoofer, and hundreds of intoxicated bodies swayed to its thick bass. A tall, black woman of twenty-six years stepped into the 14,000 square-foot first floor, somewhat resembling a Matrix character in black leather pants, a full- length, silver tube-top, and a black trench coat. Her crystal blue eyes surveyed the surrounding turmoil cautiously.
Her target would stay in the dark corners of the room, his only hope of hiding his 7-foot frame from her keen eyes. A serial killer with inch-long fangs, the musculature of a body-builder, and long, blonde hair, it was amazing he blended so well with any backdrop other than an African plain. She also kept close to the wall, not comfortable with the possibility of turning her back to him.
Dead, I am the rat
Fest upon the cat
Tender is the fur
Dying as you purr
As the last note pulsated in a turntable trick, the neon lights overhead went out, coaxing a cheer from the crowd. Bright colors were replaced by mind-bending strobe lights. Convinced her jet-white hair gave her away like a beacon, she tried to crouch low in the throng of people around her.
Dig through the ditches
Burn through the witches and
Slam in the back of my
Dragula
As the last white flash flickered away, she saw two small spheres in the distance, amber reflections of the light that she knew to be the killer's cat-like eyes.
Dead, I am the dog
Hound of hell you cry
Another white flash, and he realized that she'd found him. He took a single step forward, suddenly on the offensive, and she tried to bravely hold her ground without putting herself in immediate danger. Once again, the room blackened, and she awaited the next flash.
Devil on your back
I can never die
Another white light shone, and she saw a broad chest under a tight tank top directly before her. She almost gasped, but diligently contained herself, and when he grabbed for her neck, she swiftly sidestepped his arm. Rounding him in a 180-degree pivot, she performed a high-kick to the spine between his shoulders. The man bent forward slightly from the impact, and she took advantage of the tiny diversion to run at top speed to the second floor.
I can never die
Just as she bound up the last step, the murderer acrobatically flung his body over the railing beside her. She sent a catastrophic punch straight to his upper abs, only to hurt her own hand.
I can never die
He hadn't even tried to stop her fist, as if to mock her, but she was determined to beat Goliath where he excelled, in his physical strength. Still, as soon as she had swung, she regretted her resolve.
I can never die
He grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her close to him, and tickling the skin of her neck, he coolly whispered, "I can never die."
Suddenly, the entire room was flooded with blinding light, and the hologram holding her disseminated into the air. She turned to find herself in the Danger Room, a brown-haired man walking briskly up to her, his eyes vexed behind a ruby-quartz visor.
"Ororo," he commanded, "we have a-a guest in the Medlab." As she followed her companion, Ororo Munroe wondered what could make the fearless leader of the X-Men stammer.