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Disclaimer: I don't own Nny. JV does. I hope he never finds this. I know he'd want to kill me. I also don't own sailormoon. Takeuchi Naoko does. Good for her.

This particular chapter was written by Q

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In But a Dream

A Sailormoon-Johnny the Homicidal Maniac Crossover Fanfic

Chapter 18~ I scream, you scream, we all scream "FORK!"

The ice cream boy, boy because real men do not mess there pants,

shivered on the cold metal chair. Hotaru held a long, sharp, pointy,

gleaming blade in her delicately gloved hands, staring insanely at

the zity,poop-y teen.

"Wh...what is this place?!" His eyes were wide as they whirled to

look around the brittle room. The floorboards were held in place

beneath their feet by rusted screws and tarnished nails. The wood

plank walls were all but bare, save for blood spatters and crusts of

end trails painted haphazardly against them. The door was closed, the

girl in front of it.

Mr Frozen Milk Machine then regarded the girl with his beedy eyes.

She was dressed in an odd bodysuit which was accented with a pleated

skirt, and bows. Her white, shimmering gloves were caked with fresh,

as well as crusted blood. The blade however, was prestine, save for

the red handprint her palm left on the grip. The Ice Cream Man

surmised that this was, then, a new blade, and until now, unused.

"L-..Look, lady.I didn't mean what I said about him being a fag,

clearly he's not a fag if you're his girlfriend. He-..He's a very

lucky man to have a girl as lovely as you. Like an angel, really. And

he- He's a very handsom man. All the sun, and the 'POP! Goes the

weasel!' makes me a bit nuts, and I don't think stright. Would you? I

mean all the time 'POP! goes the weasel!'-....er....you..look like

you understand..."

No, no, keep talking. Maybe he could talk her out of killing him.

"He must love you. Did he get that ice cream taco for you? was it a

token of love? h- how sweet! Look, I'll let you have it for free!

I'll give you and your boyfriend all the ice cream you want!"

Hotaru slowly blinked, her vacant eyes glancing at the Ice Cream man

down, then up, a dead expression on her face.

"You...are the first."

"The....first?"

"The first of what I aim to be many. Let that knowledge make you feel

all warm and sugary inside." The young sailor suited girl tossed the

knife up in her left hand, catching it in her right. A glint found

its way on the blade's surface. Light from the still open front door.

A cruel smile sliced a path across Hotaru's face as she swiped the

blade across the boys' midriff. He was blinded by the glint, vision

filled with silver white. Senses burned with agony as he felt a

sudden lightening in his middle. A squish/thud sound echoed in his

ears and blood spattered on his uniform pant legs. In his pain, he

was unaware that he had fallen against a wall, which supported him

on his feet. Hotaru's dark violet eyes flickered down to the floor,

which was now ornamented with her victims intestines. The long,

pinkish red tubing stretched lazily from his middle, where its end

dissapeared into the well of a large cavity in his lower torso.

With ever stoic eyes on the mass of flesh at her feet, Hotaru's

dainty nostrils widened as she inhaled the fragrance of the spilled

blood. An exhale rasped from her open mouth, and she raised a hand.

She gently trapped the middle tip of her blood drenched glove between

her perfect teeth, and slowly pulled her hand from the glove. Her

delicate hand was stained red, as if she had a cruel sunburn, but the

flesh was no less soft then usual. Slowly she knelt upon her still

bleeding knee, and touched her fingertips to the lengthy organ. The

senshi of Death and rebirth meditated on the wet, warm, slimy texture

of the intestine, taking note of the rivulets of blood, of the input,

and locking it away in her mind. Her icy grin shrank into a small,

pleasent smile as she suddenly gripped his stomach. He screamed out

as Hotaru cut into the organ, reaching in with her gloved hand and

scooping out a small supply of the acidic fluids within. A simple,

girlish giggle emmited from her smiling lips as she pulled her hand

from the wet, fleshy sack, glancing at the acid in her palm ,before

she tossed the contents from her hand, to the Ice cream Man's eyes.

Johnny C. exited the ice cream truck with his holy Ice cream taco,

chewing on a garbled mass of waffer and really cold milk, punctured

by stiff chocolate and synthetic nuts. He blinked as he heard screams

in his house. Curse! He left the door open. Witnesses were bad. No

matter, it's not like he could get caught. He's tried.

Another scream from his house made him tilt his head to the side, but

all the same, 'Nny did not hurry his pace.

When the thin young man finally crested the stoop and entered the

main room, he arched a brow at the sight. The Ice cream man was

slumped against the East-most wall, legs barely supporting his

weight, (which 'Nny gathered, must be considerably lighter then

before, considering his endtrails were sculpted in a nice "Close

Encounters of the Third Kind" hill like so many mashed potatos before

it.) and his eyes were red and swollen, as if hyper-irritated. He

observed that Hotaru merely crouched at the pile of guts, licking at

her uncovered hand, which was bloody, and had the slight sheen of

mucus.

"A girl after my own heart." Johnny quipped darkly, before shutting

the door, detatching them to the outside world.