A/N: And now, some filler before the new story arch begins. It's Halloween and guess who's going to take our dear little Pan tot-ing? One and Two of course! (And Sephone and Mero …) Enjoy!

Pandora the Brave (or.. Pandora the )
Chapter Halloween (or 8)

"Mon cher, s'il vous plaît, vous n'étés pas furieux contre moi. Je t'aime, mais je s'aime aussi. Elle est ma fille, et je se soucie Pandora. Vous comprendrez, non?" Persephone crooned, fussing with the Merovingian's tie. He swatted her hands away and began fussing with it himself.

"Mais 'Sephone, ça m'est égal!" he retorted, craning his neck as he straightened the unruly ­cravate. "Elle n'est pas tu fille vrais. Je ne suis pas plus important de fille a tu?"

"Elle n'est qu'une fille!"

"So?"

"Je vous aime les deux. I love you both."

"Bon," he huffed, pouting.

(And all of that en anglais… My love, please, do not be angry with my. I love you, but I love her also. She is my daughter and I must take care of Pandora. You understand, no? … I don't care. She isn't your real daughter. Am I not more important to you? … She's only a girl!)
~@~

"Open this door, dammit!" One yelled, slamming his fist onto the white wood.

"Never!" Pandora shrieked from inside.

"Don't make us come in there," One threatened.

"It doesn't matter," Pandora snapped. "You couldn't if you tried."

One motioned to Two, who quickly tried to phase through the wall, but found he could not.

"Ha! Told you!"

"Look, kid, if you don't open this door right now, we're gonna break it down and break your arm," One said.

Uh… Not really, right?

Yes, really.

"NOW PANDORA!"

"NO!"

"Keh. We're coming in." One stepped back from the door and threw himself at it. It shuddered but held fast. Pandora shrieked.

One snapped at Two, "Help us."

Together, they proceeded to break down the door. They didn't get far, however, as Pandora had placed most of her bedroom furniture in front of it. She simply sat on her bed, shrieking with her pillow on her head, covering her ears.

"We're giving you to the count of .01 to open this sodding door and get out of your bloody room before we are forced to become violent."

"Oh, like you're not violent already."

"That's it, you brat! Open this door or so help us, we'll—"

"You'll what? Tell that fat-headed frog that his pseudo-daughter won't come out of her room? He'd laugh and say, "Let he stay there," in the language of the day. Bastard that he is."

"Watch your mouth, young lady. A six-year-old should not be talking that way."

"I'm almost nine!"

"Yeah … whatever… WHAT?!"

"I'm turning nine soon. Not that you care."

"Not that we care? What the—what is wrong with you? Just open this door, dammit! Let us in!"

"No! Traitors!"

"Traitors?"

"You know exactly what I mean, One. Go away and take your wimpy brother with you."

"Wimpy?" Two yelled. "Wimpy? We'll show you wimpy you little brat. You don't know what we went through for you!" He pulled out a machine gun, popped the safety and began firing at the lock.

Pandora shrieked again, and covered her head in her pillow.

"Damn, she's like a banshee…" One muttered.

Two tossed the machine gun away, grabbed an r.a.p.d. (randomly-appearing-power-drill) from his trenchcoat, and began to attack the doorknob. Shouting over the noise he said, "Pandora. Open. This. Bleeding door. Right. Now. Or. We're. Shaving. Your head."

"No!"

"Yes!" One shouted back.

"No!"

"Yes!" the Twins shouted together.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"YES!"

Silence. They heard some strange sounds as if large pieces of furniture were being rearranged, and the lock clicking. The door slowly opened. They stepped inside, and the door instantly slammed closed, nearly smashing Two. A white blur leapt out from behind them and landed on the bed.

"Now tell us what your problem is or we're going to get ugly," One demanded.

"How could you possibly get any uglier? Your head's all weird."

Two held One back. "We promised that we wouldn't kill her today. Calm down please," he pleaded.

Hissing, One complied. Two asked, "Now tell us, please. Why have you been avoiding us?"

Pandora crossed her arms, stuck her nose in the air, and looked away.

"If you don't tell us, we're not going to be happy with you. We'll walk away and leave you alone, and we won't ever come back."

"You'd come back alright. You're just like some stupid dog."

This time One had to restrain Two. "Don't let her get under our skin, bro. She's not worthy of our talents. Don't waste our time."

"Talents? You two couldn't fight your way out of a paper—AUGH!" Pandora shrieked as the Twins pounced on her.

Persephone only happened to be walking nearby when she heard Pandora's screech, and she rushed to her room to find the Twins beating her up. "What is going on in here?" she demanded, snatching at one of their collars.

"Damn brat."

"She insulted us."

"Oh you're such big babies." Pandora smirked. "All three of you." The Twins smiled evilly. "Now, come to breakfast."

"Fine," Two mumbled, shuffling out the door.

"Fine," One muttered, trailing behind his twin.

"What.ever," Pandora huffed, stomping out after them.

Persephone smiled her motherly smile, watching her daughter follow the two down the hall, fighting with them. She had not really known them before little Pandora had come. Persephone's only interactions with them had been at the restaurant, and there she had taken them for ruthless, brainless assassins. She had taken all of her husband's body guards that way. Of course she had, she had never seen them 'off-duty.' Now she'd seen the Twins looking after a girl. She'd seen a different side of them that seemed to give them …colour, dare she say it. If they had been younger, she might have thought of them as nephews or something. And then Persephone shook her head; she was being silly. Programmed hunters did not do anything but follow orders. The snide little voice in her head scoffed. Oh, but you saw them. They asked you to help them break her out. That was certainly against orders. Persephone sighed. Her conscience was right. They were programs, true, but they could think, too. It was very confusing to her, and she simply shook her head to clear it and continued down the hall. Philosophy had only ever hurt her head.

~@~

"Gimme that," Pandora said, her mouth half full with egg.

Two reached for the jelly to pass it, but One snatched it. Holding it away from them both he said, "Now ask nicely."

"Just gimme the jelly, dammit." One's eye glinted daggers. "I mean… darn it."

"Say please."

"No. way."

"Say it."

"No."

"Fine. We'll just keep the jelly for ourself."

Two interrupted, "And what? Put it on our eggs?"

One looked down at his plate. All that was left was scrambled eggs. He had already eaten his toast. "Yes," he replied, dipping his knife into the strawberry gloop that was the jelly. He smeared some on his eggs, letting jelly slide down the yellow peppered lumps.

Two's face was a mask of disgust, but Pandora said what they were both thinking. "Oh gross," she exclaimed quietly. "You're not really going to eat that, are you?"

"Yes," he answered. "Yes we are."

"Ugh," Two muttered.

One spooned the mess of yellow and red onto his fork and shoved it in his mouth. Pandora yelped, she had not really thought that he would do it.

Persephone glanced at the end of the table. Pandora and the Twins were doing something but it must not have been too disruptive. It certainly was better than the food fight they had started months ago.

Back on their end, One was creating strange combinations of food and eating them, much to the disgust of Two, and Pandora had completely forgotten about the jelly, becoming entranced in One's antics. After a particularly nasty combination (grits and mayonnaise), Pandora began making a few of her own, putting ketchup on her strawberries. (A/N: this. is. disgusting. it has been done, don't try it. i'm warning you.) Two, who had been enjoying the safe distance from his Twin, was repulsed when his nearest neighbor, Pandora, began to imitate him. Two had been sickened by the eggs, but the grits and the strawberries were churning his insides.

"We are being revolting. Pandora, don't encourage us," he said, trying to concentrate on buttering his toast. He set it down, and while he was looking for the marmalade, One dumped a r.a.p.t.s. (randomly-appearing-package of-taco-seasoning) all over his toast. After smothering the bread in marmalade, Two took a huge bite out of the toast, sending the other two into fits of barely stifled laughter.

"What is it?" Two asked, after carefully swallowing.

"Taco seasoning," One coughed.

"WHAT?!" Two shouted, jumping to his feet. Realizing that the Merovingian had fixed his beady eye on him, Two sat down. He glared at his brother, narrowing his eyes till Pandora had thought that he was asleep.

We didn't just say the we put taco. seasoning. on our food, did we?
No. We just said taco seasoning.
We put taco seasoning on our toast?!
Maybe.
Wha-uh-hey!
Heh heh.. but only a little.
Don't we love us?!
That doesn't stop us from picking on us.
We only pick on us 'cause we can be boring.
Boring? Us? Hah! We aren't a chicken like we are.
Hey! We—

Pandora poked Two in the arm. Two looked away, not finishing his thought. "What?" he growled.

"You looked like you were sleeping. I thought that I'd wake you up."

"Fine. Just. Don't bother us right now. We're busy," Two snapped, turning back to his argument with One. He missed the fraction of a second in which Pandora looked sad. She quickly brightened, finished her strawberries (with sugar; the ketchup one was left half eaten on the side of her plate), and left. She tapped Persephone on the arm and asked to be excused.

"Of course, dear. Do what you like."

"I need a key, though."

"There's one in my purse."

"Is that under your chair?"

"Yes, yes. Please, honey, mommy's talking."

Pandora muttered darkly, as she pulled a key out of the purse, "Yeah. Whatever. Traitor."
~@~
Back in her room, Pandora played absently with her dolls, thinking dark thoughts. She felt as if nobody loved her, as if nobody cared about her, and worse, that they all hated her. Which she didn't realize was impossible. But she didn't realize that, and she sat on her bedroom floor, playing with her dolls, and thinking depressing things. She didn't know that on the other side of the house, One, Two, and Persephone were plotting.
~@~

"She said soon," Two said, "But she didn't say when."

"Alright. Well, we'll just have to be ready," Pandora shrugged.

"Yes. And it's almost Halloween," One pointed out.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no. There is no way the Merovingian will let me take her trick-or-treating," Persephone moaned.

"What?"

"Trick.or.treat.ing?

"Yes, of course! The children dress up in costumes and go door to door and get candy! Older kids go, too, but they go out usually to scare the little ones."

"WE'LL TAKE HER!!" both Twins shouted at once, a single burst of joy passing between them.

Candy… thought Two.

Frightening little children… One snickered mentally.

"Boys," Persephone cautioned, "I don't know what you're thinking, but it scares me. Just, when you go buy your costumes, please, don't forget to get her one, too, okay? And check out the party decorations, as well. We need to find some good ones."

The Twins weren't really listening, and they bounded out the door so gleefully that Persephone was worried, but only for a moment. They acted the same way when they were sent on particularly difficult or dangerous assignments, or when they were going out for weapons. Persephone could only hope that they dressed… decently. Ooze monsters would certainly not go over well in a neighborhood filled with little children.
~@~

The Twins cruised up to the party supply store, parking deftly in a handicapped place. If anyone cared to threaten them, they would deal with severe pain—er, consequences. Once inside, they each grabbed a basket and moved along the aisles, dropping all sorts of random items into their carts. The Twins had a unique way of shopping: put everything you think you like into your cart and then sort through it at the end. It was a real nuisance to store clerks, but it worked for them. After collecting a fair amount of party decorations, they moved to the Halloween section, scanning always for the perfect costume. They split up, Two moving down the children's aisle, One taking to the horror aisle.
~@~

One sighed heavily. There was not a single decent costume in the store. The latex just wasn't real enough. Well, there was the one truly gruesome costume he had found, but it was black. Black was just so… cliché. As he turned to search out his brother, he saw it. The Special Edition Deluxe Mad Scientist. It was perfect. Bulging eyes, frothing chemicals, bloody cuts, and best of all, a white lab coat. Laughing like a deranged man, he picked it up, the only package, and strolled away, all too pleased with himself, to find Two.
~@~

There were pirates and mermaids, princesses and knights, Disney characters and classic monsters, cowboys and Indians, flappers and ballerinas, but nothing that Two could see little Pandora wearing. He had seen witches and ghouls, vampires and demons, faeries and angels, swap monsters and snake women. Frustrated, he spun on his heel and decided to find a costume for himself, and there before him, surrounded in the white light of heaven stood: the Deluxe Voodoo Shaman! And then, like divine providence, a thought struck his mind; they could go as a shaman, a zombie, and a voodoo doll. The doll would of course be Pandora, and One, Two decided, could be the shaman. He snatched the costume off the wall and stalked away to find his brother.
~@~

Well, what do we think?

That costume…

Two waited silently for him to continue.
Is so awesome!
Two sighed with relief.
Although… it's not white.
So?
So… well… We suppose…
One pulled out the headdress. He looked it over and placed it experimentally on his head.
No… we'd look better in it. We want to be the zombie!

Alright… we'll let us be the zombie…

Let us? We are the eldest, therefore we can't 'let us' do anything!

Sorry… we just wanted to be the zombie.

No way! We want to be the zombie, we can scare more little children!

Alright, alright… Two relented. He had wanted to be the zombie, but he decided to let his brother be the gruesome ghoul.
~@~

They left the party supply store with black hair spray, several colors of body paint, the Deluxe Voodoo Shaman costume, six or so bottles of fake blood, four giant pins, fake skin pieces, glue, and some birthday decorations. When they returned to the chateau, they turned the decorations over to Persephone, and began to prepare a zombie costume for One.

~@~

"What's a voodoo doll?" Pandora asked. "What's 'halloween'?"

"Uh…" Two began. He was trying to think of a way to explain it, and, failing, he asked, "Us, how would we explain this?"

"Sure whatever, take the car," One replied, entranced in his Gameboy Advance.

"Us?"

"Wha-at?" One said, turning as the screen flashed 'Game Over.'

"What were we doing? We didn't ask for the car," Two said, half-confused.

One answered, "Oh yeah… that. We.uh. Nevermind. What did we ask us?"

Pandora asked, "What's a voodoo doll? And what's 'halloween'?"

Two answered the first question, having given up on his brother and turning to his trusty pocket dictionary. "Voodoo doll. Noun. A doll used in voodoo rituals, believed by to have magickal power over another person that make things happen to him or her, such as headaches, broken bones, etc, and is controlled by sticking pins into different parts of the dolls body."

"Okay… Whatever. But what's 'halloween'?"

"OH!" cried One. "Halloween is awesome! You dress up, go door-to-door, get candy, and scare the pants off little kids!! It's called Trick-or-Treating. If the people don't give you candy, you get to play a trick on them."

"Cool," Pandora exclaimed. "What's it like? Have you ever done it before?"

One's face fell slightly, and he mumbled, "Not really…"

"Wonderful! We can do it for the first time together!"

There was a pause, as the three sat, happily saying nothing, Two thinking of candy, One thinking of monsters, and Pandora thinking of both. Finally, she broke the silence, "Where are we gonna Trick-or-Treat? There're no other houses around here."

~@~

"Alright, we're gonna use this key to get to a neighborhood with candy," Two declared. The three were sitting in the living room, with a game running on the huge plasma screen. Two had just returned from a short meeting with Persephone, who had given him the key.

Pandora looked it over, curious. "How is that gonna get us there?"

"It goes to a shed," One answered. "We come out of the shed, go Trick-or-Treating, and use the house key to come home."

"Okay, cool," Pandora said, returning to her stitching.

"Really, what are you doing?" Two asked.

"I'm making a doll."

"A voodoo doll?" One asked, curious.

"Yeah," Pandora replied. It was very rudimentary; made from scrap cloth and shaped like a stick-person, it was still inside out. Pandora, knowing no special or strong stitches, was whip-stitching the doll together. (A/N: hi, ya'll. it's me again. yeah, i figured that i'd tell you: a whip-stitch is really simple; one sticks the needle through the cloth on one side, pulls it through, brings the needle around, and sticks it back through the one side. The stitch is then repeated. The one good thing about it is that you don't have to put them close together. You know those bunny hand puppet things that little girls make, the ones in the toy stores? That weird stitch is a whip-stitch. This is important. Pandora can't really sew. *bows* thank you.) The Twins watched for a while before turning back to the tv and playing a video game. Eventually, Pandora had nearly gotten all the way around the doll, and she pulled some lint out of her pockets.

"Two, do you have any lint?" she asked.

He paused the game. "Lint?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, like in your pockets."

"I guess…" he jammed his hand down into his pockets, all of them, pulling bits of fluff and lint out; he passed them to her. One looked from the small pile of fuzz to the little doll (that was hardly bigger than his finger); he pulled some lint from his pockets, too, and handed them to Pandora. The pile was still not large enough to fill the tiny doll, and Pandora bit her lip for several seconds, the Twins watching her intently to see what she would do.

Pandora slipped a hand behind the couch cushion and pulled a handful of stuffing out. She added it to the pile, and, deeming it satisfactory, turned the doll inside out and began to stuff it.

She tried to stitch the side together, but it wouldn't work and she got so frustrated that she threw the doll across the room with a shout, and it fell behind a couch against the wall. (a/n: and that was one long, grammatically incorrect sentence)

~@~

Two the shaman stood in the cool fall air, shivering slightly. It was cold, and his costume left his ripped chest quite bare. (a/n: *smiles sweetly* oh, you knew it was coming…) He had sprayed his dreads black and was wearing the headdress proudly. He didn't have to worry about being embarrassed for two reasons: one, he would never come back to this neighborhood, and two, he was wearing a skull mask. He had faux fur scraps tied around his biceps, one with a little shield, the other dangling with beads. Fur leg warmers and straw sandals had replaced his white leather boots, and his paper white skin was now a tan brown—thanks to several layers of paint. In one hand, he carried a turtle shell rattle, in the other, a can of "Silly String." He had yet to discover what it really was.

The zombie was wearing a suit. An Armani suit, perfectly disheveled and making One look exactly as if he had fought his way free from the grave, was covered in a fine layer of dust, to add to the creepy, "freshly dead" feel to the costume. Without the Merovingian's permission (of course without it, permission would have destroyed the adrenaline rush of stealing it), the Twins had frayed, soiled, and cut a brand new suit. All of the "adjustments" had helped One fit into the man's scrawny clothes. Scrawny rat of a man… Ironically, One's candy bag was the very same bag he had snatched with the suit inside.

Dripping fake blood, Pandora looked quite gruesome, and although she was loathe to hold Two's hand the whole time, she looked as if she could not move on her own. She had four needles "stuck" in her; in reality, they had been attached with glue and latex. Around her shoulders, she had draped a black messenger bag, intending to fill it to the brim with candy.

Together, the three made a perfect joint costume. As they Trick-or-Treated, the attracted some second glances from mothers. However, Two was lording his superior costume over everyone, playing the part perfectly. Occasionally he would yell "voodoo" curses at people, wave his rattle in their faces, send his zombie after cynical teens, and threaten people with his voodoo doll. They went from house to house, collecting more candy than Two had ever imagined existed.

~@~

"489!" Pandora cried triumphantly.

Two shouted, "HA! We beat you! We have 491!"

"Hey… that's my candy apple!" Pandora accused.

"What?" Two asked, bewildered. He looked down. Next to his hand sat a candy apple. "This? No, it's ours…"

"Na-uh! You didn't get one! That lady said you were too old for candy!" she protested, snatching for her treat.

Two deftly slipped the apple away, and smiling, he said, "You must have dropped it. Finders keepers!"

"Wull, fine, keep it! I don't like nuts anyways… But you can't count it as yours!"

"It doesn't matter, we still win. 490 is more than 489!"

"Oh yeah?" Pandora argued. "Well take this!" She gobbled up a piece of Two's candy.

"Wha," Two sputtered. "Hey! That was mine!"

"Yummy.. It tasted good, too."

"Why you—" Two began, grabbing for Pandora.

"Tsk, tsk, brother," One's voice echoed from the shadows. "Have one of our pieces. We have plenty."

Two caught the Bit O'Honey in his left hand and added it to his pile. "How many do we have?"

"14,387."

"NA-UH!" Pandora shrieked.

"Come count 'em, if you like," One said maliciously.

Pandora submitted, "No, no… That's okay. I trust you. (I think.)"

"We only have that many cuz we STOLE it from those little kids!" Two protested. "That shouldn't count!"

"Two," Pandora whispered. "Let's leave him alone; he's scaring me."

"We don't scare ourselves, but whatever…"

And they ate their candy, and there was much rejoicing. There was also much candy stealing. Mostly on the parts of Two and Pandora. Seeing as how One had some fourteen thousand pieces of candy.
~MnI~
*heavy sigh* I worked so hard to post this you guys… please please please review!! Oh yes, and expect more soon, I'm having way too much fun to stop!

Notes from the orange of doom, who is threatening us—I mean me—with tensaiga:

It's true.  I can see them, the messengers of the underworld.  It's time to test Tensaiga's power!  *bludgeons MnI, who is used to this by now*  But, since we're dressing up as the Twins tonight, we're actually bludgeoning us, which makes things interesting (If the Twins got into a fight, would that count as masochistic behavior?  We wonder…)  Anyway, we're here to advertise our own crazy fanfic, the Spork of Power, which is much more insane.

*MnI stands behind orange-sama making snide comments*

OoD: That really wasn't necessary, us.

MnI: We're incompetent.  And be we, I mean you.

OoD: But you're the one who's hung up on Two.  At least MY obsession isn't a total...I don't know, non-intelligent person.

Two: *sobs*  We feel so unloved.

One: Why do we have to act so stupid at times like these?