Disclaimer – I do not own any of Team Ninja's Characters or anything else related to Dead or Alive.
A/N : This was meant to be the final chapter, but it's not, so no Merry Christmas to you guys, there's more to endure!
Bayman sobs as he walks down the empty hallways dolefully, his only companion in life lost. Other than his pet twig that he accidentally sat on when he was five, he has never loved so much and lost so greatly. His face is still covered with painful, small hand prints, the only things that his beloved Christie has left him with, other than a broken heart.
Bayman scribbles hastily at his sheet of paper, attempting to put his feelings into mighty words, like those of Shakespeare's Sonnets or perhaps Usher's Lyrics, but either way, he will win back his love.
"If your beauty was wood...and the world was full of..." Bayman scratches at his head for a moment and then smiles smugly, "The world was full of termites, then the world would NEVER go hungry!"
Bayman laughs triumphantly, gleaming at his work of art, the first line of his poem which he has already entitled, 'The Waltz of Love.' When its turned into a movie, he'll of course cast Russel as himself, and for Christie, perhaps...hell, she can play herself. There will be tasteful full frontal nudity, so it would be perfect if she plays herself. Bayman begins to skip down the hallway at the thought and continues scribbling.
He halts his feminine and awkward skipping at once, sending all of his weight rumbling as he peaks at the door number to his left. He looks down at the pink marker on his arm and notices that this room belongs to the blond haired goddess that so easily represents Aphrodite's radiance and matches his own Ares quite easily. She quite possibly was a mermaid in a previous life.
"Helena...the only gal that has a chance of dueling my Christie in a beauty contest." Bayman giggles lowly, tossing his masterpiece on the ground without a second thought and grabs a hold of the doorknob, "What a wonderful exhibit you shall make!" Bayman throws open the wooden door and leaps into the light filled room, "Klack, klack, klack, klack, klack!" He snaps pictures left and right, aiming at nothing and everything, just making sure he catches something.
Bayman slams on the carpeted living room floor with a bunch of pictures of the plain, white floor. He used all of his energy to jump into the room, so he couldn't move his arms and for that, he curses his weight problem. So did Twigster, but that's a different story. He peels himself up off the ground and rushes behind a dolphin print couch and peeks over into the hallway. Down the hall and through that auspicious door, he hears the most sublime sound of running water.
Finally his quest can end! If he can score these pictures, Donovan will give him his favorite pair of sneakers back and just maybe call off the hit on his life, but the latter isn't as important. Those Adidas have scored him more average, self-conscious, low self esteemed women than he can recall. Bayman begins to tip-toe through the living room and towards the bathroom door, but Helena's voice from behind the wood freezes him in his tracks. He leaps down into the corner and attempts to pretend he's invisible.
"Oh, Marco, I'm ready for you to work your magic on my oh so special places!" Her voice is musical, like a ballad sung by Beyonce or maybe even Pink...wait, not her, the other one, the one that thinks she's Spanish. Bayman tries to replay the Lady Marmalade music video back in his head, but keeps getting distracted. He shakes the thoughts away as he sees a well built, superbly tanned male model of some sort walk passed him towards the bathroom. He carries a metal tray of scented oils and other bottles and although he wears nothing, Bayman can't help but to blankly stare. If he could get his ass that tight, he could...
"Hey, Marco!" Bayman yells out and the young man turns around and Bayman immediately regrets calling the man's name. He didn't travel however many miles he's traveled to look at yet another man who is more endowed than himself.
"And who are you?" He asks with an accent that Bayman can only say is either Greek, Mexican, or French, but most definitely not American or Russian.
Bayman stands up, allowing him to be eye level with the sculpted chest and still curses himself for being the poster dough-boy for Krispy Kreme.
"I'm Helena's brother's cousin's best friend's son in law's, boss's, personal trainer...'s daughter...shit." Bayman frowns after painting himself into a corner. He wracks his brain for ideas of an identity and Marco continues to stare at him, "I'm you!" Marco's face twists into disgust and horror and Bayman nods his head quickly,
"Oh yea, pretty boy. I'm from the future, and if you go into that room, your life will travel down an nonredeemable path. You'll become me, overweight although still handsome, and..." Bayman stops talking as Marco drops the tray, spins around, and dashes away screaming in horror about not wanting to become a Star Wars Villain. He hears the front door slam and Bayman cackles in success, looking down at the now spilled sensual oils on the floor.
"MARCO!" Helena's voice booms from the bathroom and without hesitation, Bayman rubs his hands through the scented spills and kicks open the door with his foot. He rushes into the steamy bathroom and sees Helena's head sticking out from behind the curtain. Luckily she has cucumber slices over her eyes, blocking her vision and other than that, Bayman recognizes a certain lipstick. One that is rumored to come off on nothing it touches.
If he were to ask for a certain favor from the lovely French Maid that involved his slightly flaky croissant, Christie would never know. And Persephone certainly wouldn't know, not even with her code reading or whatever it is she does.
"I'm here, my beautiful." Bayman mimics Marco as best he can, sounding like he has slush in his mouth, every ounce of his being ready to touch this woman's wonderful, glistening body.
"You know how important our appointments are, don't be late again!" Helena throws back the curtain and Bayman feels as if all the sins and wrong he's done in the world has been forgiven. Her dripping, golden river of hair flows down passed her shoulders and over her sumptuous breasts. Her bronzed stomach is defined without an ounce of unneeded flesh anywhere and her navel calls out to him to look further. Bayman swallows nervously as he continues scoping down to the forbidden fruit, the nectar that he thought he'd never taste...
...and the same twisted, horrified face that struck Marco strikes Bayman across the face like a sack of bricks. There's a difference between the dazzling landing strip in Passenger 57 and the jungle that the doomed plane in Lost got tangled in. And in this blond jungle, there might just be a monstrous man eating dinosaur. Seriously, when was the razor invented!
"What are you waiting for, Mr. Brazil, what's holding up my bikini wax?" Helena plucks the cucumbers from her eyes and looks around confused at the nothingness within her bathroom. She could have swore she heard Marco or someone that sort of sounded like him, "Well I'm not gonna touch it!"
Bayman screams through the halls, sending doors opening and guests screaming terrible obscenities in his wake. He scrubs his eyes with his oily hands, burning his eyes terribly, but anything to erase the image, he will endure. Unfortunately he's too much of an idiot to realize that the image is in his mind, not on the surface of his eyes. Bayman slams through a door blindly and tumbles forwards, crashing head over heels.
The painful bruises laughing at him from all over, he rubs his eyes on his fleshy sleeves and his blurry vision begins to return. He stands in the living room of yet another room, this one decorated in sky blue wallpaper and carpet. All of these rooms must be customized and if he remembers correctly, its Hitler's Apprentice that loves this color. He has no intention, none what-so-ever to see this annoying girl unclothed or at all. He stands up to leave, but realizes he needs to wash this oil out of his eyes and hands.
He looks around hesitantly, not wanting to be spotted by the high pitched yelling machine that is Hitomi. He creeps passed the closed bedroom door and hears the satisfactory sound of loud, tree sawing snores coming from within. Bayman quickly rushes into the bathroom and notices her sparkling bathwater still in the tub. He doesn't need to turn on the sink and risk a creak or any noise that could be heard. He steps lightly and reaches down to wash his hands, but the water level rapidly begins dropping.
"What in the..." Bayman reaches down further, attempting to reach the quickly disappearing water and finally hits the porcelain bottom. His eyes widen in astonishment as he sees the silver haired head of an Italian Assassin poking out from the silver dollar sized drain.
"That appeased me quite! I was most famished!" He says, licking his lips with a smile and Bayman stares at the man,
"How in the hell did you just drink all that water in less than..."
"Already I said, I was famished most."
"And what's up with that broken English?" Bayman asks through confusion and Leon blinks his eyes,
"Something in that oasis had me trippin. Sorry about that, bud." Leon smirks and Bayman shakes his head,
"This isn't an oasis! And how did you fit your head through that drain!"
"Not an oasis? Then what are these pebbles?" Leon spits out a couple of small white pellets and Bayman shakes his fist through frustration,
"Those are bath beads, you idiot!" Bayman yells and thinks to punch the man across the face, mostly because he has no access to his arms to block, but he hears a stir behind him.
"Peace out, playboy!" Leon's head disappears down the drain almost as fast as it arrived and Bayman feels tears bubble in his eyes as he turns around and sees Hitomi looming over him wearing a black muscle shirt and black leather pants.
"We were allies in WWII , ya know. No reason for us to fight now." Bayman quickly explains and Hitomi laughs loudly, a screeching cackle that sends Bayman cringing in pain. She produces a metal crow-bar from behind her back and bounces it up and down in her opposite palm, "Please spare me! I'm but a humble, lost, circus performer's third nephew's oldest teacher's favorite actor's cocky lumberjack's pet aardvark's pastry chef's...shit."