Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Romance/Horror/Humor
Authors Note: I ask anyone who reads this to please review it...I've been working on this series for quite a few years and I'm really happy to finally have started the final editing. The Revenge Trilogy is the biggest project I have ever done and gotten so far with. I'm very proud of it, and I hope everyone enjoys it.
I guess I should explain something about this – I started it in the beginning of eighth grade (I will be starting 10th grade in September 2004). I wrote it for stress relief. That was all it was supposed to be at first – a place where I could write out all my stress by completely taking apart hoards of people little by little. But after a while, it became more than that. It started to develop an actual plot. And after a bit of convincing, my dear friend Sweetbriar convinced me to write a sequel. And then, a sequel to that developed. And so, all this became the Revenge Trilogy.
I hope you all enjoy this...
(In this story I am in tenth grade. I would just like to clarify that I no longer go to that school.) Disclaimer: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac © Jhonen Vasquez
Chapter One:
A scream threatened to come, tugging fiercely on my vocal chords. I held it back. It wouldn't do me any good – only serve to give me more stares than I usually received every day, what with my mutilation of the school uniform. It was terribly plain and ugly, but my close friends and I always found ways to make it more interesting.
The Hell I spent five days a week in was the same all-girls Catholic school I had been attending since 7th grade, for the past three and a half years. Now I was suffering through the winter of my 10th grade year.
The ugly uniform was half the reason for my misery. There WERE different combinations – the half-see-through white polo shirt was mandatory, but then there was the sweater, khaki pants, navy blue skirt, and plaid kilt.
The easiest combination to manipulate consisted of the short-sleeved polo shirt and the plaid kilt. One of my best friends, Emma, and I mutilated the uniform in basically the same way.
I sat with her in front of the building after school, as I usually did twice a week or so. Her fingernails were painted black, matching her eyeliner. She wore four-inch platforms on her feet, raising her height to 5'9", while mine only raised me two inches, bringing me to 5'3". Her stockings were striped white and black, and her forearm was almost entirely covered with bracelets and wristbands.
I hated my height – despised it, actually. At fourteen and 5'1", I went to the doctors and found out I wouldn't be growing anymore.
I went home and cried for an hour.
Just goes to show how odd the things that break me are.
"I can't believe Mr. Fletcher gave you that late assignment sheet," Emma said. She shook her head. "You couldn't have gotten that homework done. You've been sick!"
"No shit, Emma? And I left my book in my locker, so the only way to do my homework would have been to call someone and copy." I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure he would have liked that. It's like he gets off on failing me."
Mr. Fletcher was one of the most hated teachers in the school – unfair, nasty, and seemingly obsessed with saying "breast cancer".
"Mr. Fletcher." Emma sighed. "Such a manbitch. Well, now that yelling about the pond scum is over, did you bring them?"
"I forget a lot of things," I said, "but I never forget these." I turned my backpack upside down and sent comic books spilling onto the grass.
The assortment wasn't very wide, but good enough for us – Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Squee!, I Feel Sick, Lenore, and Nightmares and Fairy Tales. I chose Lenore while Emma picked up I Feel Sick.
Emma and I sat there in front of the school for almost an hour, until most of the students had gone and even most of the faculty began to take their leave. My eyes followed Mr. Fletcher's car out the gates.
I settled back down, trying to calm myself, listening to the leaves toss in the November wind.
"Poor girls...so lost, so blinded..."
"What?"
Emma gave me a strange look. "Did you say something to me?"
"No, I thought YOU...never mind."
I couldn't help but notice the wind pick up. I began to get nervous, and with that came a heightened awareness – either that or paranoia. Emma did seem uneasy also, but not as much. I fought myself with the notion that it was all in my head.
But it wasn't.
My book was blown right out of my hand, and Emma's went with it. We reached for them frantically, tossed around in the gust of wind and leaves, until we were blinded and knocked to the ground. All we could do then was wait for the wind to stop. And when it did, I could tell something was wrong, though I couldn't put my finger on it.
When the confusion had gone, it was all-too easy to see what was wrong. We weren't wearing our uniforms anymore. The writing on my t-shirt explained the shock in Emma's eyes. It simply proclaimed – "FUCK YOU".
Emma's new ensemble wasn't exactly...appropriate for a Catholic school either. It said in large, block letters – "FUCK YOUR MORALS, AND FUCK YOUR RULES".
That wasn't it, though. The change was so unbelievable that I hadn't caught on at first. But then I slowly began to notice...nothing at all was right anymore. Not one little detail about the world around me.
There was no concept of realism here. I ran my hand over the solid- colored grass. It felt the same as always. I did the same to a nearby tree, so confused when I could feel the depth and roundness, even though it seemed so flat.
The environment wasn't the only thing that had changed. I held my hands out in front of me. They too were solid-colored, and seemed as flat as paper.
"Well," Emma said, wide-eyed, "THIS will take some getting used to."
"Emma, I think we need some serious psychotherapy."
"Now WHY would you think that?"
"Let's see – I got knocked out by a huge gust of wind, and now suddenly I'm in some cartoon fantasy world."
"I KNOW," Emma said, narrowing her eyes. "I was being SARCASTIC."
I sighed loudly and continued to examine my surroundings. Everyone by now had gone home, or so I thought. A few nuns were still lurking around the convent building, and one of them had a bit of a bone to pick with the two of us.
"Young ladies!"
I groaned. "Oh no..."
The old woman marched up to us, hiking up her skirts as she did so. It was amazing, the things I had come to know about the actual nature of nuns. All their talk of being kind and polite and patient, especially in explaining the concept of sacrilege t someone, was just that – talk, and nothing more.
I nonchalantly crossed my arms, hoping to cover some of my shirt's lettering. "Why Sister, is there a problem?"
She glared at me, her brow furrowed. "Yes, there IS a problem. WHAT kind of clothing do you think you are wearing? And on school grounds...GOD IS WATCHING!! DON'T YOU SEE?!"
It was incredible, watching this woman's eyes bulge straight out of her head. I paid more attention to that rather than listening to her rambling.
"Humans were not created above all others to curse and mutilate our language! You disgrace our God! You disgrace the Christian religion!"
"I'm pagan..." Emma said, arching her eyebrow.
"And I'm JEWISH," I added.
The nun's face turned red. Not partially and not a light hue...her entire, large, cartoon head swelled to twice its size and turned absolutely red.
"Pagan?! Jewish?! This school is for CHRISTIANS! We do not wish to mix with those doomed to Hell! Begone! I will have you expelled! I will — "
Her head dropped off of her body and onto the ground.
"...OH MY GOD!"
It was not an explanation of fear, horror, or disgust. The sickened feeling I should have gotten from seeing a severed head up close was dispensed by the fact that it was simply an unrealistic drawing to me. What shocked me was WHO was responsible for this decapitation.
Johnny C.
I was frozen, unable to speak. Emma, on the other hand – and unfortunately – was not.
"Holy shit! Look, Sam, it's Nny! Right there in person! HOLY SHIT!"
Johnny winced, finally turning his attention to us. "Tell me, could you BE any more annoying?"
Emma lowered her head and kicked at the dirt. I continued to stare at Johnny, breathing heavily, my heart pounding. It was all too good to be true. With me and my heinously long-running habit of lusting after cartoon characters...this was a dream come true.
Of course, fearing for my life, I was not about to confess to a 21- year-old homicidal maniac that I, a 15-year-old Catholic school student, was completely in love with him.
"I suppose I apologize if that previous episode disturbed you," he said in a monotone, "but that woman was trying my patience. And you'll have to get used to it, anyway."
Emma kicked at the bloody head as if it were a soccer ball. "Nah, it wasn't that bad."
"Yeah...n-no problem," I stammered.
"Good." Johnny paused, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. "Well, then, uh...I guess...it's time to get going." He turned and began to leave.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Emma called after him. "Where the hell are you going?"
"Back to my house. And you're coming with me."
"What?!"
"We're going to YOUR house?"
"Did I stammer?" Johnny said coldly. I stared in disbelief...which wasn't much of a change from what I had been doing before.
Now first I'm swept up into...some fantasy world, then the object of my obsessive desire shows up, and then practically ORDERS my friend and me to go back to his house. How was I supposed to believe that this was not a dream?
"Okay, Emma," I whispered once we had started walking, keeping a safe distance away from Johnny. "I think I know what's going on here. See, we were knocked out because the wind into our faces, and now we're doing that weird thing where two people have the same dream. What do you think?"
"...I think it's crazy."
"And all THIS isn't?" I gestured exasperatedly to our surroundings. "We are practically WALKING on the pages of a comic book. How is that not crazy?"
Emma still didn't believe me. Truthfully, I didn't really believe myself either.
We had walked no more than three blocks when Emma shrieked so loudly it caused both Johnny and me to stumble forward.
"SAMMI! LOOK WHO IT IS!"
I almost shrieked MYSELF when I spotted him – Eric. Vampire Eric. Except...he was back to normal, if you could call that state NORMAL. He was grasping the hand of a little girl, about to cross the street.
"Why isn't he a vampire walrus?" I whispered loudly.
The younger girl heard me. "He's been cured for two months now. I'm his little sister. I put him back to normal. I'm actually a genius, but the world just isn't ready for my vast knowledge, so I keep quiet about it."
They crossed the street. Emma hadn't listened to Eric's sister at all. She was too busy staring at the boy, drooling puddles all over the ground. Her eyes glazed over.
"I am going to find him later," she said, trancelike, "and screw his little brains out."
Johnny made a disgusted noise. I rolled my eyes.
"LITTLE brains is right."
"What?"
"Nothing, Emma."
She was silent for the rest of the walk. My guess was that something far more interesting was taking place in her head...not that I wanted to delve any further into what it was. Johnny didn't seem about to attempt conversation either, so I kept my mouth shut.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at his house – which was located very close to Blackstone Boulevard.
'Living room' was an appropriate name for that part of the house – it was the cleanest one in the place, as I came to realize after the tour, and it reeked the least. Opening the door to the basement almost caused me to double over and gag.
"DAMN, Johnny," Emma said, waving a hand in front of her nose as the putrid smell wafted over to her. "Do you ever, like, clean this shit up? Like, have you ever used Pine Sol on this place or anything?"
Johnny stared at her. "Occasionally...when I please."
"Do you ever clean out the dead bodies?"
"Every Saturday neighbors find me in my backyard digging mysterious holes – not that they ever bother to ask."
"What would you tell them if they did?" I inquired.
My caretaker thought for a split-second. "The grave would become theirs for being so nosy. So..." his eyes brightened maliciously, and for the first time that day, I saw him smile. "Would you care for a tour?"
"Down THERE?" Emma asked, pointing to the basement door. "Actually, if you don't mind, I was thinking of getting some dinner."
"No. Sorry if I didn't make myself clear; I wasn't actually ASKING."
With that, we were forced down the long flight of stairs to encounter Johnny's vast basement for the first time in real life. I never imagined it could smell so bad. I made a mental note to buy some air fresheners for the place.
He walked closely behind us, making sure we didn't make an attempt to turn back and run. No, the consequences of that would not be pretty.
And neither were the sights I came to see. People of miscellaneous ages tied to the ceilings, screaming as the blood rushed to their heads and the ropes cut into them. Unseen people in boxes made odd noises now and then and complained of rats. Most of them were pinned to the walls in an assortment of ways – with safety pins, fishhooks, nails...some impaled. These people had bought their tickets into this place by leading lives of hypocrisy, deceit, and manipulation. Not one was there without a reason. There were so many more floors to this basement, and I didn't need to see them to know they too were filled.
And yet there were still more of them out in the streets.
Oh, they were sorry now. Sorry they were paying for having their fun in such ways, anyway. I could see it in the eyes of those who could not speak – those eyes, pleading for me to help them, to save them.
As if, after all they had done, they deserved it.
Where they deserved to be, they were. And they wouldn't be leaving.
Everything they had done was okay by THEM, as long as they weren't the ones getting hurt. Now the light of day greeted them with excruciating pain. And they deserved every bit of it.
Emma's thoughts on the matter did not go quite as deep as mine, I could see. She was having a great time poking away at them, stabbing them in the eye with her fingernail and snickering when they thrashed around, unable to do anything. It WAS quite funny.
Leaving the basement was a bit of a relief, only on account of the smell. We moved back into the living room. I flopped down onto the couch, glancing at a nearby wall ornament – a bunny's body held to it by a large nail through its middle.
"So, how did you enjoy that?" my black-haired vigilante wanted to know.
"Oh, it was f-fine," I stammered.
Johnny looked to Emma for a response. She shrugged. "Ah, it was kind of interesting. They smelled kinda weird. But it was funny when they screamed."
My jaw dropped.
"Well, it's a good thing it doesn't bother you much," Johnny said. "Soon you're going to know a lot more about what all this is like."
I had a bad feeling, but tried to send it off with a joke. "Are we about to become your latest wall ornaments, Nny?"
"No...no you're not. Where the hell did you get that idea?"
I shrugged.
"Okay...no, no, that's not what's going to happen at all. Rather, YOU will be joining me for one day, working with me."
"Why?" Emma asked.
"Well, I know some of the things that go on with you two. Since you don't know what it's like making your living as a homicidal maniac and think it would be so fantastic, I've decided to remedy this; killing two birds with one stone. You two get your jollies killing off those you hate, relieving stress and also, hopefully, being so disgusted you'll stop with this longing to kill off anyone who bothers you."
"Why do we have to do that HERE?" I inquired.
"Because I cannot get caught...and as long as you are with me, neither can you. And, once you are done, you will be automatically transported back to wherever the hell you came from, where everything will be just like it was before – as in, no one will be dead and all that shit."
Emma's face brightened. "COOL!"
"But," I wondered, "what would have happened to us if we were never given this privilege?"
Johnny reached into his jacket and drew out two identical short- swords. He placed one into each of our hands.
"You would have slowly lost yourselves and gone absolutely insane. But now, you've been given a chance to fix that. So I suggest you make the best of it."