A/N: To the response of the review I received earlier today: Number 1, thank you for reminding me to continue this story. I hope you feel rewarded with the continuation of it. About your comments; I do not want Marshall to turn Fionna. He considers Vampirism a curse which in the series Marceline does try to get rid of at one point. I do not think he could do anything to Fionna like that. Also, I could never walk the same path as the Twilight series. I promise you that things work out in the end, but cursing Fionna with Vampirism will most likely NOT be part of the plot, I'm sorry to disappoint. I hope you enjoy the story regardless, and thank you so much for the helpful feedback! I love to hear the thoughts of the crowd.
Chapter 13: The Pit
Of course the only way to get to the land of the dead would be a hellish elevator, thought Fionna as the staticky Bossa Nova curdled over the speaker. The moment she had entered, she was filled with the awkward sensation of having to fart very badly, and from the look on Marshall's face, he had not been immune either. The Hand smiled cheekily at them as they slowly rode down to the land of the dead, butt cheeks tense in contrast to the lazy elevator music.
It was as if this elevator was created to torture its passengers.
Ding
Ding
Ding
Fionna couldn't hold it in much longer. What floor was the land of dead on again? The buttons had no labels.
Ding
Ding
Finally, the lift slowed, and the bump caused a small 'pfffft' to sound from one of them. Marshall looked at Fionna, horrified. Fionna laughed, and 'pfffft'ed in return. Which caused them all to laugh and fill the elevator with resounding flatulence, just in time for the door to open and to rescue them from the inevitable smell to follow.
The laughter died down as the cold and quiet atmosphere of the land of the dead engulfed them.
It was like a wasteland of wandering spirits, and creaky skeletons. Everyone seemed lost and confused, bumping into one another like zombies.
"Here we are." Mumbled The Hand as they surveyed it with their omniscient eyes.
"Where's mom?" Marshall asked, watching the pathetic ghouls wandering the landscape.
"Probably hanging out with Death." They said, just as a whiff of the elevator crawled up their nose.
"Oof, let's get moving. Your farts are haunting us."
Fionna and Marshall smirked at each other, each finding a bit of humor in the situation, before following The Hand towards a large spike formation in the distance, which could only be where Death resided.
Death Metal could be heard as they neared the castle, the citizens rotely headbanging, and occasionally throwing up the sign of the beast in a quaint 'rock on'.
No eyeballs followed Fionna, she seemed to walk on unnoticed, yet The Hand stayed cautiously close to her, bumping xis shoulder with hers once in a while. She looked up at them with curiosity. Were they protecting her? Xe looked back at her, their brows raising questioningly. Marshall was slightly bothered with their proximity, feeling a strange sense of jealousy.
Not like The Hand really felt anything for anyone, it wasn't in their nature. But they did have a duty to protect the Kingdom, and all their allies.
They weren't nearly at the gates by the time they could feel the bass of the metal thudding in their chests. The sound from the Death's Castle must be deafening.
No one and nothing was protecting the gates, in fact, they were slightly ajar. After all, what possible danger was there in the land of the Dead? Everyone was already a goner.
Marshall placed his arm around Fionna's shoulders, eyeing The Hand with a stink eye, and The Hand bowing dismissively as Marshall pulled her towards him. She was getting fed up at being given over from one protector to another. She was, after all, the Heroine of Aaa, and not used to being the subject of protection. It made her grind her teeth in annoyance, but she didn't push Marshall away should he not understand her frustration.
Anyways, it was kind of nice to have Marshall's arm around her.
They stayed close as they made their way through the gates, and into a crowd of violently headbanging and thrashing dead bodies. Death was center stage, groaning out incoherent and savage lyrics.
They pushed their way through the crowd, Fionna now cocooned in between The Hand and Marshall. The deeper they went into the crowd, the more violent the jostling became until they found themselves at the edge of a mosh pit.
Heads flew, and bones cracked as the bodies of the dead happily and brutally beat the crap out of each other. Marshall sighed as he saw they weren't anywhere close to Death on the stage, and the mosh pit widened as bodies were pulled into the chaos from the edges of the pit. Fionna felt her wrist being pulled in by a skeletal hand, and was jerked forward. Marshall, still holding tightly onto her, swung swiftly at the corpse attached to the offending hand. It clattered to the ground, moaning about warmth of flesh. The Hand dug it's heel into the corpse's skull to quiet it.
Any whisper of live flesh was sure to cause a riot.
Stealthily they skirted the edge of the pit, to find themselves almost to the other side, Fionna finally meeked into the protective crevice between The Hand and Marshall Lee.
Death's lyrics were incoherent, but Marshall cocked a brow as he noticed that Death was winking and pointing to a particular thrasher in the crowd.
Marshall followed the finger to a dark haired body in the crowd. He recognized them immediately, even if he only saw the back of them. She had, after all, walked AWAY from him his whole life.
"Mom! Mom!" Marshall began screaming over the metal. But of course, she couldn't hear. Desperately he pushed deeper into the crowd, pulling Fionna harshly behind him. His hand a bruising grip on her arm.
"Slow down…" Gnashed The Hand, trying their best to navigate Fionna in the crowd, moaning about how she should have been left in the Nightosphere.
"They threatened me with potato salad in the Nightosphere!" She cried defensively.
Finally, Marshall abandoned Fionna in pursuit of his mom, looking back apologetically to Fionna, and then giving The Hand a severe and commanding look. The Hand rolled xis eyes, and drew the human into their cloak. Then, Marshall was gone; jumping over the heads of the dead to float over the bodies to that particular dark-haired person.
When finally Marshall tapped the being on the shoulder to watch them turn to face him, applause had erupted in the crowd, and Death was groaning 'Thank You, Underworld!' to the returning cheering of his audience.
"Darling!" Hamna Abadeer cooed, at seeing the face of her shocked son. Marshall froze as he assessed the face before him.
"M-Mom?" He asked questioningly. The usually demonic black of her eyes were warmed into a dull brown, and her skin had also turned golden and dark in contrast to her usual shade of undead blue. She looked…
My glob, she looked… alive.
Marshall's mouth hung agape at her.
"Oh, sweetheart, don't look so put off." She chastised, and the coldness of her character began to resurface as usual. "Close your mouth, you look like a fish."
It was his mother, all right. Marshall thought. He closed his mouth, confusion, sadness, and anger swirling before him.
Death watched from above the stage at the guests who interrupted his concert. He sighed and snapped his fingers, transporting them all into a quiet room somewhere further in the castle. Fionna blinked in surprise, and The Hand sighed in relief.
Marshall couldn't tear his eyes away from his mother, barely recognizing the change in scenery.
"What…?" He began to ask. Then, Death leaned his skull face towards Hamna, softly pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Wait WHAT?" Marshall now screamed, his shock and confusion exploding within him. The sword softly whispered darkness into Marshall, fueling his emotions. Fionna chastised the blade.
"Hush!" She scolded at it. "This has nothing to do with you!" It shivered back a notched or two.
"What, what?" Hamna asked, innocently, blushing at the intimacy of Death next to her. "Doesn't your mom deserve some happiness?"
"You're…. brown!" He said in exasperation.
"Human is the word." She mumbled. Marshall shook his head disbelieving at her.
"You're… dead?" He said, more as a question than a statement.
"Yes… Alright fine. Sit down. I will explain."