A/N: This is the first of many chapters that will cover the content of the Wall album and film, while expanding upon its imagery within the context of the Beeetlejuice characters, though I am not sure how I will incorporate the lyrics in the right place within that chapter, and I think it's best if I have them at the beginning of each chapter and the second song somewhere in the middle. This is a bit of trial and error, as I am not sure it would necessarily fall into the song fic category in the conventional sense, but even if it does, I hope I do a good job of linking the lyrics to the action of the scenes as they were in the original album, with a few tweaks here and there, of course, to accommodate the action the Beetlejuice movie characters are supposed to reenact.

The rights to the lyrics and imagery go to Pink Floyd and Roger Waters, while the Beetlejuice characters are the property of Tim Burton and the Geffen Company. I don't derive any monetary gain from the use of both properties, and this story is only for entertainment purposes. That being said, I hope you enjoy the fic for what it is. Please note that the second song falls into the pattern of scenes and events that take place inside Lydia's mind.

Chapter 1: When the Tigers Broke Free/In the Flesh?

Lydia thought she heard her fans calling to her, but when she opened her eyes again, she was no longer within a darkroom, primping herself to welcome the hordes of fans that waited for her outside her room, but inside her own hotel room, still seated in the middle of that place, now staring at the television set, which hadn't been turned off the other night.

She was holding a burn-out cigarette in her left hand, and sometimes her eyes would flicker between the set and the empty space that surrounded her, if one would exclude the mess of clothes, discarded coke cans and other stuff that littered the room.

Tucking one strand of black hair behind her ear, she turned her attention to the TV set and never made any sound the time, her brown orbs still focussed on the action of an old WW II film that was playing. She seemed deeply lost in her thought, but she felt as if she couldn't turn her attention towards anything than the screen in front of her.

A part of her mind screamed to go out and close the damned thing, but her body wouldn't obey and the rest of her brain had no other option than to oblige and remain seated in her place.

Not even troubled by the burnt-out sensation of the cigarette between her fingers, she thought it best to stay there until she could more comfortable within her own skin in an hour or two.

Then, without warning, a voice that seemed to come out from the pit of her own soul, started singing the following lines.

It was just before dawn one miserable
Morning in black Forty-Four.

When the forward commander was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.

And the Generals gave thanks as the other ranks
Held back the enemy tanks for a while.

And the Anzio bridgehead was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.

Her eyes closed and only darkness remained there.

Anzio, Italy, 1944

Now, a match was lighted in the midst of all this blackness, and when it came closer to the face of its owner, it became clear that this was one of the underground bankers and the person who lighted was a soldier, even though at first glance he wouldn't seem to be the type of person who would join the army.

The man was none other than Charles Deetz, a blonde man in his late thirties, who wanted to replace an old friend he helped in one of his business dealings in England. A fine young man by the name of Leslie Dean, who could help convince his father to help the Deetz couple to get ont their feet, after losing much of what their possessions and prestige as a family from the repercussions of the Great Depression, that were still felt to the country, even if two decades had passed from that time.

In spite of what he could do, however, they still got to young Les, only that he would serve in the French area, which wasn't as worst as the situation at Italy were at the time.

Still, Charles couldn't imagine Italy to be far more worse than Hell. Yes, that's how he saw it: It was no longer fighting in the trenches, just serving his time in Hell itself, complete with the sound of gunfire and bodies falling dead to their tracks at all directions.

Pondering what he should do next while rubbing his mustache, he turned his blue orbs to the old radio transmitter and wanted to infer Private ''Smiley'' of his worries for another one of the blasted air-craft attacks these Nazis would try on them. Putting his helmet on, and checking for any wounds he had forgotten about in all this fuss, only finding almost every bit of his grey brown uniform to be in its place, he grabbed his rifle and made it though the little nursery where the wounded were still being treated, making out the exit to see what today had in store.

Once he went up to the ground, he could see the British soldiers going about their way to meet the enemy head on, or half way, depending how one would see it. But the battle took its toll, and it seemed that both sides would only as so much retaliate in a vain effort to have a stronger hold on the other side of the battlefield. As for himself, though not a complete pacifist, he hated war and death in all its forms, even if he was told that this one could help make the world safe for democracy and preserve the human liberty anyone was entitled to. At least, anyone who would still walk the face of the Earth when all this were over, for that matter.

He always wanted to help people and be able to be for them, but he also wanted to be with his newborn child. The word he got from the mail he received earlier this morning was that his wife, Evelyn, gave birth to a baby girl that had a tint of brown hair in its head, though he became worried when he read that perhaps Eve won't be able to live long enough after all the pressure she had to sustain to bring this baby to the world. But there was no worry, because he knew a good friend of his, Moira Mercer, that would take care of his daughter, nurture her and love her as though it was her own.

He thought he heard someone calling his name to him, and he turned to find the source of the of that voice, only to see a corporal yelling at him and waving for him to get back to the shelter. He quickly rushed to get back under the banker from another exit, and he immediately got to work when he got there, taking a seat and listened to the radio speaker, only to hear something about German bombers coming their way, though not exactly stating what type of aircraft actually was. Little it mattered to him, as he got up and urged everyone to take their wounded out of there and get to one of the other bankers next to them.

He ordered three men to stay with him, in case they would be needed for any further transportation that could potentially salvage more of their fellow troops. Once they have made sure the area was empty safe from them, they stayed at their posts and waited for any further commands. They didn't notice that the last troop had accidentally closed off their only exit door from inside the banker, and without knowing it they waited for any further enemy activity that they could tackle on, even if they were only four men.

Little did they realize that the last strike would not be on the ground, but it would be executed airborne, as one of the Nazi aircrafts slowly made its way towards them. The four men all screamed in unison as they saw the plane looming over them, letting go of the bomb in its belly. It was falling towards them and it was followed by a hail of bullets that went though the holes that allowed soldiers to shoot at enemy troops from the ground, decimating all three of them in their abdomen, leaving Charles relatively unscathed, but the horror was still present.

Once the bomb was close enough in his vision, Charles couldn't help it and screamed his lungs out as the bomb landed next to him and the blast took out everything inside the place, leaving nothing but fire and smoke to come out.

No one could have survived from a blast of this kind, not even someone as lucky as Charles Deetz, the person who only to return home and hold his daughter in his arms, but it would not happen, and his child would only know him, for now on, from photographs and other fragments of his past life.

The dream of a loving family is forever gone, living only dust and ashes in the wake for a more fierce nightmare. One that the man wouldn't believe it if he had lived to see it, but he's not, so why bother?

Lydia woke from her slumber and felt her need to go out of the room and address the hordes of angry fans that protested against a squad of cops and security guards, all of them wanting to see her perform. Once she came out of the open window, an enormous cheer went up from the crowd, it's ferocity throwing the city into a spiral of despair and anxiety as to what would happen during this particular night.

The hotel window was not the one she was in, waiting for the time her concert would begin, but a window that was surrounded by two flags that had two crossed hammers, and under the balcony, a soaring black eagle made of marble stretched its claws in both directions, as if it was made to protect the person who would tame this wicked horde of fans.

A second marble eagle that was reminiscent of the one that adorned Hitler's balcony during the time he was in power, was inscribed in the bars, as if meant to protect the occupant of the room from any attempt on her life

She wasn't wearing her blue jeans, her grey blouse or her all-star shoes. She was wearing a black uniform that was suited for anyone who would attempt to bring back fascism into the grander scheme of things, her black hair was cut short, giving her the look of some elvish princess, her eyes were covered in black make-up circles, and a pair of black military boots completed the overall ensemble.

Having observed the crowd, and the sea of teenaged girls and boyfriends that came to join this little ''party'' with one of the greatest icons in rock music history, the one and only Lydia Deetz in all her glory, she walked around the balcony a few times, gathering up all the strength she needed to call upon her royal followers into doing her bidding. She was illuminated by one of the torches that were placed right between the crowd, giving them the impression that this was indeed more of a rally preparation than just a performer coming to appease an audience from the cruelties of life.

Once she reached to the left side of the balcony, a face of utter seriousness and determination was formed in her face, and she decided it was best to give what the people needed, so she started singing her message to them, hoping that it would also wake the rest of the world to face the ugly truth and the responsibility that befalls on them.

''So ya thought ya
Might like to go to the show
To feel the warm thrill of confusion,
That space cadet glow.''

A row of mostly blond girls that managed to be in front of anybody didn't even dare to make a sound and were watching with their eyes locked on their beloved leader, their icon...no, their ferocious master giving one of his speeches, as a way to bring courage to their hearts and fill them with the purpose they thought they searched for all their short lives.

''Tell me, is something eluding you, sunshine?
Is this not what you expected to see?''

The male viewers were taken aback by the hand gestures of the rock singer, amazed at how the tone of her voice would rise and give the right emphasis at the right moment, almost as if she a siren who put them into her trance and they couldn't bear it any longer, leaving them the only option of appeasing this wondrous goddess of contemporary rock 'n' roll, even at the risk of giving up their lives for her. Not that they had anything of value, but most of them were promising, and could take on a squad of cops and have no care for the world if they were got hit in the head, or were shot on sight by the bastards that wear all this authoritarian shit that made no real difference at all in their minds.

''If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes
You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise.''

The crowds were now screaming, partly because they knew they were to become the messengers and loyal soldiers in a battle against all the vice and stench that affronted them, and had been a huge burden on the backs of the people who suffered more than the ones who never had the gumption to give it back to the world. They didn't really want to acknowledge what or who they should go after to put the blame on, but they were just so excited to be in that young woman's presence.

''Lights!''

''Roll the sound effects!''

''Action!''

''Drop it on 'em!''
''DROP IT ON 'EM!''

And that was all it took for the fans to go completely berserk and start trashing whatever and whoever they found, going as so far as to hurt a young couple who wanted to take a walk that night and the man was bashed to the head by a scrawny-looking young by and his girlfriend, who were screaming obscenities in the name of their heroine, ''Lyds''.

The police tried their best to keep most of the overenthusiastic crowd at bay, and it was certain that most people must have been high that night, to the point where they weren't conscious of whatever they were doing around themselves. They only cared to appease their idol, who stood for a while, and turn her back to them to retreat to her room with a evil smirk in her face.

The bloody mess was carried on as she had planned, and her followers, regardless of some of them being adolescents and teens, were taking it out even to the few minorities that were there, be it blacks, Asians and a few Latinos, that once were beaten to a pulp, their own mother wouldn't probably recognise them from the many hits they might have gotten in their face.

Eventually, the cops were able to apprehend most of the problematic youths and some of them were even female. The majority of the officers were lucky to have worn helmets, while they were some who were fallen victims to the violence of the stoned youngsters, causing a few deaths in the process for both the officers' side and the civilians who happened to be at the time.

The carnage-like event went for another two or three hours, in a night that never seemed to end. And perhaps, it wouldn't be.