A cold rain pricked down on South Park. Like a thousand cold needles stabbing this little purgatory of damed souls. Or at least that's how Henrietta would have described it. But alas she was not the author of this Fanfic. She had tried writing one once, but that abomination was a deep dark secret she kept buried in the deepest recesses of her heart.
The other Goth kids lounged about her room, bored with this tedious life, as usual. Baby Goth or Finkle as his "abusive" parents called him, was smoking a cigarette, their fearless leader Michael sat propped up against the bed sipping coffee, and Pete lay on his stomach, writing in his journal about his deep inner torment.
Henrieta turned away from the window and sighed. "Life is pain", she stated the obvious. "Life is pain", the other agreed.
A knock wrapped on the door. "Henrieta, sweetie", her mother called to her. To most people she sounded like a concerned, loving parent. But Henrieta knew she was an evil abusive bitch. From sending her to therapy, to taking away her cigarettes, her sadistic cruelty knew no end. She was a child who had never known love all her life.
"You have a little visitor." The door opened. In stepped two cloaked figures. "Okay fine Mom whatever now get out of my room.", she rolled her eyes. "Okay sweetie. I love you", she gave this soft fake smile that for an instant made Henrieta feel like she was being an ungrateful spoiled brat. That she was the abusive one. Truly her mother's evil knew no bounds.
The two boys threw off their hoods. Henrieta gasped. All the goths sunk to their knees in reverence. "It's…It's..", she stuttered. "MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS!", a British voice yelled from seemingly nowhere. The henchman smiled. His master scowled and snapped his fingers. A cry of agony.
"It's you", Henrieta said to the dark prince. "Yes it is I. The living void. The Prince of Pernition. "KNEEL BEFORE ME!", he bellowed with unrighteous fury. The Goths dropped to their knees. The Bandit's lips curled. "I'm tempted to see if you could do better than my beloved Olivia.", two hearts broke. A spark of jealously was lit, and another fire kept on burning. He gestured towards the other. "This one hasn't been very pleasing,"the bandit doubted these stupid children even knew what he implied.
The children knew what he was talking about. Henrieta flushed. The others just rolled their eyes. They'd only suck someone off ironically.
"What do you want?", Michael asked, tossing his hair. "What I want is to spread hatred and pain throughout the world. Throughout this town", he raised his hands up high like a preacher. A preacher of darkness. "And what I need is minions. Servants to carry out my will! In short worshippers!", a bolt of lightning cut the sky. A crash of thunder following in half a dozen seconds. "I will I will worship you!', Henrieta cried out in a religious fervor. "All hail the Dark Messiah!", chanted Pete. To Michael this all felt like a sermon by some shady pastor at a Christian megachurch. It made him sick. "We will spill their blood!", yelled a small quiet little voice. "E Tu Finkle", Michael said quietly. "Fuck the Conformists!", he said in a much louder voice. That at least he could say sincerely. He hated all conformists. Including himself. Had they learned nothing from Cthulu? How quickly did his friends forsake the Goth creed to chase utopian sunshine religions. Alas it fell to Michael, ever the dutiful Shepard, to lead his flock out of this mess. But first he had to understand this TP bandit. Learn his methods so he could subvert him when the time came.
"Good Good", said the Bandit. All was going according to plan.