Castlevania 1970: Disco of Evil Chapter 2: When The Dancin' Stops and The Lights Go Down Low (I swear that's from a song somewhere...) This Chapter By: ELRutt, Down But Not Out The Whole Crazy Concept Created By: Gaijin Dan Mastriani Stay Tuned For A Super Fun Contest! ~!@#$%^&*()_+ And run they did. They ran for miles and miles. Run and run and run and run and run and run. They kept on running until it seemed humanly (and vampiricly) impossible to run any further, yet they ran more. They ran so far and so fast that if I were to possibly try to quantify it in terms understandable to the human mind, your brain would explode and I'd probably be sued for the cost of clean-up. Anyway, they eventually stopped. Bob Belmont took a look around and was amazed at what he saw. They were in a land of great ancientness, mystery and pie. A land still trapped in the old ways of magic and mass hysteria. Where pin stripe suits and fedoras were still highly fashionable. Where the natives' accents were so thick one had to ask "What?" like thirty times. They were in, of course, New Jersey. "Hey man, where is this place?" Bob Belmont asked, fanscinated by the flickering images and bright pretty colors. "Don't call me 'man'," Alucard responded, almost reaching a point of near slight miffdom. "Sorry," Bob apologized. "Now, to answer your question," Alucard stated, switching to exposition mode. "Bob, we are in a land much different than your home. Where thieves and villains would slash you throat for the price of coffee. A land where evil knows no bounds. A land started by ancient settlers from Europe. "Back in 1634, times were different. People lived in grass huts and threw rocks at each other. They ate animals they had killed with their _own_ gun, not one borrowed from a friend. They lived and they died. The true meaning of existence was unknown to these savages. The only meanings they knew were small words like 'cat', 'tree' and 'pen'. "But one day a man in a really big, overly ornate hat changed all that. He came before the people of this land one misty afternoon with an idea. Nay, a quest! He said to the people, 'People, now I know you're gonna think this is crazy and I'll probably be burned as a heretic, but here goes... I have invented a marvelous device I have named... a "boat".' As he said this, the man did the quote thing with his fingers." Alucard gave an example. "The people naturally recoiled in horror. "The man continued, 'Now with this "boat",'" more quote things, "'we can cross long distances of water in a very short time period.' "'How short?' one of the braver men of the village asked. "The man answered, 'Oh, about six inches.' "The townsfolk gasped as one. The resulting change in relative air pressure caused a horrible typhoon season in the pacific northwest. Farmers and fisherman alike were forced to flee their homes and head out into the wilderness. In that land there lived a small boy--" EDITOR'S NOTE: All facts are not verified by Encyclopedia Britannica. Believe me I read that book from cover to cover. Well I read the expurgated version of the letter "K". "Ahem," Bob cleared his throat. "What?" Alucard asked. "Weren't you getting to the point?" "Ah yes, the point. What an elusive lass she be. Now as I was saying, there lived in this land a small boy--" "I don't care about the boy, I just want to know where we are!" "Oh well, in that case, turn around." "What?!" "Turn around." Bob Belmont did turn around with such speed and dexterity that had anyone cared about how people turn around, they would have stepped back in awe. If they were watching, that is. After he finished his fantastic display of turning around, he was met face to sign with a giant billboard with the message "WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY, NOW WITH ONLY THE SECOND HIGHEST MURDER RATE IN THE NATION". Bob fell over. "You mean I've been standing in front of that this whole time?!" Bob demanded. "Yes, now back to the story. The boy--" "Shut up about the story! I don't care about your stupid &$#@!+* story! Why are we in Jersey?! Why did we have to run here?! Why are we in the middle of the freeway?!" "You ask too many questions." "WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!" Alucard smacked Bob in a firm yet friendly manner, knocking him to the not so soft ground. "Shut up kid, you're starting to bother me." * * * And then the scene changed in a most glorious and colorful manner with absolute no consideration to the special effects budget. Vis: * * * Shaft, the Black Priest and Master of the Funk- *handjive* -and EVIL!, lounged in a hot tub with ten deliciously foxy ladies. "So, which one of you foxes wants to be the next one on the-" "Shaft!" Dracula interrupted before the author could come up with something witty for Shaft to say. "Yes, White Bread Drac?" "Have you killed Yoshitaka Amano yet?" Stated Dracula with little facial expression so as not to disturb his smooth skin and soft baby lips. "Uh... Yeah, sho 'nuf. He's one Dead Mother-" "Watch your mouth!" One of the foxes interrupted. Shaft promptly nailed her with a left hook. "... He's cold as Ice, D." Shaft talked out of his bad-a$$. "Really?" Dracula asked peering deep into Shafts soul for the *TRUTH!* "... sho, he be dead _as_ heck." "Good," Dracula bought it and thus Shaft was saved from participation in the medieval torture action sequence. "Everything is going according to plan. Soon the world will be mine to rule. Rock and roll will soon die and Disco shall live... FOREVER!" Dracula, looking particularly pleased with himself, left his chamber in search of some hot young comestibles. After finding not a single virgin to seduce, incapacitate, carry back to his castle, dress in a silly costume, toy with her mind, photograph for his website and eventually eat, he instead found himself "volunteering" at the local Blood Bank of Translavania. "I knew I forgot one of my tasks of Funk-" *handjive* "- and EVIL! I spent too much time tearing the tags off mattresses and watching senior citizens cross the street by themselves. I must off this Yoshitaka Amano immediately." Shaft emerged from the hot tub. "Foxes, you can chill for me in Foxspace." Shaft used his Far Out Disco Powers to open a portal. "Hoes, get yo big booties into the glowing green square." * * * Death held a cup up to the chamber wall to hear what events were transpiring in the neighboring room. He listened to the discussion of great importance between his master Dracula and the stupid, ugly, poo-head Shaft. 'Black Priest, my boney butt,' he thought. 'Who does he think he is, trying to usurp my position as Master Dracula's right-handed man? Besides Shaft was left-handed.' Dracula had changed over the past couple centuries. He had cut his hair and now styled it into a giant afro. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top to show off his golden chains. Worst of all, with his vampiric powers, he could dance, dance, dance the night away. His legs moved so fast it brought new meaning to the term: disco inferno. Parts of the castle were still smoldering. He was no longer the quiet brooding type Death had come to love. Now he was the party all day, suck the blood of a virgin all night, brooding type Death had come to loath. Death couldn't keep up with his changed master. His boney legs made him a horrible dancer. He had no follicles with which he could grow a big afro. His drab demeanor scared off all the ladies, and even when the fat lady in the back got drunk enough to give him a shot, his weary old bones were crushed under her girth when _she_ wanted to be on top. 'It was Shaft's fault,' Death decided. It was time to make him an offer he could not refuse. He would have to decide between cake or... DEATH! Mind you the cake was poisoned so he'd die either way, but Shaft wouldn't know that, now would he? * * * "So what you're saying is this New Jersey place in the center of all evil?" Bob Belmont asked Alucard in their bedroom of the Bed and Breakfast they were staying at for the weekend. The owner, a sweet old lady with suped up 1967 Cadillac El Dorado convertible in her driveway, asked surprisingly few questions about the fact that a fully grown, extremely pale tall man wished to lodge together with a boy of not more than sixteen years of age at her Bed and Breakfast, although she was rather concerned about the health of the tall man. When she asked, Bob, thinking quickly, told them he was English. Once they were safely in their room, Alucard smacked him. "Yes." Alucard answered the question asked before all the exposition in the preceding paragraph. "And this is where we'll find Dracula?" Bob wondered. "No." "No?" "No, this is where we shall find a plane that will take us to the land where Dracula's Castle resides." "You mean, _you_ know how to fly a plane?" "No, don't be stupid. I've been asleep for 200 years. Where would I learn to fly a plane 200 years ago?" "I see your point. How are you planning on getting there, then?" "There _are_ other pilots, you know." "I thought this was a _secret_ mission, though. Do you have a pilot you can trust?" "When did this become a secret mission? I never said anything about a secret mission. All I said was I needed your help to slay my undead father." "But I thought-" "That was your mistake, you were thinking. You must never think if you are to slay my father. You must act on impulse. A well thought out plan can only fail you. Strategy is for the weak. You must learn these things in order to become the True Disco Warrior of Upholding Justice And Laying Down The Funk Where Ever Funk Is At A Minimum." "The True Disco Whosa- what's it?" "Didn't I mention that part?" "No." "Oh. Well, it's not important." "It _sounds_ important." " You're annoying me with all your questions. Go practice whipping things or something." * * * Black Priest Shaft sat alone in his office of funk- *handjive* -and EVIL! In the office sat an enormous EVIL! desk of funk made from real imitation wood by-products. In the corner there sat a hat rack, a funky hat rack of EVIL! All his furniture was evil and/or of funk or at least wasteful and aesthetically displeasing. On the ceiling was the evil mirrored disco ball, ready to strike with funk. Sadly none of his office furniture had hands with which to handjive. 'So, yo this is what's up. First, I need to off this Yoshitaka Amano guy. Second, I need to hunt down and capture Alucard and the lil' Belmont punk so I can torture them and obtain a signed confession. It will all be done in an overly extravagant manner. Once they have confessed they will then be put in an inanely slow moving contraption of death, and I, in all my infinite wisdom, will not even witness their demise, but only assume they have bitten it. Three, nothing, there is no third thing. It sounded simple enough. I just have no clue on how I'm going to do it.' Shaft used the power of Inner Monologue Funk (and EVIL!) to form his evil plans. Silently, he did a handjive. "Man-servant Heccubus?" Shaft placed his hand under the desk and slowly raised it up. A being of infinite evil and impeccable dental appendages followed in its wake. "Yes, master?" Heccubus spoke in voice so evil that it made the rest of the evil stuff in the universe seem like a big grassy field with bunnies and pigeons and other inoffensive tiny creatures. "What have you been doing?" Shaft inquired as to whether Heccubus had any free time. "Well, I was busy making up phone numbers that spell naughty things and calling them." "EVIL!" he pointed at Heccubus, a smile of genuine pride curling his lips. "EVIL!" He kept let his pride show for just a second more before continuing, "But that must wait; I have a quest for you." "Now? But I was about to call 1-ALL-MY-BOOBS." "EVIL! You are so evil! But that White Bread Sonnofabench Drac has me on a gig. And my gig..." he paused, "is your gig." "All right. If it's for the big man, I'll go!" "Groovy. Now, you must journey for six days and seven nights to the distant land of Denver. In the land of Denver, you will find a book. A grand and mystical book whose pages have been corrupted by evil and artificial coloring. The pages in this insidious book are of a yellow persuasion, which in turn led to the book receiving the insidiously evil name of 'The Yellowpages'. Once you have obtaned this book you will find in it a name. The name is-" Alucard abruptly interrupted Shaft's ramblings with a nifty black bar down the middle of the screen. "Hold on a second! I am the only character allowed to give long-winded expositions. It's in my contract." Shaft tried to explain from his side of the split screen, "I was only trying to set up the next author." Alucard countered, "I don't care if you were trying to teach pigs how to become astronauts. It must cease and desist now or I'll call my lawyer and this whole fic will be put an end to. It's bad enough the author never shuts up, but with you having whole paragraph long lines, it is taking away from my stardom in this fic." Bob Belmont spoke up causing the screen to split into three parts, "I thought I was the star." All three character looked incredibly cramped in their tiny squares. "Shut up, kid. I'm talking big people talk here." Alucard pushed the two boxes of the other two less important characters out of shot. "So, to continue where Shaft left off, Man-servant Heccubus must go find 'The Yellowpages', look up Mr. Yoshitaka Amano, get his address, pay him a visit and kill him." "Does that mean we'll be rescuing him?" Bob asked from out of shot. "Shut up, kid. You're ruining the cliff hanger ending." * * * Suddenly, out of the middle of nowhere, Chapter 2 ended. ~!@#$%^&*()_+ LAME CONTEST: Let's see who can spot the most referrences to movies, anime, TV, music and other stories. A lot of lines in this fic have been stolen... er, borrowed from other things. This may seem like a lack of creativity but it is actually a set up to a really lame contest. Reread this part and write down every item which is from a different story. Pat yourself on the back if you found more than three. Rub your tummy if you found seven. When you find twelve get yourself some ice cream. At fourteen rub your tummy while you eat the ice cream. If your list contains more then twenty-five referrences, take a vacation to the Bahama's, you've earned it. If you found more than fifty, you're legally insane. Post your list on the message board. Brag to your friend(s) about it. Make your family members sick to death of it (no offense to Death). Create strange archaic rituals centered around you list. Go all out. You are the Referrence Queen (or King). Build your self a throne out of old newspapers and used toiletpaper rolls and sit high and proud upon it. You have conquered The Lame Contest and saved the universe! Please, insert fifty cents to continue. AUTHOR'S NOTES: I just thought it'd be fun to note that I wrote most of this part listening to music from Castlevania, except for the parts I didn't. This part was also written in two separate places of residence. This is my first "official" part for improfanfic to be posted (even though I did write a few sections of ZE). Although people often say chibi doesn't count as real impro. I even formatted this one. How about that? Thanks go to Rags for providing residency #2 for this fic to be written at. (The other being my house.) He introduced me to impro and although he is a fantastic writer, he's too shy to sign up for anything. Thank you for all you contributed to this part. He was the only author insolent enough to suggest that I rewrite parts and then rewrite them himself! EVIL! Thanks to my prereaders Zack Hibiki and Dolphin. They wisdom and insight really ...uh well the problem was that Zack mentally collapsed and Dolphin was forced to take over. After that things just got out of hand. Oh, I all most forgot, yes, cow tipping is fun, Dolphin. Thanks to Benjamin Bayard Sellars A.K.A. Swordfish, TurboGnomeOfLove, Father B, Baron, Frekke, and last and least 'Bu. He was another prereader. He offered me quite a few helpful suggestions. Thanks also to Gaijin Dan Mastriani for writing such an awesome starter and some spell and grammar chacking as well.