The Ballad of Danny Hulgan

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Dean Martlou
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The Ballad of Danny Hulgan

Post by Dean Martlou »

before i get started, i must tell you that this is a ficfanfic: someone wrote a fic that i liked enough to write a fanfic of.

linky!

http://www.hostingphpbb.com/forum/viewt ... vxfanraces

(read that first, or at least skim it)


Chapter one: Shelly.

Shelly sighed heavily.
"Why can't I ever succeed?" Her question echoed off the walls of the dollhouse and she walked to the window and rattled the bars of mystical energy that held her inside her tiny plastic prison.
Their weakening was tiny, but perceptible. She couldn't bring them down overnight, however.
"Fuck Theo," she shouted, and the only reply was, "not interested, thank you very much."
Theo was such a prick.
Such an annoying, goody-two-shoes, tiny-penis, good-for-nothing, gives-blowjobs-to-horses prick.
Shelly turned and went to sleep on the hard plastic bed, all the time wishing that Ken dolls had genitals.

When the dollhouse turned over on its side and dumped Shelly against the mystical bars at the windows, she swore profusely.
Her only power for retribution would be to posess Danny's girlfriend.
"I knew I should have chosen a real power," she muttered.
-------------------------
Lucifer was underrated.
That was all Shelly Smith could think when she descended into the spitshine-clean, lemony-fresh, uglier-than-hairy-manbutt corridfors of Hell's assignment area.
She had applied for demonhood three years ago, and was finally being brought up for review.
She had already been given her assignment: Danny Hulgan was to be made to commit a murder, and not in self-defense.
Bob, the guy in front of her, was too chatty and pervy, and his assignment was ground into her brain, but he said it again. after two weeks in the waiting room, even this Danny fellow could have killed him.
Bob prattled on.
"So I've got to get this Jake kid to rape someone. I'm gonna apply for firedemonship. You say you're gonna be a possesor?"
Shelly hit him.
"YES. SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP, YOU RETARDED APE!"
That was when they finally called Bob through, and then Shelly.
She never saw the ass again.
Thankfully.
She was ushered into the office of a possesor named June. June had a massive beehive haircut, chewed gum that, by the smell, was butt-flavored, and spoke in an annoying drone.
"So you want to posses people?"
Shelly nodded, and June raised an eyebrow.
"Speak up. Possesors must be assertive. Nod again, and I'll send you to Sub-Hell."
Shelly grinned and leaned over the desk. She grabbed June by the collar and pulled her close.
"You wanna control me, go ahead, but you're gonna pay for it, you got me? I'd kill you, but that would be redundant. Now stick your attitude up your ass!"
June smiled.
"You might have the right stuff to be a possesor."


Chapter two: Theo

Theo's theory was simple: Shelly had been a prostitute.
He kept this thought to himself, of course, but he still enjoyed the idea that his enemy in this situation had once been in a very low station in life.
As an up-and-coming Angel, Theo's goal was simple. He had to stop Shelly from achieving her own goal. He had to keep Danny Hulgan from killing.
So far, it looked good. Shelly had gotten off on the wrong foot with Danny by possesing his girlfriend. She could only keep it up for a few minutes at a time, but those she possesed never knew anything about it.
This was why Annie had left Danny in the first place.
Frankly, Theo didn't mind that: the rhyming names had driven him nuts, but still, Shelly's insistence on dinking with Danny's personal life was irritating.
Theo sighed and removed the blessing from the dollhouse. He had to play by the rules like everybody else.
Shelly came tumbling out.
"You're both ugly bastards," she quippped wittily, and then poofed onto Danny's left shoulder.
"I see your small mind is still intact," Theo said drily. "Such a pity."
Shelly blew a raspberry at him and pulled Danny's hair.
"Ow, stop that," Danny cried, and he flicked the wannabe demon off his shoulder.
She splatted against the far wall and poofed right back to Danny's shoulder.
"Let's go," he sighed. Then he grabbed Shelly and held her up to his face. "You possess anyone I care about today, and I will grind you into the ground with my heel. Repeatedly."
He had figured out that, immortal or not, Shelly still felt pain.
"Just people you care about today," she replied. "I must be making progress."
"Go ahead and make Mister Lute give me a good grade on that history paper, though."
Shelly winked. "Can do," she said.
Theo sighed. Danny probably had some notion of the insanely complex rules of this little waltz, since he'd been stuck with his twinned shoulder-buddies for nearly two years.
If Danny ever figured it out completely, the game was over. He would have to make the choice then and there. Kill, or let live.
Theo could only hope that Danny would choose correctly. The odd thing was Theo's strongest ally.

The school bus hitched to a stop again, and Theo grinned as his ally stepped on.
He was a solid six feet tall. His face was done up in pale makeup, and he wore black lipstick. His leather jacket and all-black shirt and pants were ragged and full of what might be mistaken for dangerous apperances. His jet-black hair was arranged with a careful show of apathy, and he walked with all the powerful authority of someone who just doesn't care.
Jack Hells sat down next to Danny, sighed, and said, "still going out with that Jane chick?"
Danny nodded and Shelly rolled her eyes. If only she was allowed to possess her target.
Jack ignored Shelly pointedly. He could see her, but only he, she, and Theo knew it. "Still straight," Jack prodded.
Danny bobbed his head up and down while Theo climbed over and put a blessing on Jack. There was no way he was going to lose this ally. Everyone else was expendable, but not Jack.
Theo knew Jack's history, and Jack had a good reason to help him.
A very good reason.
-------------------------------------------------
First and foremost, Jack Hells was gay.
He had made this clear upon introducing himself to people since he was thirteen: "hi, I'm Jack, and I'm a homosexual."
It had been a little awkward at first, but eventually he had gotten used to it.
But then it happened.
In the middle of an intense fourteenth birthday on the town with Luke, his boyfriend at the time, Jack had noticed something odd.
He was hallucinating.
He had tried to ignore the voice in his ear, the pressure on his shoulder, and the vague-but-solidifying figure on his right shoulder that told him that a demon would come to make him sin, but soon, it had become too much.
Jack turned and screamed at the voice to shut up, and the whole theatre turned as one to stare at him.


Chapter three: Jane

Jack recalled it well.
He turned bright red. He knew because he could feel his face heating up.
It was at that moment that he first really saw Andrew.
Luke was staring at Jack and wondering why his boyfriend was staring so intently at his right shoulder. Jack was just staring into the bearded face of the white-robed man who stood on his shoulder. Andrew smiled.
"Well, I guess you can finally see me. That's good."
Jack whimpered once and ran from the theatre with Luke hot on his heels.
----------------------------------------------
Theo finished his blessing, hopped up on Jack's shoulder, whispered something in his ear, and hopped back.
When Jack had the lack of grace to look startled, he knew the jig was up.
"Jack," Danny whispered, "can you see them?"
Jack nodded.
"We're going to talk about this," Danny said.

As soon as the bus stopped and the two were clear of the road, Danny grabbed Jack by the arm and dragged him around a corner so they could talk.
"When were you going to tell me," Danny asked angrily.
Jack sighed and hung his head in what could only be called shame--a curious thing to see, considering his enormously powerful stature--and replied, "I didn't want to tell you that I knew they were there. I wanted you to think that I accepted you despite whatever fantasies you might delude yourself with. I'm sorry."
Danny was taken off-guard by the other man's honesty.
"I... I didn't know you wanted that badly to impress me," he said quietly. "But honestly, i would have been a little more impressed if I had known this from the beginning!"
That was when Danny noticed that Shelly wasn't there.
"Shit," he mumbled as he looked around for her. He didn't have to search for long.
"Danny, what the hell?"
He whipped around to find Jane staring at him with a furious expression on her face.
Shelly poofed back onto his left shoulder, looking smug.
"God," Jane shrieked," I don't talk to you for one measly day, and you turn around and do this? What did I ever do to you to deserve being... to deserve... this?"
With a start, Danny realized that she must have seen him drag Jack around the corner. All Shelly would have had to do was plant the idea in Jane's mind, and there it was.
Instant gay man, just add Queer Eye.
"Fuck," he said quietly.
Jack stepped around him and strode boldly forward to grab Jane by the arms and make her look him in the eyes.
"Jane," he said, "nothing happened. He needed to talk to me, that's it."
Jane would have none of it though.
"Bullshit," she screamed, and broke free of Jack's grasp, turned, and ran away.
Danny's response was immediate and unsurprising. He threw Shelly up against the wall. It took her several seconds to reappear, and she did so on Jack's shoulder.
Danny mumbled an obscenity and sank to the floor in a ball of tears as Jack returned to the little alcove where they had been talking.
Jack silently sat next to his friend.
After a few minutes, the silence was finally broken by an unwelcome voice.
"Looks like Jack finally roped himself another guy."
Danny's head snapped up, and he shot to his feet, swung out, and struck Big Moe Sylver so hard across the jaw that the large boy actually stumbled back a pace.
"You wanna say that again, asshole," Danny snapped.
"You're nothing, homo," Moe shot back. "I could kill you in my sleep."
Jack stood up.
He stepped forwards, one step at a time, an ominous pile of muscle advancing steadily towards a target.
"Moe, you're a head****ed loser. I wouldn't go after Danny if I were you. He's not gay. He's just my friend. But I still won't let anybody hurt him. You wanna threaten him, fine. You wanna hurt him, not so fine. I'll pound you into the ground, Sylver."
Moe looked nonplussed. At best.
"I'm gonna have to take you up on that offer, homoboy."
The crowd was already gathering.


Chapter four: Moe

Moe stepped forward and swung at Jack.
Jack ducked under and grabbed his arm, pinning it to his back in a powerful grip.
"****in' poor-ass homo!"
-----------------------------------
Three days after the theatre incident, Jack was miserable.
Luke had left him, citing "extreme mental instability" and "a geniune fear for life and limb" as his reasons. Jack supposed it was his fault, since he had started speaking angrily to the hallucination in a very public manner.
Jack was reflecting on all this when the smoke detector went off.
He swore and jumped up, just as another hallucination appeared on his left shoulder with a poof of fire and brimstone.
She was three inches tall, blonde, and, Jack supposed with a distant sort of detachment, rather attractive.
Then he remembered the alarm.
"You might wanna get out of here," the girl said. "Your house is burning down."
Jack sighed and started for the door.
"Not that way," she said as flames began to lick under the door.
Jack ran for the window and jumped out, breaking the glass and tumbling to the ground in a manner completely devoid of dignity. As he recovered his balance, he spotted his parents coming out of the house, and then the fire puffed up with a whoosh and began to consume the house wholesale. The property was gone in less than fifteen minutes, and with it most of the Hells' money.
-----------------------------
Jack pulled harder on Moe's arm.
"You wanna say that again, jackass?"
Moe winced and spat something rude at Jack.
Jack pulled again. Moe's grimace distended to a downright contortion of the face.
Suddenly, there was a hand on Jack's arm.
"You've made your point, Jack."
Jack turned his head, and there was Danny, his shoulderbuddies conspicuously missing, his right arm out to hold onto Jack's own powerful forearm, his left held up with the palm facing Jack.
"That's enough," he said. "You've made your point. Don't hurt him."
Jack sighed.
"You're right. This idiot isn't worth the time it'd take to snap his arms off."
He gave Moe's arm one last sharp tug and released him.
"Let's go, Danny. Nobody needs this jerk."
They walked away and left Theo and Shelly fighting on the floor. As they rounded the corner, Theo looked up and noticed they were gone, then popped over to Danny's shoulder, dragging Shelly along.
"That was really stupid, Jack," Danny said.
Jack shrugged and replied, "I like you enough to defend you."
Danny stopped short and grabbed Jack by the arm, causing him to swing around to face him.
Uncomfortably close.
"Just how much do you like me, Jack?"
Jack seemed to fidget for a second.
"Be honest."
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but shut it back up again.
"Well?"
Jack finally sighed and responded.
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
Danny's eyes went wide and he stepped back.
"You're really an idiot, you know that?"
Jack sighed.
"Yeah. I suppose you're gonna tell me off now, huh?"
Danny pulled him over to one side of the hall and leaned in closer.
"I'll almost certainly regret this, but no. You're an idiot, but dammit, you're my idiot."
Jack rolled his eyes.
"You just want me to protect you."
Danny shook his head and wrapped one hand around Shelly, holding her up in front of Jack's face.
"I don't know what I want. This bitch has got me so flustered that I can't tell up from left or down from back. Just pull me through it."
Jack stared at his friend.
"What are you saying?"


Chapter five: Jack

Danny sobbed quietly and rested a hand on Jack's chest.
"I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Just... help me through this bull****."
Jack started to speak, but was cut off by a harsh sound.
The bell.
Time for class.
They stared at each other for a minute.

Jack laughed as Danny sucked the last of his milkshake through the straw and modulated the sound like bad music.
It was an old trick, but sometimes those were the best.
"Hey Shelly," Danny said, "can you get us two more free milkshakes?"
She poofed away to comply, and Danny grinned.
He was so enjoying making her think that he was being seduced by the power she could offer, but he wished that Theo wasn't so uptight.
"Must you," Theo offered pathetically.
Jack leaned in and said, "yes."
The two laughed again, and Theo looked miserable.
"So what were you saying about your demon," Danny prodded.
Jack smiled.
"She was sent with a mission: she had to get me to steal something very large. I figured it out though."
--------------------------------------
The car was there for the taking.
Abby kept drawing Jack's attention to it.
He knew what she wanted him to do, that much was obvious, but why?
--------------------------------------
"It might have been too late, if Andrew hadn't said just the right thing."
-------------------------------------
"Dammit."
The despair in Andrew's voice was overwhelming as Jack considered the car with plenty of seriousness, and suddenly it dawned on him.
"This is why you're here, isn't it?"
Abby stared at him.
------------------------------------
"It would have solved all my problems. Nobody would have known it was me, and the sale would have gotten me out of trouble."
Danny grinned.
"But you didn't do it."
Jack grinned too.
"Exactly."
At that precise moment, the waitress approached the table.
She handed the two milkshakes over to Danny.
"This one," Danny said, "just makes me so mad. Sometimes, I just want to kill... to killl her."
The waitress jumped at the words as Shelly poofed back onto Danny's shoulder.
"Smooth," Shelly said as the waitress popped a can of mace out of her pocket.
She aimed it at Danny.
Danny turned to his left shoulder.
"Is that why you're here?"
Shelly disappeared with an obscenity, and Theo whispered something into Danny's ear before he disappeared as well, but only to Jack's shoulder.
"I couldn't have done it without you, buddy," Theo whispered into Jack's ear as the waitress stood there looking very puzzled. "Danny had started taking a knife to school. I think he would have stabbed Moe."
Jack's face almost fell as Theo disappeared again, this time in a burst of light that everybody in the little malt shop saw.
Danny's grin could have chased away a bad day faster than a shot of pure happy.
"They're gone," he muttered. Then, louder, he said, "they're gone. They're GONE!"
He bounded clear over the table and threw his arms in the air.
"GONE!"
He grabbed Jack by the shoulders and pulled him up to his level, threw both arms around the larger man's six-foot frame, kissed him in an exuberant fit of happiness, and screamed.
"THEY'RE GONE!"
Danny's insistent happiness served only to confuse everyone around him, except for Jack.
"You're still straight, aren't you," Jack asked.
Danny leaped into the air, clicked his heels together, proclaimed the goneness of his Conscience once more, and replied, "I don't care right now! I'm just alone!"


Chapter six: Lu

Shelly returned in shame to the bleached corridors of Hell.
The lemon-scented cleaner assaulted her nostrils as she traipsed to her debriefing, opened the door, and sat at the long oak conference table.
The door on the other side of the room creaked open and a man in a crisp white suit stepped through.
Shelly swallowed a lump that had rather suddenly formed in her throat.
-------------------------------------
"Call me Lu."
That line was heard by every resident of Hades at one time or another. Nobody but the bravest called him Lu. Lucifer was just too scary. With his well-tanned arms and his white suit, his neat-trimmed nails and well-groomed hair, his handsome looks and his five-foot-four-inch frame, the Plutonian Overlord of Hades could pass through his own fires unscathed, swim unscalded in his vats of acid, and even play a mean game of chess with Hitler.
The first time Shelly saw him, she thought she knew her purpose in death.
She wanted to get close to Lucifer.
--------------------------------------
Lucifer cleared his throat.
"Shelly Smith?"
She swallowed again and said in a small voice, "yes sir."
"Call me Lu," he said.
Shelly leaned back in her chair and said, "okay, Lu."
-------------------------------------
Jack stared into Danny's eyes.
Danny stared right back.
Their gazes locked as one, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through their heads as they stared.
Jack blinked.
Danny jumped up and whooped in triumph.
-----------------------------------
Theo sat on the ground across from Jesus, in the presence of God and the Spirit, apicture of serenity.
Jesus looked at him and said quietly, "good job, Theo. You've earned this, you know."
Jesus tossed a shining golden ring at Theo, and Theo caught it with perfect deftness and settled his halo atop his head.
----------------------------------
"Call me whatever you want."
That line was Christ's litany. He bummed around the Pearly Gates most days, but sometimes he interviewed new angels.
The Big Jay-Cee matched his nickname. He was almost seven feet tall, with long, flowing red hair, and a righteous set of sideburns. His beard was a well-groomed mass of dyed-blonde-awesome, and his hazel eyes seemed to pour out a calm intensity.
His ratty jeans clung tight to his legs, and his tight-fitting tie-dyed shirt proudly displayed a well-muscled torso. His feet were always bare, and he was usually followed by Judas, his faithful Great Dane.
He spoke like a potheaded peacenick, but nobody took that image to be the full depth of Jesus Christ.
They knew he could fight his way out of any situation.
Death included.
------------------------------
Danny and Jack strolled lazily down the sidewalk, talking excitedly about the movie.
"I can't belive how great that was! I always thought old films were crap!"
Danny grinned.
"You need to expand your horizons my friend."
The sunset was still creeping up on them as they walked past the park, past the tiny commercial district, and to Danny's front door.
"So," Jack said, "What is this?"
Danny sighed.
"What do you mean?"
Jack laughed and said, "you know what I mean. You've been confusing the hell out of me, Danny boy."
Danny grinned.
"Oh, I'm perfectly aware of that. In fact, it's my goal."
Danny opened the door and slipped inside, waving to Jack as he went through.
Jack turned and walked away, muttering to himself, "he's teasing me. Dammit, he's teasing me."


Chapter seven: Danny

The next day was Saturday.
Danny was awakened in the early morning by an impact on his shoulder, and for a moment he was afraid that Shelly and Theo had returned.
Then he realized that it was the phone.
"Your friend Jack is no longer allowed to call here before noon," Danny's mother said as she stalked out of his bedroom.
"Jack," Danny mumbled into the phone, "I'm going to kill you. But first I must sleep. Get this over with."
Jack's voice was set and determined. Danny could picture the look on his face.
"I'm buying tickets to a concert. You're coming with me"
Danny's voice reached a new level of resignment.
"I suppose I no choice."
He could almost hear Jack grinning.
"Not if you insist on teasing me. You want to go to Sundown or Saint Sebastian's Nightclub?"

Sundown was an excellent band.
Danny decided this within ten minutes of arriving. They fit with his almost-retro style of music perfectly. They sang whatever the fuck they felt like singing, and he enjoyed it thoroughly, but Jack's insistence on slipping an arm over his shoulders was, to say the least, distracting.
After about the third time Jack slipped his left arm over to Danny's shoulder, Danny whirled around and pulled him close.
"Look," he hissed, "I've had things on my shoulders for the last two years. Get off the shoulders."
Jack stared at him.
"But... but I..."
Danny rolled his eyes and grabbed Jack's arm.
"Here," he said, wrapping Jack's left arm not over his shoulder, but around his waist while cautioning himself not to enjoy playing with the poor boy's mind too much.
By the end of the night, that wouldn't matter.

Jack was a happy man. Whatever it was that had made him persistent had also given him a subtlety that always seemed to work in his favor.
Of course, He really wasn't thinking about this as Daniel Hulgan pressed into his chest a little harder.
"Why didn't I do this years ago," Danny wondered aloud as he stood up on his toes to plant another gentle kiss on Jack's lips.
Jack just grinned and replied, "you didn't know me years ago."
Seeking privacy, they pressed over towards the mens' room door, and then Danny stopped short.
"Holy shit," he exclaimed.
Jack turned around.
There was Moe Sylver, looking miserable, with two tiny figures perched on his shoulders.
He spotted the two in their unaccustomed embrace and almost started laughing, and then one of the tiny figures disappeared.
Jack walked away and started towards Moe with his arms outstretched.
Danny's eyes narrowed as he realized that one of the figures had a feminine form.
"Shelly," he said quietly, and reached out to grab Jack's arm, then changed his mind, jumped on Jack from behind, and pulled his possessed gay friend to the ground.
"Ow," Jack snapped. "Where's Theo when you need him?"
Danny looked up at the astonished Moe.
"You look like you could use some help," he said.
Moe's eyes went wider than Danny had ever seen anyone's eyes get in his life.
"You can see them?"
Jack nodded.
"You may want to buy a dollhouse to keep your demon in."


Chapter eight: Adolf Hitler

"Hit him. Hit the faggot."
Jan's insistent pushing towards violence had begun to wear on Moe's nerves early on.
"What did I do to deserve this," he asked in a quiet, ever-suffering voice.
Danny just smiled.
"Wouldn't you like to know? Actually, so would we, but as far as I can tell, people don't 'do' anything to deserve it. It just... happens." As he spoke the last word, Danny's shoulders went up in an automatic shrug.
"Hey, Dannyboy, you wanna Coke?"
Danny turned around and grinned as Jack held up a can of Vanilla Coke.
"Toss it here," he said, and Jack did just that, tossing the can expertly to Daniel's waiting hands.
"You want one, Moe?"
Moe shook his head in a numb refusal. He still couldn't get the unpleasant image of these two out of his head.
Huddled together in a corner, God-only-knows-what--he pushed the thought out of his head.
Moe sighed.
"What can I do to get rid of them?"
Jack's head popped out of the kitchen again as he replied, "you gotta figure out what the demon's trying to get you to do. I doubt that guessing games will work."
Moe looked puzzled.
"The demon's trying to make me do something? Wait a minute." He looked around nervously. "Where is she?"
As he voiced the question, Katie Sylver, Moe's mother, came in with a paring knife in one hand and her arm arced overhead.
"No, mom!" Moe bounded across the table as Toby pounced onto Katie's arm and scrambled up to her shoulder, his hands aglow.
The knife nicked Danny's left ear at about the same time as Toby succeeded in banishing Jan from Moe's suddenly bewildered mother.
Danny jumped about a foot straight up, and shouted in rage and pain as his ear began to bleed.
-----------------------------
Shelly stared at Lucifer.
Lucifer stared at Shelly.
Their gazes were locked in a strange sort of wordless argument.
"They are aware of the mission of the Demonic Disorder."
Shelly jumped.
"I always knew that Jack had that figured out, but... what damage can they do?"
Lucifer's eyes seemed to light up as he snapped at her, "they are interfering with plans of your great-aunt Jan as we speak!"
His fists pounded down on the table, which promptly burst into flames. Breakfast conversations were usually a bit kinder than this, and occasionally much kinder, as they occasionally dissolved into sex.
"Shit," Lu muttered.
Shelly patted out the flames and ignored the agony that sprang up in her hands.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
Lucifer's eyes became glowing pits of anger.
"You expect me to trust you with the power of a full demon? You were barely able to make Hulgan contemplate murder. I would have sent you to the Pits, but for your appetites. You may yet find yourself imprisoned in the bowels of Hell. No, I will send another Demon. I will send a full demon. I will send..." and he snapped his fingers.
A whirlwind of fire popped out of the dining room floor as a charming young man popped into existence.
His long blonde hair and scraggly blonde beard gave him a youthful appearance that was in severe contradiction to his age.
"I will send Adolf Hitler."
---------------------------
Adolf Hitler had won acclaim as a speaker when he lived, and just as he lived, so had he been in death: a brilliant speaker.
He had persuaded his first "project" not only to steal, but then to murder, and had gained demonhood with dominion over fire.
His second victim had been none other than Osama Bin Laden. The man had cracked under the pressure to blaspheme faster than any other blasphemer in human history, and had consequentially overcompensated by launching a holy war. Hitler, meanwhile, had gained demonhood over fear.
Finally, he had gone for possession. After about three minutes, Hitler's victim had stolen hundreds of dollars from a local Wal-mart. Of course, the goal was rape, but the route that Hitler took led through dozens of other crimes and provided a flair that Lucifer had admired so much he had granted Hitler one boon to go with his full demonhood.
Hitler had asked to match his ideal human image.
He was now tall, blonde haired, and blue-eyed.
Perfect.
----------------------------
"Adolf?"
"Lu?"
Lucifer smiled. He had always liked Adolf's spunk.
"You know of Jan's predicament?"
Hitler grinned.
"May I manifest solidly?"
Lucifer laughed.
"I wouldn't ask you to manifest any other way. You will live for six days. Should you accomplish your goal in less, you may use the rest of your time however you see fit. Make moe Sylver commit adultery."


Chapter nine: Gabriel

Wherever Adolf Hitler went, he was always noticed.
"Oh," people would say, "what a handsome young man that boy is. How dashing, how charming, how downright friendly he is."
This was something that he had gotten used to during his first assignment on Earth, shortly after he achieved his full Demonhood.
It had never happened in his life. In life, he had always been "that little guy with the funny moustache."
Adolf liked his new image, and although it saddened him to discover that it was rarely called the perfect human form, he did enjoy that it was never scorned.
Of course, he could never introduce himself by his real name, and he usually had to come up with a new name every time that he came back to the Earth.
"Micheal Enod," he muttered to himself as he appeared in a pentagram of fire in an alley near the house of Moe Sylver. "Call me Mike."
Adolf/Mike walked down the street until he found the place by the pull of Jan's evil energy.
Angels couldn't spot him, and they couldn't defend against what they didn't know was a problem.
Mike already had a plan in mind.
----------------------------------
DING DONG
Moe sighed and looked up as the doorbell started off strong, then fell into a repeating loop of sound and gradually trailed off into nothing.
"Gotta fix that," he muttered as he stood up and went to answer the door.
A tall blonde stood there, his icy blue eyes almost seeming to search actively for something, hell if Moe knew what.
He looked to be about eighteen at the youngest, but he could have been as old as twenty-five.
"Hi," he said. "I'm here because I'm getting some serious Demonic pull from this house."
Moe stared at him. A week ago, he would have clocked this boy one across the face and returned to the kitchen. Instead, he sighed.
"What's your name?"
"Mike Enod. Mike Adolf Enod. People always ask about the middle name, and I'll tell you right now: yes, I was named after Adolf Hitler. My parents were very racist, and they especially hated the Jews. I don't like to talk about it, so I get it out of the way as soon as I meet people."
Moe sighed even more heavily.
"You said you felt a Demon pull?"
Mike nodded happily.
"Yes sir, I help people to deal with Consciences, those irritating little Demon-Angel pairs that sit on the shoulders and yap at you. You see, young man, I'm a psychic--I have been all my life, and I can help you to get rid of that pesky little pair on your shoulders."
Moe's right eyebrow went up.
"How did you know it was me?"
Mike almost made the mistake of stammering for the answer, but stopped himself and replied, "they usually attack teens. You're right in the age range."
-----------------------
Perhaps Angels couldn't spot Adolf Hitler, but the Holy Trinity and some of the Saints sure could.
When Saint Peter rushed into God The Father's private theatre and announced that Adolf Hitler was on the Earth again, God dropped His popcorn.
He stood up and started barking orders while His long white robes shimmered in the air around Him, and His countenance did the usual terrifying beauty thing.
"Get Gabriel in here, on the double, and where is my Son? I need the Communion of Saints called to order right now. Ignatius of Antioch, get your blessed butt moving!"
-----------------------
When Gabriel heard that Hitler was on the Earth again, he nearly flipped out.
The last time Hitler was loose, he caused thirty-eight deaths.
"Where is he," Gabriel asked as he strode into the conference room.
Jesus looked up, all business, and said, "we don't know. The Holy Spirit is working on pinpointing him right now, but He might not be able to find him. We may have to send you down with a general area to look in."
As Jesus spoke, Judas came around the table and rested his head on Gabriel's knee, drooling profusely.
"Off," Gabriel snapped absentmindedly, scolding the big dog and snapping his fingers to point him elsewhere. "How long do we have?"
God spoke up in reply.
"I just got off the phone with Lucifer. He says that Hitler will be on the Earth for six days, but that if we interfere, his stay will be extended indefinitely."
As He spoke, a large tongue of flame burst into the room and the Holy Spirit made His usual dramatic entrance.
"I found him," the Spirit declared. "Jesus, you remember Theo?"
Jesus grinned.
"Theo? With Danny Hulgan and Jack Hells, right? They're working together to help others with... he's going after Moe Sylver?"
The Holy Spirit nodded.
"Apparently, he's been sent to make sure that Sylver commits his sin. Because Hulgan and Hells are helping Sylver, Lucifer has free reign tosend whomever he wants, but there's a loophole: we can send a qualified angel so long as he is accompanied by a neutral party."
All eyes in the room turned to Gabriel.
"Why do I get a bad feeling about this," he lamented.


Chapter ten: Judas

Gabriel's bad feelings were rarely wrong.
This was no exception.
Judas was, arguably, a neutral party; as an animal, he had no alliegences, but the fact remained that he had been trained.
"If this doesn't start a war, it'll be a miracle. What the heck was He thinking, sending Jesus' dog as a neutral party?"
Gabriel stopped talking to himself as he passed a group of girls who appeared to be gossiping about someone named Jake and someone else named Samantha.
Tried to pass a group of girls.
"Oh," one of the more obnoxious-voiced ones exclaimed, "what a sweet puppy! What's his name?"
Gabriel turned aropund, expecting to see them fawning over a small dog that had escaped his notice.
No such luck.
Judas the Great Dane stood on the sidewalk, basking in the glow of the attention he was receiving from the half-dozen girls. How they had come to the conclusion that the massive pile of dog before should be called a "puppy" was beyond Gabriel's considerable powers of comprehension.
"His name is Judas," Gabriel said.
"Isn't he a Great Dane, like Scooby Doo," one of the girls asked.
Gabriel nodded. Why did children always glom onto him? Granted, these were more adolescents than children, but the fact remains, they had glommed onto him.
"I'm sorry, girls, I really must be going, but perhaps we'll meet again sometime."
He didn't add the truth of his sincere hope that the occasion of a second meeting did not come until they were dead.
The girls sadly departed and Gabriel tapped his leg to call Judas to his side as he walked on towards Moe Sylver's house.
---------------------------
Jan looked up from her fight with Toby and her jaw dropped when the handsome figure of Adolf Hitler strode into the kitchen.
"Ow," Danny said calmly as Katie Sylver wrapped a bandage around his ear.
"I don't know what came over me," she said. "I just suddenly felt like I should probably chase you off or something. It was like I was possessed, like I wasn't in control of my own actions."
Danny sighed.
"Maybe you weren't," he said.
"She wasn't."
The smooth voice from behind him startled Danny to no end. There was just some subtle quality about it that was a little unsettling.
He turned around.
"Hi, my name is Micheal Enod, but you can call me Mike. I'm a wandering psychic, and this is about the worst Conscience Demon I've ever seen."
Jan's face fell when she heard those words, but she figured out that it was all show pretty quickly, and that it wasn't actually a criticism of her own work, anyways.
"Yah," Katie said quietly. "Sure."
Mike laughed.
"Most people are skeptical at first, but then I show them this."
He snapped his fingers and a plume of flame erupted from his hand, rose to the ceiling, and stayed there, burning nothing, but not going out.
"Make it stop," Katie squealed in protest.
Mike dismissed the fire with a wave of his hand.
"I'm here to help your son to get rid of the Demon that's attacking him."
Even as he spoke, the doorbell rang again.
"I suppose that's one of your friends," Mrs. Sylver said sarcastically as Moe went to check, but her prediction was quite incorrect: a minute or so later, Moe came in, followed by a huge Great Dane and an impressively built man.
"Hi there," the man said, casting Mike a suspicious glance. "My name is Gabriel, and I'm here to help you with your Demon problem." He gestured to the dog, which was looking dumber than usual as he tried to get a good sniff at the tray of cookies on the kitchen counter. "This is Judas, he'll be helping me out." Gabriel noticed what Judas was doing. "Judas," he snapped, "down!"
Danny stood up, grabbed Jack by the hand, and dragged him through the nearest door.
"I don't like this," Danny said.
Jack nodded.
"I agree completely, Dannyboy. At least one of those guys is full of bull****. Personally, I think that Gabriel is trying too hard to look good."
Danny's face screwed itself up into a doubtful expression.
"I dunno, I don't like that Enod character. There's just something awfully familiar about him, and not in a good way. You kinda get the sense that he's used to having things go exactly the way he says they will. Like a dictator or something."
Jack peeked around the corner. Mike and Gabriel were locked in an argument.
"Well," Jack said, "I can tell you one thing: they're not working together."
Oops.

I shouldn't have told you that last part.
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Post by I Am Spartacus »

Shelly sighed heavily.
"Why can't I ever succeed?" Her question echoed off the walls of the dollhouse and she walked to the window and rattled the bars of mystical energy that held her inside her tiny plastic prison.This sentence is way too long. Writing should be as concise as possible.
Their weakening was tiny, but perceptible. She couldn't bring them down overnight, however.Who is they?
"**** Theo," she shouted, and the only reply was, "not interested, thank you very much." In dialogue, two people speaking should always be separated by a line. When there's a change in speaker, start a new line.
Theo was such a prick.
Such an annoying, goody-two-shoes, tiny-penis, good-for-nothing, gives-blowjobs-to-horses prick.Too much useless information. We didn't need this line to know he isn't the nicest guy in the world. You already demonstrated that with the dialogue. Show us how he's a prick, don't tell us.
Shelly turned and went to sleep on the hard plastic bed, all the time wishing that Ken dolls had genitals.Why?

When the dollhouse turned over on its side and dumped Shelly against the mystical bars at the windows, she swore profusely.How can window bars be mystical? Excessive verbosity.
Her only power for retribution would be to posess Danny's girlfriend.How? Why?
"I knew I should have chosen a real power," she muttered. You have yet to offer us any meaningful clues as to who the characters are, and the reader has no reason to keep reading. The first chapter should always grab the reader by the balls and force them to keep reading. The reader is vaguely aware that they're dolls, but at this rate the reader is prone to miss all sorts of information as he's going to skim large portions of it.

Lucifer was underrated.Who is Lucifer? Do you mean for us to take this title literally?
That was all Shelly Smith could think when she descended into the spitshine-clean, lemony-fresh, uglier-than-hairy-manbutt corridfors of Hell's assignment area.Again, way too much useless information. You don't need to go to such great lengths to show us that the place is clean. It's not an important detail.
She had applied for demonhood three years ago, and was finally being brought up for review.
She had already been given her assignment: Danny Hulgan was to be made to commit a murder, and not in self-defense.How does she get an assignment before she's even been granted status as a demon? This makes no sense.
Bob, the guy in front of her, was too chatty and pervy, and his assignment was ground into her brain, but he said it again. after two weeks in the waiting room, even this Danny fellow could have killed him.The way this scene is written, I'm under the impression she is in the room with him for all of two minutes. How does his assignment become ground into her brain over that period of time? How does she come to know and loathe him so intimately in two minutes? If she's waiting for three hours, you need to communicate that at some point.
Bob prattled on.
"So I've got to get this Jake kid to rape someone. I'm gonna apply for firedemonship. You say you're gonna be a possesor?"
Shelly hit him.Why does Shelley hit him? At this point, she sounds like she has serious anger issues. I'm under the impression that she's the prick here, and I have no sympathy for her at all. All Bob's been doing is trying to talk to her, so I feel sorry for someone I'm supposed to dislike.
"YES. SHUT THE ******* HELL UP, YOU RETARDED APE!"There's no need to capitalize all of this. It doesn't add anything. An exclamation point is all that you need to tell us that she's yelling. Swearing is also unnecessary here.
That was when they finally called Bob through, and then Shelly.
She never saw the ass again.
Thankfully.This sentence is fragmented. Also, how are they called in such short sequence? Are there more than one bigwigs at this office?
She was ushered into the office of a possesor named June. June had a massive beehive haircut, chewed gum that, by the smell, was butt-flavored, and spoke in an annoying drone.You tell us what her voice sounds like before she utters a line.
"So you want to posses people?"
Shelly nodded, and June raised an eyebrow.
"Speak up. Possesors must be assertive. Nod again, and I'll send you to Sub-Hell."
Shelly grinned and leaned over the desk. She grabbed June by the collar and pulled her close.
"You wanna control me, go ahead, but you're gonna pay for it, you got me? I'd kill you, but that would be redundant. Now stick your attitude up your ass!"
June smiled.
"You might have the right stuff to be a possesor."The main character (who I'm assuming is Shelley) lacks any kind of cohesion. In one part, she's ignoring someone and silently wishing he'd just go away. In another, she's swearing and yelling all over the place. I'd tell you that a professional would never conduct herself in such a manner, but I have no real idea who Shelly is or what she's doing. You say she wants to be a possessor and that she's going to kill someone. Why? How? Who is she?
This may be fanfic, but you need to strive to communicate more concisely. Writers are lovers of words, but we often forget that the ultimate goal of any piece of writing is to convey information. If you err too greatly on the side of verbosity, it will cause a reader's eyes to glaze over, and they will start to skim through chunks of your work.

After every single sentence, check that, every single word, you have to ask yourself whether it's necessary or not. If the answer is no, tear it down and replace it with something shorter, or just tear it down. With fiction writing, less is always more.

If you're going to write about an anti-hero, you have to toe the line very carefully. From the look of it, you give us no reason to sympathise with the evil characters. On the contrary, thus far I would cheer if a piano dropped from the sky and killed Shelly.

Lastly, and this is just my personal opinion, there's way too much foul language throughout the piece. Cut down on it, it's not necessary.

I would critique the rest, but my eyes kept glazing over as I tried to read more. You need to cut a lot out of this, there's way too much information, and quite a few spelling and grammatical errors.

Hope this helps.
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Post by Dean Martlou »

actually, you're supposed to loathe her.
she doesn't last for even five full chapters, and although she shows up again, it's in a bit role present for comic relief. Shelly's got her own style, which influences narration and is, by no means, proffessional.
in order to truly get what i'm doing, you have to follow my recommendation and read the work i linked to.
honestly, this isn't my best work, anyways.
Oops.

I shouldn't have told you that last part.
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Post by I Am Spartacus »

Never open a work with a supporting character. It's simply not done. The first chapter should feature the main character, front and centre.

But like I said, you need to cut down on excessive wordiness. Throughout the work you posted, there's way too much useless information. You stop to emphasize details which are completely unimportant. I must emphasize once again, cut down on the foul language. Ideally, you shouldn't have any at all.

And the site you linked to requires registration. Requiring people to read someone else's work before they're able to understand yours is superbad. Your work should stand by itself, fanfic or not.
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Post by Dean Martlou »

eh. mostly, i wanted to share my crap, which is an understandable urge.

my favorite character is Judas.
Oops.

I shouldn't have told you that last part.
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Post by Tsukiyumi »

Drake: Fanfic or not, this was obviously based on personal feelings, which are the real basis for true storytelling. I was easily able to read the entirety of it, and found myself engaged, despite feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the theme (religion). It's an interesting take on the concept.

Spartacus: I will now civilly deconstruct your criticisms. Verbosity may be unnecessary in most situations, but colorful descriptions help set mood and describe scenes.

As an example: You are wrong. As opposed to: I find your statements inaccurate, and you are obviously influenced by conformal standards.

See how much more information I was able to convey with only ten more words?

I do wholeheartedly agree that excessive wordiness will distract the average reader. I like to make things as efficient as possible. However, when writing from the perspective of a character, you should always make things as simple or complex as their thought processes dictate.

I agree with the lack of sympathetic 'evil' characters. However, he is obviously not finished. There may be a key scene that changes your perspective. Sometimes it's okay to cheer when the bad guy 'gets a piano dropped on their head'.

You certainly can't criticize a work because of profanity. Real people speak and think with a vast repertoire of various 'colorful' words; your characters should represent yourself and real people as much as is appropriate and realistic.

Your eyes glazed over? I had no trouble reading this in about four minutes, with full retention. I think that might be a question of how interested the reader is in the concept and execution. Sort of like movies that critics don't like, but can't recall any details from. You'll probably 'glaze over' this as well, right?

Now for my favorite part...
Never open a work with a supporting character. It's simply not done. The first chapter should feature the main character, front and centre.


This is patent nonsense. Did you learn this in a writing workshop, or a college course? Or is this simply your opinion? You can use a supporting (or expendable) character to explain the world your main character is operating in without useless exposition. Thinking inside the box is one of the primary reasons that books are taking an abrupt back-seat position to TV and movies.

Drake: Keep writing, and practice your own style. Don't let anyone tell you precicely how to write; it saps the creativity and originality from your work. Of course, always consider criticism, and remember not to degenerate into rambling passages that require a cypher to decode; neither should you ridgedly conform into some mold: characters, plot and mood should all be based on your own personal feelings.

Spartacus: 'Useless information' is subjective, isn't it? Perhaps it has bearing on the rest of the story. He didn't, after all, stop to describe the surroundings in any detail. That's something I would've pointed out, as it detracts from the reader's ability to visualize the scene.

Just my two cents... Or five dollars, depending how you see it, I suppose.
There is only one way of avoiding the war – that is the overthrow of this society. However, as we are too weak for this task, the war is inevitable. -L. Trotsky, 1939
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Post by I Am Spartacus »

Tsukiyumi wrote: I do wholeheartedly agree that excessive wordiness will distract the average reader. I like to make things as efficient as possible. However, when writing from the perspective of a character, you should always make things as simple or complex as their thought processes dictate.
Our use of the word "excessive" implies that it's too much, and excessive verbosity is always bad.

Take this line for example:

"Such an annoying, goody-two-shoes, tiny-penis, good-for-nothing, gives-blowjobs-to-horses prick."

Why is that necessary? It's very crude, way too profane, and there's too much useless information there. Here's a way he could have said it much better:

"This was a man who would think nothing of reporting his own co-workers for the slightest violation of the most arbitrary code."

Conveys basically the same intent, but is not profane or crude in the slightest. Still a little too verbose for my tastes, but then again I'm not going to spend a lot of time thinking up a better line just for the purposes of this discussion.
I agree with the lack of sympathetic 'evil' characters. However, he is obviously not finished. There may be a key scene that changes your perspective. Sometimes it's okay to cheer when the bad guy 'gets a piano dropped on their head'.
Well considering that I was given no real reason to read any further than I did, any forthcoming scenes are irrelevant. Again, just my opinion, and I assume that anyone angling for criticism can put it in context: that it just may be that one person's criticism, and that unless the criticism is repeated by more than one person, you can safely assume that it's just my opinion. I assume that he's mature enough to understand that.
You certainly can't criticize a work because of profanity. Real people speak and think with a vast repertoire of various 'colorful' words; your characters should represent yourself and real people as much as is appropriate and realistic.
There was plenty of profanity throughout the entire piece, not just in the dialogue. Depending on the context, profanity in the dialogue is tolerable, but since (during the parts that I could read) he was trying to, as near as I could tell, convey a sense of order and bureaucracy, profanity was out of place there. Think about it. If you walked into an IRS building, would you expect employees there to be swearing at one another? Would you feel uncomfortable or offended if they did? Leave the profanity where it's appropriate.
Your eyes glazed over? I had no trouble reading this in about four minutes, with full retention. I think that might be a question of how interested the reader is in the concept and execution. Sort of like movies that critics don't like, but can't recall any details from. You'll probably 'glaze over' this as well, right?
I dunno, the flaws I perceived just built themselves up way too quickly for me to consider reading any further. I can't read something where the author needs to resort to crude and profane language to get the message across. As I said earlier, in dialogue, depending on the context, it can be okay, but there's no need to use crude and/or profane language during the rest of the text. It just comes off as immature.

This is patent nonsense. Did you learn this in a writing workshop, or a college course? Or is this simply your opinion? You can use a supporting (or expendable) character to explain the world your main character is operating in without useless exposition. Thinking inside the box is one of the primary reasons that books are taking an abrupt back-seat position to TV and movies.
No, the reason TV and movies have overtaken literature is the innate human tendency towards sloth. Few people want to spend days reading through a 400 page novel when they can get the same entertainment from a 2 hour movie or a 30 minute TV program.

And yeah, it's my opinion, so I'd love for you to be a bit less rude. When I pick up a novel, I want to be immersed straightaway in the world it's depicting, including the main character. I want action right from the get go. I don't want useless infodumps.
Spartacus: 'Useless information' is subjective, isn't it? Perhaps it has bearing on the rest of the story. He didn't, after all, stop to describe the surroundings in any detail. That's something I would've pointed out, as it detracts from the reader's ability to visualize the scene.
Sure he did. Look at this line:

"against the mystical bars at the windows,"

How can bars be mystical? Without more information, this is useless.

"That was all Shelly Smith could think when she descended into the spitshine-clean, lemony-fresh, uglier-than-hairy-manbutt corridfors of Hell's assignment area. "

Way too many words to say that it's clean, and again, far too profane.

Etc.
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Post by Tsukiyumi »

All good points, Spartacus, and I apologize for being rude. I merely dislike confomal thinking when it comes to writing, thus I plan to take psychology in college rather than literature or any writing classes.

And, I agree that profanity should be reserved for dialogue or thoughts, not descriptive passages (which, as I said, were rather limited).

The IRS is a rather appropriate analogy for Hell (as would be DMV, or the dentist), by the way. Although, I don't see myself walking into an IRS building anytime soon. :wink: I'm planning to write my future taxes out of existence by giving to charities and non-profits.
There is only one way of avoiding the war – that is the overthrow of this society. However, as we are too weak for this task, the war is inevitable. -L. Trotsky, 1939
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