hellzabeth: (>Konata: brain capacity overload)
[personal profile] hellzabeth
Title: Monster Mash 12

Characters: Francis, Alfred, Ida, Lydia, Heracles

Rating: 15

Warnings: Alfred is still a creeper.

Summary: Originally inspired by this. (Link to pic for those who don't have Pixiv here.) Due to popular demand, what was a oneshot has now spawned a fic.

Francis bolted with speed he didn’t know he could possess (and there was a pun in there somewhere) up the rest of the stairs and around the corner where the hallway started. He peered around the corner, using the dimness of the house’s old and failing lights to hide and still examine their new “guests”. Alfred was currently blocking the door, however, peering round the side like some kind of nervous teenager left home alone by his parents. The boy was an actor indeed.

“Um, I really shouldn’t let you in...” he mumbled, sounding younger than he actually was. “I mean, I know it’s really snowy out there and all - why are you guys even out in this weather? - but my parents said nobody’s allowed in since the last time I had a party and kind of trashed the place.” he chuckled sheepishly, playing the part to a T.

“Please, just for a little while.” said the soft-spoken female voice again. Alfred looked back, up the stairs at him momentarily, and Francis ducked out of sight again. “We’ll just warm up, and perhaps... use your bathroom?”

“We’re not gonna be a bother or nothing, honest.” chirped a slightly more cheerful voice. Francis noted they didn’t exactly sound English, despite their fluency with the language. “Pretty please, prav?”

Alfred shifted about, and then sighed. “Okay, okay, alright. But if you guys are actually thieves or whatever my dad has a shotgun and a license to shoot it.”

’Or rather, you have a chainsaw and are crazy enough to hack two Hunters to bits.’ Francis thought to himself. If Alfred did in fact attack the Hunters, Francis would have to make a hasty retreat. Coming across a teenage psychopath was one thing. Coming across a teenage psychopath harboring a ghost was another entirely. The entire organisation would rain down fury on the house and the surrounding area. They’d been known to turn entire cities upside down in their extermination of the supernatural.

Discretely as possible, Francis peeked around the corner again to see what they were up against.

Surprisingly, there were not two, but three newcomers. The one that had not spoken and thus had not been noted while out of sight, was a tall, tanned male, with dark curling hair in a haphazard mop on his head. He looked half asleep and went through the motions of taking off his coat like it was the most arduous task in the world. But the removing of the snow-soaked garment revealed densely packed, well shaped muscles, a toned physique not expected of any sort of “witness”. He glanced around, looking bored, and Francis realised with a cold thud of dread that this was more than just any old hunter. Even he had heard of Heracles Karpusi. A man who seemed so peaceful and unaware, when in reality he was a deadly force to be reckoned with, coming from a long family line of Greek Hunters stretching back to ancient times. Many young and inexperienced creatures looking for glory would try their hand at killing this man for boasting rights, and just as many died trying. Francis prayed that he hadn’t already been noticed. If he had, he was dead... Deader.

The other two, the girls, didn’t help matters in the slightest. Francis prided himself on having an eye for beauty, and who could forget a sight like Lydia Biely, with her long sandy blonde hair falling down her back, and her modest clothing doing nothing to hide the assets that God had gifted her with. She came from nowhere, rising from obscurity in the tiny Slovakian branch to the world expert in exorcisms. And of course, you couldn’t have Lydia without having her partner and best friend right behind her. Ida Dusek, shorter than Lydia by a head and a half but with similar blonde hair and glittering grey eyes, was not to be underestimated. Despite her young age and slight frame, her skills had resulted in the near extermination of all the werewolves in the Czech Republic in just under 5 years.

Francis could safely say that he was well and truly fucked now.

“Okay, you guys go sit in the library or something, the fire’s on in there and you can hang your coats up next to it.” Alfred said, keeping a close eye on them without dropping his act. “Don’t drip on any of the expensive books or anything okay? Mom will kill me.”

‘Arthur will certainly do something drastic if he finds Hunters in his house when he comes home.’ Francis thought, and then immediately ducked back behind the wall as Lydia’s gaze moved around the room. She was an exorcist. The best. God only knew if she was so good that she could sense possession on the spot or not; Francis personally hoped that was just urban legend.

“We’re not gonna steal or break anything, prav.” Ida said, rumored verbal tic confirmed. It would be cute if Francis wasn’t so busy trying not to breathe too loudly. “They won’t even know we were here.”

“Well good, because I will be in such deep shit if they did.” Alfred closed the door, the latch clicking with a terrible finality. Now, all there was to see was which of these different types of hunter would become the hunted. “So, what are your names? You first, quiet dude, you’ve not said anything. Kinda rude.”

“... Heracles Karpusi.” the hunter in question said quietly, not timid or nervous, just quiet. Alfred’s face lit up.

“Hercules? Seriously? That is probably one of the coolest names ever! And woah, you’re ripped! Are you like super strong like Herc as well? I bet you could pick me up with one hand, haha, wow.” the teen babbled. Lydia covered her mouth to hide a smile, and Ida was snickering openly. Heracles’ expression had done nothing but shift into a slight frown.

“It’s Hera-”

“So how about the lovely ladies?” Alfred cut over him, sidling up to Lydia and Ida. “What’re your names?”

“I’m Ida, she’s Lydia!” the shorter of the two chirped, grabbing Alfred’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure to meet you, prav!”

“I’m Alfred Williams, welcome to my sorta-humble abode!” Alfred laughed in reply, herding the group towards the library. Francis shook his head at the teen’s replacement surname.

“Humble? This place is huuuuuuuge!” Cried Ida, spreading her arms out and spinning. “Did your parents re-decorate this place themselves?”

Alfred shrugged. “Nah, was like this when we got it. Last owners restored it, since it was kinda run-down and shitty. Didn’t even have electricity.” He finally managed to get the lot of them into the library, and thus out of Francis’ sight. Now, if he could just keep them talking until they left...

He tried not to let a frustrated noise escape. Hunters were clever, specially selected and trained to notice any kind of supernatural activity, and this house had to be crawling with signs. He crept back towards his bedroom, quiet as the dead (hah), and closed the door behind him. Oddly, Elizaveta and Roderich were not where he’d left them. Instead, a small note was sitting on the bed, written in bright red ink.

Have fun with the hunters, see you in hell! ~ ♥ Elizaveta

Those sly bastards. They probably knew ahead of time. Just went to show you could never trust a demon. Francis went to pick up the note, when it turned to ash at his touch. They’d covered their own tracks as well.

Footsteps in the hall. Francis ducked to the side, hiding in a wardrobe. But the door didn’t open, and the steps instead continued down the hall. “Alfred, which door is the bathroom again?” called Ida’s voice, startlingly clear and close. His heart hammered in his chest.

“Second door on the left!” hollered Alfred. Second door on the... that was Francis’ room.

That little- he was trying to get him killed! Not that that was much of a surprise, really. If the hunters killed him, then he could just say to Arthur that it wasn’t his fault, honest, they just showed up out of nowhere. They wouldn’t attack Alfred, the Hunter’s double standards were such that even if the individual was an insane psychopath with over 100 murders to his name, they’d spare him because he was human. Pathetic. It wasn’t often that Francis thought so vehemently of people, but Hunters were Hunters. They didn’t count as people.

People or not, they would still readily kill him, so when the door to the bedroom opened, Francis held his breath, listening carefully. “What the, this is just a bedroom...” she muttered, but lingered in the doorway. “... why is there ash on the bed...”

Please just leave!’ Francis pleaded in his head. ‘If there is a merciful being known as God, make her leave!’ The silence was terrible, stretching onward into eternity. The longest minute of his un-life seemed to disobey the laws of time and space, staying forever in the paralysing fear of discovery.

“Alfred! Your directions suck, prav!”

“Ida! Don’t be rude!”

“Hahahaha, sorry, my bad, I meant on the right. I get those mixed up!”

The door closed, and Ida’s footsteps disappeared across the hallway and into the actual bathroom. Francis’ legs might as well have been made out of jelly for all the good they were doing holding him up now that the danger had, momentarily, left. The Hunters had only been here twenty minutes, and already it felt like they were going to drive him into an early grave (again) via heart attack. Which was probably Alfred’s intention. Or maybe not, since the boy seemed to take such satisfaction out of doing the killing himself. Perhaps he just intended to torture Francis first.

God only knew what they were talking about down there. Hopefully Alfred wasn’t babbling inanely about the vampires, werewolves and occasional possessed people he’d come across in the past few months. If he even mentioned a little about Francis, Lydia would most likely strip the house bare in search of him. And while there would be some wonderful dramatic irony in a person like him being exorcised by a beautiful woman, Francis had heard that exorcism was actually incredibly painful. And he, unlike Arthur, was not a martyr or a masochist.

The toilet across the hall flushed and the sound of the tap started, old pipes of the house creaking slightly, as they always did. Francis was thankful for it; at least he could figure out Ida’s location and avoid her like the plague.

The bathroom door creaked as it swung open, and the noise of Ida’s boots carried down the hall, until they disappeared entirely from Francis’ hearing. Carefully, he slipped out of the wardrobe. That was much too close for comfort. He had to find somewhere else to hide, lest Ida tell Lydia of the strange ash she found in the room.

Midnight was approaching, and if they didn’t get the hunters to leave by then, they’d probably fall asleep, and then when Arthur returned...

There was, of course, a possibility that they’d just come here by accident, but Francis immediately dismissed that as ridiculous. The Hunters had attacked this house before, and no doubt had come to check up on it since there had been so much activity in the area.

He slipped out of the bedroom and darted into an unused room across the hall. He’d not really gone in here before, despite staying in Arthur’s house for so long. The vampire was quite techy about people snooping around his house. The room was spotlessly clean, seeming practically untouched. Unlike the room with all the boxes, it was largely empty, apart from two small beds. Squinting through the pale moonlight and slight breeze from an open window, Francis could also make out several toys, neatly arranged on the beds as though waiting for their owners to return.

A strange, croaking noise came from atop one of the dressers in the corner of the room. Turning slowly, Francis came face to face with a bird. Beady black eyes sized up the intruder, and for some reason Francis felt like he was being judged.

“So you think they’d let me?”

Francis’s heart stopped and then restarted again as Alfred’s voice came out of nowhere.

“I think so, you seem like you could get away with murder anyway, prav.”

The voices came from beneath his feet. Ah, this room was directly above the library. He made very sure that his steps didn’t make the floorboards creek as he shut the door. The bird was still watching him. What was it doing in here anyway?

Alfred was laughing. “My parents let me get away with a lot of stuff. I guess it’s them trying to make up for moving us here from America.”

“I didn’t think you sounded like you were from around here...” came Lydia’s soft voice. Francis shivered. Ida and Heracles weren’t as much a threat to him as Lydia was. This was much too close for comfort; she was probably just under three meters away from him, and he could feel the pull her spiritual powers induced in many ghosts just like him. Like an angler fish luring in prey...

That was it, he had to get out. Leave the house for a while. But the only way out was down the stairs, and to go down the stairs would mean arriving in the front hall, and being but a door away from the library, and thus the hunters.

The bird suddenly let out a piercing cry, more like a scream than any bird call Francis had ever heard. It took to the air, dive-bombing Francis before the blonde could try and shut it up, and then went to the open window. Please God, let them not have heard that.

“What was that?”

Of course, God was on their side.

The bird was still by the window, and it screeched again at him. Francis dove for it, trying to at least smack it out of the window, when it dodged him and flew off, leaving him hanging over the edge of the windowsill. There was ivy all around him, and large bushes at the bottom covered in powdery snow. He reached a hand out and tested the ivy’s strength. The plant had to be at least 50 years old, and stayed firmly in place. It was no longer snowing, but the night air was chilly.

Grabbing a blanket off the bed for warmth, Francis carefully climbed out of the window, and scaled down the ivy as quietly as possible. His landing in the bushes was soft, but every rustle of leaves was terrifying. He’d avoided the windows, but could still hear the voices inside the library if he strained his ears.

“Your father keeps a petrel?” asked Lydia in wonderment.

“Bermudan one. Screams like the damned, but he loves it.” Alfred explained with a carefree attitude. “They’re endangered but I think he has a thing for rare stuff.”

“Lydia, come with me to go see it!” Ida said frantically, and Francis could picture her jumping up and down excitedly. Francis kept his head down as their voices travelled upstairs, hiding under the bushes. “Aww man, it’s not here, prav...”

“Maybe it flew off out the window...” Lydia said, voice trailing off. Every word she said made Francis want to stand up and yell “here I am!” Foul trick to use. Trust the hunters to be so sneaky as to recruit spirit magnets. “So, what was it you really wanted to say?”

Ida huffed. “You know me too well, prav.” Her voice dropped, so quiet Francis had to strain to hear even though they were standing by the window. “That kid’s a liar. He’s a really, really good liar, but you know how I feel about liars, prav.”

“Yes, I know.” Lydia replied, voice just as low. “But lying is important in our profession, not to mention the sheer volume of lingering voices here indicates that he’s definitely the one we’ve been looking for.”

“Mm, I know the Cardinal has been interested in him since he first heard the news, but I still don’t like it, prav.” Ida did indeed sound upset and annoyed. “We’d have to get to him before the police do. Once he’s in the system it’ll be impossible to get him out without breaking a few necks, prav.”

“Let’s not do that.” Lydia agreed. “Come on, let’s go back down.”

Merde. They were going to recruit him. They were going to recruit him and he was probably going to die. Right. Okay. Running away wasn’t going to help in this instance. For once, he was going to try and do something selfless.

He turned back towards the ivy, and started climbing again. It was much more difficult this time, fighting gravity every inch of the way as his body quicky began to freeze up from the cold. By the time he got to the window, his joints were stiff and he felt like an old man. He shut the window, and walked as quietly as possible out of the room and down the hall. Arthur had a phone in here somewhere, he had to... there! At the end of the hall! It was exposed and anyone could see him, but the phone was attached to a chord, so he was stuck. Take it or leave it...

Picking up the phone, he dialed 999. Every ring made him more and more nervous, until finally an operator picked up.

“Emergency services.”

“Hello? I need the police, immediately.” he whispered.

“What’s the problem, sir?”

Francis took a deep breath. “My name is Phillipe Fournier. I’m trapped in a house with Alfred F. Jones. He’s trying to kill me.”

“You mean the serial killer from the United States?”

“Why would I namedrop him otherwise?” he snapped.

“Just a moment sir, our system is having trouble tracing your call...”

“It’s an old, large house not far out of Bristol, surrounded by forests. Please, you have to come quickly, he’s only distracted for a moment!”

“Mister Fournier, please stay calm. Is there anywhere you can hide?”

“I’m hiding right now! Look, I’ll just give you directions, and for god’s sake, make sure the police are armed. You have no idea what this boy can do...”

“I’ll be sure they have note of that sir.”

Francis gave the directions and hung up the phone before the operator could request he stay on the line. Now he had to make sure the hunters left-

A tinny melody made him nearly jump out of his skin with fright. He ducked into a bedroom and peered out of the door. Coming along the hall was Heracles, wandering aimlessly still with that half-asleep look on his face. He stopped, blinking twice before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a mobile phone. It continued with it’s cheerful jingle, which sounded oddly like a cat-food commercial he’d heard once, until the Hunter opened it up and held it to his ear.

“Yes?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed, perhaps that his phone had gone off when he was sneaking around. Francis, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier. He never would have noticed the Hunter coming otherwise. “I see. We’ll move out then.” Another pause. “Lydia did? Hm. I don’t like him though.” A small frown appeared on his usually passive face. “I guess. See you in a few hours then.” The phone snapped closed, and after a lingering look down to the end of the hall, Heracles turned and walked back where he’d come from. Francis breathed a sigh of relief (quietly). They were leaving, thank god, they were leaving.

And now, he definitely had to leave too, preferably before he got stuck in police custody.


“Aw, you have to go so soon?” Alfred seemed disappointed. “But we could have talked for ages!”

“Sadly, we’ve been called back by our church, and it is getting very late.” Lydia smiled, and shrugged her shoulders. “Thank you very much for having us, though. Your hospitality is a blessing.”

“Shucks, it weren’t nothin’ really.” the blonde teen laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking flattered. “Come round again sometime, it’ll be nice.”

“We travel a lot, but sure!” Ida cheered, grinning at the much taller teen. “And then I’ll kick your ass at Halo.”

“Uhuh, right, sure, you’re gonna need to practice first!” Alfred laughed as the chill of winter crept through the now open front door. “Hasta la bye bye then!”

With the hunters gone and the door shut, Alfred stretched his hands above his head and let out a satisfied sound. “You can come out now, ‘fraidy cat.”

Francis emerged from the top of the stairs. “You weren’t exactly trying to keep them from finding me.”

Alfred grinned. “Well gee, I wonder why.” He took a couple of paces towards Francis, hands still behind his head. Francis stood his ground. “Now where were we...”

“I think you were right in the middle of threatening me with physical harm.”

Thin eyebrows rose. “You’re not scared.”

“You’re not scary.” Francis folded his arms. “I just had three close encounters with people who could disintegrate my soul into nothingness. Comparatively, you’re just a little boy with a strange knack for making people’s insides, outside.”

Alfred stared at him for a long moment. Then he folded his arms, frowned, and huffed in a way that made a few locks of hair fluff upwards for a second. “Well that’s annoying. It’s no fun if you’re doing that “face death with dignity” thing...”

“Technically, I’m already dead.” Francis shrugged, starting to find it hard to keep up the feeling of complacancy. Alfred briefly blanched at the mention of ghosts, but then a calculating glint entered his eye. Uh oh.

“So how did you die the first time?” the teen loomed over him, grinning.

“That’s incredibly personal information to ask the undead. It’s ghost etiquette not to.” Francis replied, folding his arms as Alfred did. “Besides which, I don’t know.”

Alfred’s face betrayed his surprise. “You don’t know?”

“Non, I don’t. It’s a blank. I can’t remember.”

“Can’t? Or don’t want to?” Alfred pressed, uncomfortably close. Suddenly all the bravado went out of Francis, and he took a step back. “I’m curious now, about how you died. Maybe it was so horrible you don’t want to remember it? Ah, I want to know now. Can we make you remember?” Francis wanted to take another step back, but suddenly Alfred’s hands were on his throat, squeezing. Choking. “If you die again, will you remember? Maybe it’ll all come back to you...”

“Alfred--!” Francis gasped, weakly trying to pull the teen’s hands off him. A futile effort, even when he tried kicking his legs out.

“Oh, and while we’re here, I just wanna ask you.” His grip tightened. “Did you know this body belonged to Phillipe Fournier when you possessed it, or was that just an accident.” He grinned, voice dropping to a rumbling growl. “Because either way, you stole my kill, jackass.”

Francis couldn’t exactly breathe to answer, little lights bursting in front of his eyes. But even with the blood pounding in his ears, he could hear the sirens, and the sounds of helicopter blades cutting air.

“We have you surrounded! Alfred F. Jones, come out unarmed and with your hands up!”

Alfred paused, looked at Francis, and the smile disappeared from his face.

“You traitorous bastard.”

There was a snapping sound, and Francis breathed no more.

Monster Mash 13

- 999 is the emergency service number in England.
- The call of a Bermudan Petrel is incredibly similar to a human scream. So much so that when people first discovered the island, which was uninhabited except for the birds, they killed them off because they suspected they were the devil, and branded the island haunted. This particular petrel used to be Asrai's pet before she died. It lives forever. 8|a
- Lydia and Ida are Slovakia and Czech OCs of mine in the original Hetalia universe. Like you didn't guess.
- Sorry this took so long! I had a horrible case of writer's block!
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April 2011

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