THIS TIME ROUND: FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF LUST by BKWillis It had been a dark and stormy night two days before, but this one was relatively sedate at the Steel Maiden Bar and Grill. A couple of crossover newcomers had tried to start a fight earlier, but the regulars' hearts hadn't been in it, so the winsome waif of a bouncer had stripped them both naked and tossed them out into the cold. Bella said it was to sober them up quicker, but she was probably just bored. Taking advantage of the calm, the Usual Foursome was playing poker at the back corner table. Quite how or even why Izzy, Adric, Lauryn Tiberia, and Tsukuyomi had become buddies no one was sure, least of all the quartet themselves. A sci-fi fangirl, a downtrodden math nerd, an authoritarian she-thug, and the world's most adorable evil mercenary would not appear to have a lot of common ground at first glance. But a closer inspection would reveal that... no, seriously, why the hell were these people friends? "Perhaps it's because we all have dysfunctional love-lives," Adric mused as he tossed in two credits. "Speak for yourself," Lauryn grunted. "I get plenty of tail on a regular basis. Yeah, I pay for it, but that still counts." She glared at her table-mates, daring any of them to gainsay this assertion. No one cared to. "If by 'dysfunctional', you mean 'nonexistent', then I'm on the page with you." That was Izzy, silently raising another credit. Tsukuyomi tut-tutted as Lauryn called the bet, eyes dancing behind her glasses. "I have no complaints about my love-life, Mr. Adric. In fact, it's going quite swimmingly. I even got a public display of affection with Setsuna-dear in a recent manga chapter!" She sighed dreamily, looking the very image of innocent schoolgirl love with her frills and bows and rosy cheeks -- provided you overlooked the two well-used shortswords strapped to her back. "Uh, yeah," said Izzy. "About that. I _read_ that chapter and I'm pretty sure that what you were doing to Setsuna was more like attempted forcible rape than a PDA." Tsukuyomi just shrugged. "Eh, you say 'to-may-to', I say 'to-mah-to'." Green looks from the other three, particularly Adric. "You know," he quavered, "I tend to forget, you being so sweet most of the time, that you're actually, uh, evil... and stuff." She just blinked at them. "So... I should be bad _all_ the time? I'm sorry, but I think it would be terribly inappropriate for me to treat other people inconsiderately, unless I stand to gain something by stabbing them." They all laid out their cards in the pause that followed this statement, Tsukuyomi winning the hand with a flush. And being that there was no real way to steer this conversation into less- awkward territory, Izzy was relieved when Lauryn changed the subject, though that relief wasn't to last long. "Well, well," Tiberia purred, eyeing someone over Izzy's shoulder. "Something tasty this way comes." The accompanying leer made Izzy turn to look, but she almost immediately regretted it. "Good evening," Varla the Movellan greeted, slinking up to perch on the edge of the table between Izzy and Adric. "Uh, hi Varla." Izzy was already scooting her chair away and getting ready to deflect grabby mechanical-yet-realistically- humanoid hands. She needn't have bothered. For the first time in a very great while, the Movellan prostitute was actually respecting her personal space. "Isabelle," Varla said affably, "if you are not too occupied, I wish to request your assistance in a matter." "If it's about a new position," Lauryn cut in, "I'm much more limber and durable than the fangirl is." "Negative. It is simply a request for information. I wish to obtain a deeper understanding of the emotions possessed by organic life." "And why do you want to know that?" Izzy wasn't letting her guard down just yet. "I am -- I think 'distressed' would be a good approximation -- by my inability to bed certain females. Observation indicates that this is not likely to be due to lack of physical appeal on my part." This was undeniable, even to Izzy. Pushy, grabby, and mildly deranged Varla might be, she was still a fine figure of a woman, factory-built or not. "It may therefore be due to a failure to understand the emotional responses inherent in most biologicals. I must rectify this situation if I am to pursue my goal of having sexual relations with all females." Izzy was looking to the others for some backup, but it was obvious that they intended to let her fly this one solo. "So... you want me to help you understand emotions so you can better convince me to have sex with you, is that it?" Varla cocked her head, considering -- a programmed affectation. "In so many words, yes, Isabelle." "And why would I do that?" "Because my observations indicate that you are the sort of person who assists those in need, even when you stand to gain nothing by doing so, and I am in need." Izzy tried to think up a good reply, couldn't, so just closed her mouth. "She's got you there, Izzy," grinned Adric. "Of all the Steel Maiden's clientele," Varla reiterated, "you are the person most prone to aiding others. You are also among the most stable psychologically. You are therefore the best person to ask for assistance in this matter and I, a being in need of aid, am asking you for it." She paused for a moment. "I believe 'please' may be an appropriate term to add at this point, so... please, Isabelle." Izzy sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I'll probably regret this, but... what do you want to know?" ---- "Why are we having a contest?" Bella the bouncer wondered. Izzy shrugged. "Scarlett says it's okay, so why _not_ make it a contest?" The vampire considered this. "Fair enough. It'll add spice to the evening, if nothing else." Izzy held aloft the bottle of wine she'd bought with her meager winnings (Tsukuyomi usually dominated Poker Night, probably via cheating, though she'd never been caught at it) and pounded on the bar. "Your attention, please!" she called out to the room at large. "Varla the Movellan has asked for help in understanding the emotion we call 'fear'. So, to help her out, I'm announcing the Steel Maiden Scary Story Contest. Whoever can tell the most terrifying tale will win this bottle of..." She squinted at the label. "...Chateau Chunder '08. I'll be the judge, while Varla observes and hopefully learns a little something about fear. So, who wants to go first?" Everyone had clustered around the two, but no one seemed to want to speak up. Sighing, Izzy turned back to the bar. "Scarlett, what about you?" "Me?" The barmaid shook her head. "I'm no teller of tales, dear." "Come on," Izzy pressed. "You've been around the block a few times..." Scarlett scowled, trying to decide if Izzy was calling her old. That irked her until she reminded herself that she _was_ getting a bit long in the tooth, so she couldn't really get upset over it. She leaned on the bar, thinking, taking the moment to scratch under her eyepatch. "Well..." she said at length. "There was this one time..." "A story from personal experience," Izzy whispered to Varla. "The sense of realism makes them more chilling." Scarlett continued. "...back when I was but a ranger brigade commander. We were up in the mountains on the Bolgorian border. Our brigade had gotten separated from the main army, it was getting dark, and there were about 20,000 Bolgorian infantry between us and the main body. We pulled back, trying to find a more defensible position and some supplies to let us bide until we might attempt a breakout. Scouts did report an ancient temple complex further up the mountain, so we retreated thence, little knowing what lay in store for us..." "This is good," Izzy whispered. "Old places and mysticism always add extra spookiness." Varla nodded. "I shall observe and note all reactions." "The temple _seemed_ welcoming enough, at distance and in fading light. But when we got inside..." Scarlett closed her eye and shuddered. "What did you find?" Izzy prodded. "Inside... we found that... the walls were too ramshackle to stand against assault! And there were no supplies -- no food and the well had gone dry! We were worse off than before!" Izzy nearly fell off her barstool. "That isn't scary, Scarlett!" "I beg to differ," said the barmaid icily. "Being surrounded and cut off from supply would horrify any soldier." "But it was an ancient temple! There should be an eldritch monster or something in it!" "My dear, when the enemy has you outnumbered fifteen-to-one, you need no other monsters." Izzy rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Your story didn't scare me, so you get..." She held up two cards. "...a 2.5. Now, who's next? And please, let's make it a _proper_ scary story this time. Something creepy or ghostly." "Creepy, huh?" To the surprise of practically everyone, it was musclebound, buzz-cutted Lauryn who spoke up. "Well, you can go ahead and hand over the bottle, toots, 'cause Auntie Lauryn's got a story so scary, you'll piss in other people's pants. But first, a little _atmosphere_." She walked over and dimmed the common room lights. Izzy nodded approvingly. "A dark and still environment tends to make people uneasy," she explained to Varla. "It adds a little extra _oomph_ to the scariness." "The effects of oomph shall be noted, Isabelle." "Okay," Lauryn addressed the group, "it's like this. There was this guy, right? And he was into collecting art. He wasn't a rich guy, or anything. Worked in an office, pushing papers or some such crap, but he really dug art. So he goes to this garage sale and it turns out the guy having the sale is an art guy, too. Got a bunch of paintings and crap for sale. So the first guy, he's looking through all this stuff, when he comes across this really freaky painting. It's of a little girl in a black dress, standing in front of a cemetery gate, and she's holding up three fingers, like this." She demonstrated with her own hand. "Haunted paintings are a classic horror-story trope," Izzy whispered. "This should be good and spooky." "So, yeah, the painting's freaky as hell, but it's also really well- done. Like, super-realistic, to the point you'd think it was a photo if you couldn't see the brush-marks or whatever you call 'em. So the guy buys the picture and takes it home, putting it in his living room. But then, that night..." Lauryn lowered her voice. "...the guy has a really sick nightmare where the girl in the painting is moving around and breathing and stuff. He wakes up in a cold sweat. Now, he knows it's silly to think a painting could move, but just in case, he gets up and goes to check it out and... Nothing. The girl in the painting hasn't budged, still standing there, holding up three fingers." She demonstrated again. "So, the guy goes back to bed. And he has _another_ nightmare, that the girl in the painting is climbing out of the picture. Again, he wakes up and goes to look, and once again she's still right there in the painting, holding up three fingers. This goes on every night. He'll have a dream that the picture-girl in the black dress is walking down his hallway, or standing outside his bedroom door, or climbing into his bed. And every time, he rushes in there to check the painting, and every time she's still right there, no different than before, holding up those three fingers. "After a week or two, it starts to really get to him. He only sleeps a few minutes at a time, then he wakes up to run and see if the painting's changed, but it never does. He checks the positions of every line and object in that picture, over and over during the day, but the girl holding up the three fingers never changes. He even leaves work during the day to try and catch the picture-girl moving, but she never does... that he can see, anyway. But he _knows_ she's doing it. He just can't prove it. "Well, this crap goes on for about three weeks. He's not sleeping right, looks like hell, and can't work worth a crap 'cause he's so obsessed with watching that damn painting. So his boss calls him in and fires him, 'cause he can't get anything done. The guy goes home and he's sitting there, wondering how he's gonna pay the bills with no job. There's only one thing he can do to hold off the creditors, and that's have a garage sale and sell off his artwork, including the painting of the little girl in the black dress standing in front of a cemetery gate, holding up three fingers. And just as he decides this, he catches a flicker, just out of the corner of his eye..." The whole audience, barring Varla, who had no biological need to, gulped. Lauryn gave a creepy little grin, creepier than her normal perverted one. "The guy looks over at the painting of the little girl... and now..." She raised a hand to demonstrate. "...she's holding up _four_ fingers!" She looked 'round the audience, clearly waiting for the oohing and aahing and swooning. Oohs were thin on the ground, aahs even moreso, and swoons nonexistent. "That's _it_?!" demanded Izzy. "Uh, yeah," Lauryn grunted back. "It really _was_ a haunted painting after all, see?" "A haunted painting that... makes art-collectors have garage sales." "Well, haunted's haunted." "Um, no. In this case, haunted's lame. I'm giving it a 4.0, only because your delivery was pretty decent." Izzy looked around pleadingly. "Somebody, please top that." A tall and vaguely weaselish brunette in a t-shirt that read 'Definitely Not a UNIT Spy' started jumping up and down. "Oh! Oh! I remember a cool story! Pick me, pick me!" "Er, okay," sighed Izzy, knowing better than to get her hopes up with this one. "Go ahead, Judy." "Yeah, okay. I heard this one at band camp one time... or was it UNIT basic training? I get those mixed-up sometimes. Anyway, this guy and girl go out on a date. The guy wants to go out 'parking' in the woods to... you know..." "I'm pretty sure I've heard this one," Izzy interrupted, "but go ahead. "Well, the girl's kind of scared, but says okay, so they drive out to a secluded spot and..." Judy stopped to think, looking rather like a dachshund confronted with a quadratic equation. "Erm... then they... pick up this hitchhiker. In a prom dress. She says she's going home, but the radio says there's a psycho on the loose, so they call the police. The cops trace the call and tell them it's coming from inside the house and there's a baby in the oven. That's when something starts banging on the car and it turns out to be a dead dog in a noose with 'Humans can lick too' written in blood beside the steel hook. Oh, and the hitchhiker was their dead daughter. Pretty scary, huh?" "I give you zero points," snapped Izzy. "And you only get that because I can't fine you for the two minutes of my life you just wasted." Tsukuyomi spoke up next. "Speaking of urban legends like those reminds me, are you familiar with the Bloody Mary ritual? Because they say a girl at my school tried that once." "Ah, the old classic teen-girl dare," Izzy agreed. "Do go on." "It happened in a dorm room one fateful night at the Shinmei School." Tsukuyomi couldn't quite get her voice low enough to be properly scary, but she did try. "The four girls who lived there were up past curfew, playing truth-or-dare. One of the girls, who the other three picked on, was asked a question she didn't want to answer, so the others dared her to go into the bathroom at the stroke of midnight and try to summon Bloody Mary. "So the girl went into the bathroom with nothing but a small candle for light. And then, when the clock began to chime midnight, she stared into the mirror and repeated, 'I believe in Bloody Mary', over and over again. When she repeated it the eleventh time, the candle began to flicker. The twelfth time, and the room grew cold as the dead. And on the thirteenth time, a face appeared in the mirror, right behind the girl -- a hunched old hag, her teeth filed to points, sunken eyes glowing like sparks from the pit itself. She could feel the creature's hot, fetid breath upon her neck and the scratch of its blood-caked nails upon her back. Bloody Mary... was _real_!" "Then what happened?" Izzy asked, rapt. "As the murderous Bloody Mary reached for her, the girl let out a scream, then drew her sword and-- HAH!" Tsukuyomi mimed a slash. "She attacked with the Spirit-Cutting Strike technique, wounding the creature. Then she trapped Bloody Mary in place with some Onmyou spirit wards and had the teachers come around and destroy what remained of it the next day. But they couldn't use the bathroom for the rest of the night, of course." She blinked at the sour look on Izzy's face. "What?" "So, this girl calls up an evil spirit, then kills it with very little effort. That's the ending of your story?" "Well, yes." Tsukuyomi shrugged. "Shinmei-Ryu is a school for demon-slayers. If a student couldn't handle a low-level summoned wraith like Bloody Mary, they'd be drummed out." "You get 7.0 for the buildup and 2.0 for the climax," Izzy declared. "That gives you a 4.5, which sadly enough puts you in the lead." "Bah!" scoffed Madeleine the Ogron as she set out a spread of monster-shaped sugar cookies she'd just whipped up. "Mechanical slut-girl never learn about fear from wimpy human stories. Ogron folk tales, they put hair on chest and load in pants!" "An alien perspective on fear," Izzy whispered to Varla. "This should be good." She motioned to Madeleine to proceed. "Madeleine tell story, but no people who listen blaming Madeleine if never sleep again, yes?" She let out a chuckle, sounding like an evil cement truck. "Once upon time, was Ogron warrior. Warrior live alone in high mountain cave, for training. One day, warrior wake up needing to take dump. Went to chamber-bucket and opened lid..." Madeleine swept the audience with slitted eyes. "Chamber-bucket already full of shit... that was _not_ that warrior's!" It was obvious that Madeleine really wished there was a soundtrack playing, so that it would go 'DUN-dun-DUUNNNN' right as she said that. It was also obvious that a large portion of the audience wanted to laugh, and only the enormous destructive capability of Ogron fists was stopping them from doing so. "Sooo... an unearthly crap, was it?" Izzy remarked, face carefully neutral. Unlike the others, this was more out of a desire to avoid hurting Madeleine's feelings than fear of Madeleine's feelings hurting _her_. "That _is_ kind of creepy when you think about it, so I'll give it a 5.0." "You're just giving her the lead because she brought cookies!" Babydoll Rokossovsky taunted over a lapful of beautiful vampire bouncer. "So? Either bribe me too, or tell a better story, a real blood- curdler." "Hmmm..." The ex-corporate merc considered this, taking a moment to enjoy a good Bella-nuzzle. "I could tell a few tales that would chill your blood, but they're mostly about things like interrogating enemy officers with power tools, and I don't think that's what you're looking for. And if that sort of thing _is_ what you're looking for, you should just call Lysbeth Harlow in here and be done with it, because that crazy bitch has _done_ things worse than I've ever even _heard_ of." "I think we'll pass on the mayhem and on Harlow," Izzy replied. "I'm trying to teach Varla about plain old fear, not revulsion." She gave Rokossovsky a quizzical look. "But you mean to tell me that you date a vampire -- a definitive creature of the night -- and you don't know any horror stories?" "What Fangs does after dark is her own business," Babydoll insisted. "I try to stay away from all that supernatural Edgar Alan Lovecraft stuff." "You're quite the literary scholar, my dear Piggy," Bella purred, absolutely straight-faced. "H. P. King would be proud." "Wait a minute!" Judy Custer blurted, pointing at Bella. "She can't be a real vampire. She doesn't _sparkle_!" Lauryn and Tsukuyomi promptly stuffed a placemat into her mouth, which really should have been done more often. Izzy and everyone else decided to pretend Judy had never spoken; Bella's feelings regarding 'Twilight' were similar to a Dalek's regarding Thal telemarketers. "What about you, Bella?" Izzy asked. "Got any juicy stories of drinking blood and riding the night winds?" Bella shrugged. "I do, but from a vampire's perspective, they're honestly pretty boring. Drinking someone's blood is about as interesting as going out for coffee. Sneak in, hypnotize, nibble someone's wrist a bit, then sneak back out. I do try to wear something a bit racy, so the victim at least gets a pleasant 'dream' to remember." "Wrists? You don't bite necks?" "Heh. Only if I'm trying to _kill_ someone." She tapped a fang. "Canine teeth aren't made for neat little punctures. If you stick these in a carotid artery, it's not going to just scab over. In fact, I usually carry a needle to make the actual hole. Sterilized, of course." She pondered, fingers twining in Babydoll's hair where her pigtails used to be. "I _could_ tell you about the thing in my head that makes me what I am. _That's_ plenty scary. Only... it's kind of hard to describe in a way that you could understand. And if you _did_ truly understand, I'm pretty sure you'd want to kill yourself, so that's probably a bit of a non-starter." There was another of those awkward silences. "Come on, people," Izzy growled after a bit. "_Somebody_ here has to know something genuinely scary." She looked over the crowd. "What about you, Adric?" "I do know about something scary," he replied, looking thoughtful. "It's to do with what happens sometimes when you die." "Death and the unknown are two of mankind's oldest sources of fear," Izzy muttered to Varla. The Movellan nodded, watching Izzy's face with an odd intensity. "Everybody knows about Heaven and Hell, Purgatory and Reincarnation," Adric said quietly. "But sometimes, something else happens. Sometimes, souls kind of... fall through the cracks. If you don't make enough of an impression on the world, you may get... overlooked... when you die. And your soul wanders and drifts, on and on, until it reaches the very last thing that exists, a seemingly-empty place full of dust and fog and still, silent air, gray on gray on gray. But after a while, you realize it _isn't_ empty, for there are great hounds there, sniffing and howling after you, always just out of view in the fog. They howl for you because they hate you and all you represent. They are the souls of the unborn slain, you see, and they know that you had the life they were denied, and that you wasted it, or else you wouldn't be there, in the dust. As their prey. "So you will run. The hounds will most likely catch you and eat you up, every last scrap of you. But maybe not. Sometimes, you may not get the mercy of... whatever happens when they eat you. You might survive, evading the hounds until you reach the ruins of a long-dead city, a place that once existed on ancient Earth. If you can get there, the hounds will stop their chase and leave you to the silence and the broken stones. As they leave you inside the walls, their howling sounds quite a lot like laughter. "Inside the city, you will find others like yourself -- souls who died unmourned and unmissed. You are unlikely to make many friends, there. With nothing to do in the endless tedium except stew in their desperation and regrets... the lucky ones lose their memories, or go mad. Conversation will seldom be pleasant. But, eventually, one of your fellow lost souls will offer to show you something you've never seen before and you will take them up on it, because there is absolutely nothing else but ruins and dust and hounds. So they will lead you a little ways beyond the city, to view the most horrible thing anyone ever saw. The Drop." Adric took a long swallow of cider before continuing. "The Drop is the end, the very edge of existence. You look beyond it into total, absolute nothingness. Absence. Lack. Pure, raw oblivion. You'll watch the dust spill over the Drop and disappear into that nothing and you will suddenly realize what true nonexistence is. You will be afraid then, more afraid than you have ever been of anything. But what will soon frighten you more will be the realization that, compared to facing eternity in the dust or the ravenous hate of the hounds, stepping over the Drop and into annihilation may not be the worst choice..." Izzy blinked at him. She'd never known Adric to be much of a storyteller. "Wow. That's really creepy. And well-told. But unfortunately, not particularly _scary_. More sad than anything else. I mean, looking into nothingness doesn't really sound all _that_ awful. I'll give it a 4.5." Adric quirked a chilly little smile as he walked off. "Oh, well," he mumbled, "I guess you just had to _be_ there." Since no one else was showing much enthusiasm for continuing the contest, most of the audience took this as their cue to disperse. Grumbling about the need for her peers to "at least read a fracking 'Goosebumps' novel or something", Izzy passed the bottle of cheap plonk to Madeleine, the 'winner', who accepted the prize with far better grace than it was given. "Sorry, Varla," Izzy grumped. "That wasn't as educational for you as I'd hoped." Varla smiled back, but then such cordiality was basically her default expression. "On the contrary, Isabelle. I obtained much useful data from this exercise." "Don't see _how_." Scarlett rolled her eye, Izzy's mood beginning to wear a little thin. "For God's sake, lass, if you want to teach Varla what 'fear' means, why not just sit her down and explain it to her _yourself_?" Varla cut in before Izzy could answer. "Isabelle cannot do so, because she fears to engage with me being-to-being. For her to even conduct limited conversation with me requires the presence of other individuals, thus the necessity for involving the entire tavern in providing me with the data I requested." Izzy's jaw did a fair imitation of a landed trout, but despite its activity a coherent or even audible retort was not forthcoming. "I was able to discover considerable information this evening," Varla explained,speaking to Scarlett but _at_ Izzy. "For instance, that the range of causes that inspire fear in organic beings is apparently quite broad, but that what triggers a fear response in one being may trigger a wholly different response in another. Further, my observation of Isabelle herself and her reactions to various stimuli this evening provides a reasonable basis for determining her emotional state under given conditions. From this, I have been able to confirm that a major component of her emotional response to my immediate presence is one of fear. Observe." The Movellan reached a hand toward Izzy's own, but Izzy shied away before she even realized she was doing it. "Tha- that doesn't mean I'm afraid," she stammered. "It's just that you'll... you always..." "I always what, Isabelle?" Normally, this might have sounded pushy, but Varla's tone conveyed only simple curiosity. "I have not caused you harm, nor would I wish to. You must know this by now. And even though I have withdrawn my hand from your immediate vicinity and Scarlett is present with us, your fear- response appears to be increasing in severity. This presents a confusing anomaly for me, as to the source of your fear. I am well- known to you. I know that you do not find me grotesque. I would not harm you, nor commit any act upon you contrary to your expressed wishes. My understanding of fear and its causes therefore remains insufficient in this case, and your current state of denial indicates that your own understanding may be insufficient, as well. I find this... unfortunate." With that, she slid off her barstool and ambled to the basement door, toward her room. She stopped suddenly, half-through the doorway, and looked back. "I believe," she said, "that the proper response to assistance freely rendered is to express what is called 'gratitude', in which case..." She inclined her head, more than a nod but less than a bow. "...I thank you for your efforts, Isabelle." Izzy watched the door click shut behind her. After a long moment, she dug a handful of coins and bills out of her pocket and slid them across the bar, not bothering to count it. "Scarlett, bring me a bottle of... anything. I think I've, ah... got some thinking to do..." --BKWillis 'Doctor Who' is property of the BBC. 'This Time Round' created by Tyler Dion. Tsukuyomi is from 'Magical Teacher Negima', property of Ken Akamatsu. All other characters are from adwc fan-fiction. Archivist's notes: Story Type: Steel Maiden Blurb: A scary story contest seems like the perfect way for Varla the Movellan to learn about the emotion of fear, but Varla may not be the only one with things to learn. Author's note: Adric's story is based on an arc of the TTR round-robin 'Dark Carnival'