Walter Koenig continued his rampage towards Washington D.C. However, as this author doesn't want to waste too much time on his exploits, this is the only paragraph being given to the man who should be introducing the chapter but is instead driving across the US in a large convoy containing no less than two buses and three tanks. Which was an impressive sight, especially considering that this was the 70s and special effects still aren't that sophisticated. * * * "Quick, get somebody else!" hissed the producer. "Mr. Koenig is supposed to intro this episode but he's on a rampage across America!" "I think I've got something," said an assistant producer, "but it's rather... odd..." "Never you mind," said the producer. "Just run it." * * * Who's the white undead freak that is swooned over by all the chicks? "Alucard!" You damn right. And who's the pale cat that opposes his dad at every turn? "Alucard!" You damn right. And who's the cursed half-breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil? "Alucard!" You daaaaaamn right. You know, I hear Alucard's one bad cursed half- breed- "Shut yo' mouth!" Jus' talking 'bout Alucard. "We can dig it!" -\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/-\|/- Improfanfic wishes to distance itself from, but grudgingly admits the existence of: Castlevania 1970: Disco of Evil Chapter 25: Coming out of the closet Bubbling like a festering swamp from the mind of: Steven Scougall That scream of terrified realisation you just heard was uttered by: Steven Scougall The person who realised he has no ideas for this part and has never played a Castlevania game and has only very very recently seen the original Shaft: Steven Scougall The one to blame for this entire series: Gaijin Dan Mastriani -/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\-/|\- Plaz was mortified. No doubt Alucard had seen Bob wriggling atop her. No doubt he had heard their muffled talk. Why, right now he must be thinking the worst of she and Bob, and thinking that they were going at it like rabbits on Viagra-spiked carrots. "Oh no..." she moaned. Of course, considering the way that her mouth was rather muffled by the proximity of Bob's pants, it came out as something like "Ommmf nmmmmmf", which was rather less impressive and further entrenched the image that Alucard had no doubt already formed of the two's activities. The fact that she could talk normally in the last chapter is being conveniently glossed over - imagine that Bob has wriggled about a bit more since then, or something. Thank you. Bob was also mortified. No doubt Alucard had seen him wriggling atop Plaz. No doubt he had heard their muffled talk and imprecations. Why, right now Alucard must be thinking the worst of he and Plaz, and thinking that the two were going at it like rabbits on Viagra-spiked carrots. "Oh damn," he cursed. Of course, considering the way that his mouth was rather muffled by the proximity of Plaz's pants, it came out as something like "Ommf dmnf", which was rather less impressive and further entrenched the image that Alucard had no doubt already formed of the two's activities. The fact that he couldn't talk normally in the last chapter is being conveniently glo- oh, hang on a second, the author went too far with his Copy and Paste action there. The said fact *isn't* being conveniently glossed over, in fact, it is the basis of these opening scenes, which you are probably already aware of. So. In the depths of their mortification, Bob and Plaz did the only thing they could do, which was to be more mortified. Oh, and Bob continued to try and get at the key, but with a bit less fervour than before. * * * If Alucard had not had several hundred years bishounen conditioning, he would have been much more visibly perturbed by the goings-on of his two young wards. He would have had a crease between his eyebrows, and a vein on the side of his forehead would have been throbbing. He would have been groaning under the strain of his headache. However, because he had had several hundred years of being the bishoun cursed half breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, he did not show any of these obvious signs of perturbation. Instead, he walked stonily to the front door, his cape draped over one arm. He opened the door just in time for a pigeon to swoop through it and perch in his hair. Once the envy of all half-vampiric bishounen antihero characters, as he now looked like he had been drawn by a first year art student, his hair now rather resembled a bird's nest. Yes, even before the arrival of the pigeon. The pigeon just made it more so. "I wonder if this pigeon sitting on my head has some useful information to impart?" Alucard didn't wonder. Instead, he shouted indignantly, well, he would have had not at least six hundred years of being a bishounen had conditioned him against exhibiting such obvious indignation. The pigeon cooed, and shook one leg. Something metallic hit against the top of Alucard's head. This was enough to stop Alucard plotting what to do to the pigeon and wonder why he felt something metallic hit his head when the pigeon waved its leg. He reached up a hand and the pigeon obligingly hopped over to it. Bringing his hand down, Alucard saw that the pigeon had rather odd markings that looked vaguely like the letter P on its wings and a metal container strapped to its leg. Curious, he opened the metal container and saw a small roll of parchment within it. He retrieved the parchment and opened it. "Hello, young master," the parchment would have said had it had the proper oral equipment. As it did not have lungs and a mouth and voice box and all sorts of other anatomical bits the author doesn't want to look up right now, the parchment simply sat there in stony silence. Indeed, a better term to describe how the parchment had conveyed the words "Hello, young master" on it would be 'Alucard reading the words upon'. So let's try that again. "Hello, young master," read Alucard. "How are you? I am fine. Incidentally, you might want to go back and let Bob and Plaz out of that closet before Plaz kills Bob before making a really big faux pas, thus making your quest that much harder. That will be 1000 Australian dollars, which I have added to your tab. - The Master Librarian." Alucard looked at the small metal container on the pigeon's leg, the parchment again, and the large number of words on the parchment. He scratched his head in puzzlement. "How did the Master Librarian fit so many words on what would have to be such a small piece of parchment?" "Videogame physics," said the pigeon in a very bad Transylvanian accent. "Did you just talk?" "Wot d' *you* fink?" asked the pigeon in a very bad cockney accent. "I think you did." "Then I did. Woohoo. Another triumph for logic. Heed the Master Librarian's advice, why don't you?" asked the pigeon with no trace of an accent whatsoever because the author had suddenly ran out of ideas for bad accents. "I think I shall indeed do so, for if he is indeed correct, and I have never known him not to be correct, then it would be wise to free the two even if I find what they are doing to be vaguely repellent. Now, onwards to the closet to free my two young wards!" "Don't you mean backwards?" "Be quiet." * * * If there's something really good for mortification, it's letting it stew in its own juices for a long section of narrative describing Alucard's encounter with a talking courier pigeon. What this means is that Plaz and Bob were now extremely mortified and Bob's efforts to free the knife from Plaz's pants were extremely half-hearted, or perhaps quarter-hearted. And any minute now, Bob's efforts would become extremely limp, as would his wrist, and his hand would stop questing altogether and stop seeking out the knife, ending up resting on Plaz's rear end, for which Plaz would get incredibly angry and try very very hard to kill him even though he was currently their only hope for getting out of this closet. The seconds dragged on, during which Bob's wrist became limper and limper, and his hand's movement became slower and slower. Slower... slower... sloooooweeeeeer... "Bob?" asked Plaz, her mouth free and able to speak clearly again. This might seem a copout, but it's better than the reader trying to decipher lots of "mmph" noises, wouldn't you say? Yes? Good. "Nnnggh... too much... wrist action... tired... mortification..." Bob intoned. See the above paragraph for an explanation of why he was speaking clearly. "Bob??" asked Plaz. Yes, with two question marks this time. "Your hand, it's..." It happened. His hand stopped. Thankfully for Bob, or perhaps unfortunately, considering the circumstances, the closet door was opened at this very moment, revealing the stern countenance of Alucard, and the glassy eyed look that is traditional for pigeons of the courier pigeon's. The sudden arrival of his mentor scared Bob back into action, and his hand very very quickly removed itself from Plaz's rear end. His hand moved so fast it broke the sound barrier and caused a sonic boom, which everyone ignored. "What are you two DOING?" asked Alucard. "Trying to get free," mumbled Bob. "Feeling me up, more like it!" said Plaz indignantly. "I can't help it if the knife is in your pants pocket, and you wear really tight pants!" countered Bob. "Wouldn't that be rather uncomfortable?" asked the pigeon. "Very," said Plaz, and then did a double take. "Did you just talk?" "No, I recited the Koran backwards," said the pigeon. "What do you THINK?" "That you talked," said Plaz. "Then I did," said the pigeon. "Hooray for logic. Okay, you cursed half breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, go on, set them free." "Very well," said Alucard, and proceeded to slash through their bonds. "9999", all in white, appeared above the ropes before the ropes disintegrated in a rather unspectacular fashion. Bob and Plaz stood up and stepped into the hallway, massaging their aching joints and trying to avoid eye contact with each other. Instead, there was much embarrassed blushing and close scrutiny of the hallway's hideously green paint. "May I ask why you two were in the closet?" asked Alucard. "I got chloroformed and when I woke up I was in the closet," the two said simultaneously, then blinked. "You too?" they continued. "Enough," said Alucard, feeling his headache worsen. "This is no time for bickering or a senseless joke that involves the two of you saying the exact same thing at the exact same time. Why, right now obviously something terrible has happened to Yoshitaka Amano for I no longer am a pretty bishounen but a horrible example of why first year art students should not be character designers for Konami. This is indeed a horrible tragedy that must be investigated immediately. The fact that it may neatly intersect with our ongoing quest to defeat my father's attempts to take over the world is a happy coincidence that we must also follow up on as soon as we have determined what has happened to Yoshitaka Amano." "Really great sense of priorities, there," said the pigeon. "Actually, let me revise our plans somewhat," said Alucard. "Our most immediate priority at this very moment is..." At this point he lashed upwards with his hand and grabbed the annoying pigeon from the top of his head, and held it firmly in front of him. "Yes, our most important goal right now is to do something about this annoying pigeon that seems determined to hang around and become a regular of this story, perhaps becoming an annoying mascot even though the story is now in its final queue." "We could barbecue it," suggested Bob. "Ew," said Plaz. "Eat it? Are you serious?" "Why not?" asked Bob. "I'm hungry." "Just whip the bricks, Bob, you can get some food that way." "Ahem," ahemmed Alucard. "Yes?" asked Bob, Plaz, and the pigeon. "The pigeon?" asked Alucard, reminding them what the current topic of discussion was. "You could always let it go," said Plaz. "Listen to what the girl says," said the pigeon. "She's making sense. And besides, I belong to the Master Librarian." "Hm," said Alucard. "That does indeed change things. I don't want my tab to get any larger, after all." And thus the pigeon was freed, and it flew extremely fast away from Alucard and Plaz, but mainly Bob. "I really wanted to at least whip it," complained Bob. * * * Not very much happened for a while. It was still night after all. But night passed, as it usually does, and soon the sun rose. * * * Look upon the young Bob Belmont. While still just a young teenager, he has matured and grown. Well, at the very least he has grown. This is immediately obvious for at the moment he is not wearing a shirt, and is practicing out in the yard with his whip by the light of the early morning sun. The workout is making him sweat, but not too much, and he is glistening slightly. Were he to have tried this at the beginning of this story, it would not have been much of an effect for he was extremely scrawny with not much muscle definition back then. Now, however... Now, he is slightly less scrawny, with somewhat better muscle definition. Mind you, he still looks a lot of coat hangers, but extremely impressive looking coat hangers. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the effect was wasted on Plaz, as because it was now daytime Plaz was male. "Bob, breakfast," said Plaz. "Right on," said Bob, and finished his whip exercises and went inside to shower, the details of which are being glossed over as this is a family story. * * * "So what now?" asked Bob. Or perhaps Plaz. It doesn't matter too much, just as long as the question was asked and the opportunity for exposition provided to Alucard. "Now," said Alucard, "our mission is to discover what has happened to Yoshitaka Amano, as I did inform you two last night when I rescued you from the closet. We are also seeking answers as to why you two were chloroformed and placed in the closet, and we must never forget our overall goal of destroying my father and thus ruining his efforts to take over the world." "Ah, right," said Plaz. Or it might have been Bob, if the speaker in the above paragraph was Plaz instead of Bob. It's not entirely clear. "So, onwards," said Alucard, and strode mightily from the kitchen, his cape attempting to billow majestically behind him. However, seeing as Amano's current drawing ability was compromised, the best his cape could manage was a weak flutter. In any case, Alucard strode mightily from the kitchen and directly to the room Bob used the previous night. As he looked around the room, a message box appeared above a white piece of cottonwool, saying, "HELPFUL CLUE". Alucard picked it up, and the message box elaborated, saying, "WHAT WAS USED TO CHLOROFORM BOB LAST NIGHT." "Ah-ha," said Alucard, nodding sagely. "This is obviously what was used to chloroform Bob last night. Perhaps it holds a clue as to who wielded it in its murky depths." "It's not very big nor very murky," said Bob helpfully. "Be quiet," said Alucard. "Now, to check Plaz's room." And he did so. He found a similar piece of cottonwool and compared the piece from Bob's room with it. "Ah ha!" said the cursed half breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil. "There are similar depressions in both of them, roughly the shape of a human finger and a human thumb! I am sure that if I investigated closely, I would be able to determine that the vague fingerprints on this cottonwool belong to-" "A halfway-competent minion," said Plaz. "What?" asked Alucard, stunned into making short sentences. "He dropped this handkerchief," said Plaz. He held up a white square of material, upon which was written, "This is the property of Halfway Competent-Minion. If found, please return to the Disco Infernal, at this address." The address followed. "This would be incredibly useful if we didn't already know where the Disco Infernal was," said Bob. "Indeed that is true, young Belmont," said Alucard. "However, now we must discover what has happened to Yoshitaka Amano! Onwards!" With that he strode mightily, definitely onwards this time, and certainly not sideways or backwards. "What did the author mean by all that?" asked Bob. "That Alucard went out the front door," said Plaz. "As should we." "Right!" said Bob. "Onwards!" And onwards he strode. And then he strode backwards, when he realised he was missing his shirt and his whip. * * * Halfway Competent-Minion gulped nervously. It was not a good time for him. In fact, it was never a good time for him. Because he was halfway competent, he never screwed up badly enough to warrant an instant killing by his ultimate master, the dread Dark Priest Shaft. However, he never did anything particularly well either, and Shaft was always admonishing him with "this is yo' last chance, brutha." He'd lost count of how many last chances he'd had. He hurried to Shaft's newly regained office, worrying about what had happened now. He found Shaft in a state of undress, and a lot of women in a state of undress. He instantly coloured, and coughed nervously, catching the attention of the dark priest. "Ah, Halfway. Come on in, brutha!" "Er..." "It's simple, man. Why, in the name of Funk *handjive* and Evil did you just chloroform the Belmont boy and the Belnades girl? You had them at your mercy and you just knocked them out?" "Fernandez," said Halfway helpfully. "She's called Fer-" "Shut yo' mouth, cat," said Shaft. "Shutting it right now." There was an uncomfortable silence. "Well?" asked Shaft. "Why didn't you do kill those bad cats or something?" "I should have done that?" Halfway asked, confused. Damn. He kept on getting crucial things like that wrong. "Argh," commented Shaft. "Honestly, Halfway, if you weren't as competent as you are, being able to do at least half of things properly, you'd be *so* dead." So it was another 'last chance'. Halfway sighed. "I'll just go back to dogging our mortal enemies, including the cursed half breed son of Dracula whose human and vampire natures eternally war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil then, shall I?" "You do that, cat," said Shaft. "And this time kill them in the name of Funk *handjive* and Evil." Halfway nodded and rushed from the room. * * * "I swear," said Shaft, "he's one of the only able people around here. Everyone else can only manage about a tenth of what they're supposed to do, instead of half like he can." "Come back here, Shaft," said one of his foxes. No, not literal foxes. For those unaware, but then nobody should be unaware as this series is up to chapter 25 after all, these were rather foxy ladies, and as mentioned above, they weren't wearing very much. But Shaft calls them foxes, the etymology of which should be obvious. "Sorry foxes," said Shaft, "but I got business. Someone get me _Sancho_." * * * Alucard, Bob, and Plaz pulled up outside of the Konami building. "Very well," said Alucard. "Let us now go forth and discover what has happened to Yoshitaka Amano." * * * All the annoying in-between bits of _Sancho_ being notified of Shaft wanting to see him and making his way to Shaft's office at the Disco Infernal have been skipped out, even though it is logically impossible he made his way there so fast from wherever he was in the last chapter. Just imagine that teleport scrolls were involved, okay? "Ooh, he's so *sexy*!" squealed one of Shaft's foxes. "I..." _Sancho_ posed in only the way _Sancho_ could. "...am _Sancho_!" said _Sancho_, accentuating the pose by flexing his pecs. The foxes sighed dreamily. "Hey!" said Shaft. "What about me, foxes?" He posed and flexed. The foxes sighed dreamily again. "Yes, I, in case you forgot in the preceding ten seconds, am _Sancho_!" proclaimed _Sancho_, posing again. "And _Sancho_ has come as requested! Tell _Sancho_ what you want _Sancho_ to do, and _Sancho_ shall tell you if _Sancho_ will deign to do it!" "Stop talking about yourself in the third person, fool!" requested Shaft. "_Sancho_ cannot do that," said _Sancho_, flexing his pecs again and radiating sheer _Sancho_ essence. "It would be most un-_Sancho_ for _Sancho_ to stop referring to himself in the third person!" "You know the drill, fool," said Shaft, rubbing his temples and coming dangerously close to pulling his wig off with the force of the rubbing. "The Alucard idiot, the Belmont Boy, and the Fernandes girl or perhaps the Belnades boy. You get another chance, even though you blew it the last time. Kill 'em." "_Sancho_ agrees," said _Sancho_. "This time, _Sancho_ is _prepared_!" He laughed in a very _Sancho_ fashion to accentuate his comment. * * * "I get the feeling that something tremendously bad is about to happen," said Alucard, from deep within the Konami headquarters. "Why do you think that?" "I thought I head a very disturbing laugh on the wind." "We're inside and the windows are closed, Alucard." "...perhaps I heard it on the edges of the air conditioning, then." (_Sancho_ says "To... be... _continued_!") Author's Notes -------------- This chapter has been brought to you on a few hours of mad writing and idea-mongering. It probably shows too. But hey, it's something and this is chibi, and hopefully I didn't mangle Shaft too much, even considering this is chibi. Thanks must go to Dan Mastriani for starting this whole thing, and thus indirectly introducing me to Shaft. Thanks must also go to him for prereading. Steven Scougall 16th April 2001 http://www.crosswinds.net/~sscougall/