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What to do? What to do? What to do?

That was indeed the question, yet how could one ever hope to decide in the midst of such mundane mobocracy? It was embarrassing quite honestly, clearly none of the fools had any idea how to appropriately express the spirit of Halloween. They tried, oh by all means they tried! Certainly no one could doubt the enthusiasm of those garbed as the living dead as they feasted upon those around them with gusto but still, it lacked a certain...something.

Strolling amongst the woefully inept chaos with his habitual brash gait the joker weaved almost nonchalantly through the meager medley, an almost paternal light in his eyes as his gaze swept the scene around him as he endeavored to discern where best his talents could be employed to properly elevate the prosaic proceedings to a media worthy position. The Gotham Globe would be a good target, it had been some time since he'd last graced their front page, the editors had been far too busy running that rubbish about Harley and Ivy, it was high time they were reminded who held the leading role!

It would be difficult though, he didn't have any of his usual inventory; no knives, gag flowers, hand buzzers, exploding cigars, laughing gas, even his harpoon gun was missing! How could comedy genius such as himself be expected to work under such primitive conditions?! Admittedly he had a flar for extemporization but still, this was positively barbaric.

A sigh escaped violaceously clad figure as he shook his head at the appalling state of affairs a sense of weariness descending upon him. The despondency however was not sufficient for him to pass up the opportunity to stick out his cane and trip a passing corpulent ninja attempting to desperately attempting to outpace his undead pursuers. "People are so inconsiderate these days." A swift strike of the can to knee. "Not everyone enjoys fast food you know, especially if it's-"

The anarchist's viridian haired head whipped round as his noxious emerald eyes hastily traced the column smoke which had caught his attention. A maniacal grin stretched across his sallow features when his gaze fixed upon the site of a garishly decorated cooking stall which was rapidly going up in flames, presumably in spite of the efforts of two toasty, inert, apron clad figures occasionally visible inside amongst the smoke. "..undercooked."

This had potential.

"Puddin'!"[/color]

A bouncing bundle of black and crimson descended upon the king of clowns before he had time to even twitch or shudder at the ignoble moniker. Granted the girl was a little dim but honestly there were so many more fitting titles she could use and she'd had ample time to think of them while she'd been away. On that note where the hell had the useless girl been? Off gallivanting again no doubt, giving no thought to how she could properly contribute to his work. She had far too long a leash these days why did he even put up with her? Clearly some discipline was needed.

Moving with a speed which belied his ostentatious appearance, the Joker calmly placed one foot to the side and pivoted away from the overly energetic figure rushing towards him. At the same time, he lashed out with his polished sword stick and caught the masked ingénue in the side with sufficient force to spin the clueless gamine, causing her to land on her shapely rear end, abruptly bringing attention to the young woman's front as all of her energy swiftly seemed to condense into the girls two rather prominent assets.

Well, perhaps the girl wasn't entirely useless; she could be handy for... this and that.

Shifting his gaze momentarily back to the burning stall the Joker eyed the glass display and window set into the side door before turning back to his own personal little jester, whose head still appeared to be spinning slightly. "Tsk tsk, Harley girl I've told you before; you can't just go sneaking up on me like that, there's no telling what I'll do."

Yanking the girl to her feet the demented comedian made a short show of brushing the young gamine down, possibly concentrating somewhat more on certain areas than others, before then sweeping an arm majestically over her shoulder and guiding the witless ingénue towards the burning stall. "I'm afraid though Harl, you're little screams given me quite the headache and so I simply cannot think properly. Don't you worry though, your mans got it all figured out; I know just how you can help me."

They stepped up to side door and without a further word the Joker grasped the back of Harley's head and rammed it through the glass sheet. "Behold, the pane is gone." Reaching an arm through the broken window to unlock door the Joker swiftly stepped through the smoke and approached what remained of the grill.

"I've always been a fan of pro-pain. HAHAHAHA!"

For many, Halloween is nothing more than a trivial pursuit, a jejune jubilee, a buoyed bonanza, a florid fete, a grandiose gala, a... well, you get the point. For others however, the occasion equates to something greater than a mere red letter day. Indeed for one soul in particular the commemoration of Allhallows eve was a recherché event with potential unequaled almost anywhere else. After all, when else is a country's populace provided, nay encouraged, to embrace the shroud of anonymity and the dissolution of inhibition such freedom inevitably evokes.

In short it was a night for the common sheep to display their darker sides and revel in that which they are all too often denied. For imaginations to expand beyond the quotidian lexicon of pathos and embrace a rather more morbid mien with which to manifest the inherent incubus within the mortal mind and thereby attain a new magnitude of self actualization.

There was also free candy which was, of course, far more important.

Sauntering through the crowds with the slightest hint of a skip in his step Hull's features twisted into morbid grin as an effervescent tune whistled forth from crimson painted lips, pausing occasionally to enjoy a solitary sour sweet summoned forth from seemingly empty fingers at odd intervals. At the same time, onyx ringed eyes swung gleefully back and forth beneath the generous brim of a rich violaceous cordobe styled hat which served to throw his freshly chalked features into shadow among the pools of light generated by the overhead lamps, thus leaving passersby with only a hint of pearly teeth and venomous emerald eyes.

In truth however, the purple silk suit and rich coral waistcoat combined with the polished obsidian cane and sinister sterling handle were far more likely to draw the eye than the Canadian killers own bleached features. They were after all a symbol; the motif of a truly unique and inspiring character whose origins and history had been woefully cast aside in this purportedly 'modern age'. Still, all was not lost, for as long as children were willing to accept candy from strangers there was hope; not of salvation, oh goodness no, but of entertainment, for example...

The sable cane flashed outwards and abruptly barred the path of two diminutive juveniles attired as a knight and ghost respectively. 'Well now what have we here?' The sinister slaughter inquired as he tilted his features into the light and greeted the adolescents with a demented grin. 'A pair of strapping young lads well on their way to mischief, mayhem and misery perhaps?... just nod boys.' This latter instruction was added with a slight frown after both youth's simply remained speechless before following the order causing Hull to beam at them once again.

'Wonderful, in that case take these, after all what is Halloween without tricks and treats? Come now don't be shy, they're full of sugar and other insalubrious chemicals, quite the treat I assure you.' The foreign fiend held out a pair of rainbow dyed, overly warm jawbreakers to the two diminutive children and his eyes danced with malevolent mirth as both youths suspiciously accepted the candies and developed pleased expressions of their own as they tasted the saccharine sweetness.

'Capital, now then I wonder if you two could do me a little favour?' Both boys were abruptly handed a pair of scissors and spun by their shoulders until they were pointed towards an innocuous group of costume goers. 'You see, I can't help but feel that a few individuals are a little overdressed, you might say and could use something of a trim don't you agree?'

A mere minute later Hull was once again on his way, whistling a new yet no less cheerful tune as he watched the youths set about the mutilation of a careless characters costume before idly pivoting away and losing himself amongst the meandering crowd. There would be screamingly shortly, of that there was little doubt, he'd nuked the jawbreakers himself after all and though he would have enjoyed observing the inevitable brouhaha which arose from the sweets molten cores, the night was still young and there was much left to do.

Trick or treat... whoever said you couldn't do both?

Mr. BB was not making many friends at the moment, no siree; but truly that was only to be expected from someone who could not fully appreciate the prodigious awe projected by a pirate captain and a petite, though powerful, loose cannon. If circumstances were more proper and if time permitted the punishment for such blatant disrespect would have been a good old fashioned keel hauling, sadly the current scene lacked both an appropriate hull to be dragged across and barnacles to perform the necessary lacerations, and so BB was safe, for now at least.

What kind of parent gave their progeny the initials BB anyway? Did they not realize the life of mockery and derision they would ultimately be sentencing their child to? The imaginations of children were not to be underestimated under any circumstances! The possibilities were almost endless; Billy Bob, Banana Brain, Butter Ball, Bebop Baby, Boob Buster, Ballroom Blitz, Breakthrough Bleeding, Brokeback Bloke, Bantam Bug, Barbie Boy and even, yes... Beyond Boring which really was all the man amounted to right now, that and being a kill joy; after all he wasn't even attempting to join in the fun-

"...I will however often to lend... you a hand for the cut of the loot."[/color]

Hull blinked, his thoughts abruptly derailing once again as he processed this unexpected affirmation of his awesome status; Bacchus had just placed himself under the command of Captain Darling, which could only mean one thing... he had a new minion! Another luckless soul to do his bidding and further enhance his reputation as a dread pirate of the intergalactic house of pancakes! Soon the world would be his for the taking, however credit where credit was due, he crouched down and ruffled the hair of his first mate.

"A fine job there Ms. Phaust, you be handling all our new hands from now's on."

Recognition of achievement and good human resources were the corner stone of any despotic argosy.

”Where is your ship?”[/color]

"Arr?"

Hull glanced up at his latest crew member and his gaze narrowed slightly as he noticed the smirk on the other mans features. BB thought he was being clever did he? Well they couldn't have that now could they? After all what sort of pirate would Captain Darling be if he didn't have a ship? Well, obviously a revolutionary one leading a new way for pirate kind everywhere, but that currently beyond the scope of the scenario in question.

Giving Bachhus a demented grin the sinister anarchist leapt back up to is full height and jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the puzzled 'Eli' currently occupied in a rather futile endeavor to remove the strips of duck tape which had muzzled her.

"Our ship be right there matey, now you be helping us to make her sea worthy or won't ya?"

He'd have his epic mount yet.

The mind tends to work in strange ways, making incomprehensible leaps and connections between variously stimuli that even the most advanced mind would be unable to consciously decipher. Imagine then what would happen to the thought processes of an individual whose mind has been subject to quite significant impetus not once, but twice. To put it laconically, erratic would not even begin to describe the resulting thought processes.

Most people would likely it quite difficult to function under such conditions, fortuitously however Hull's mind had always been somewhat... unique, and thus was accustomed to inordinate influx's of chaotic ideas and had become quite adept at filtering them into something resembling a productive line of thought. Therefore what had originally been a tumbling stream of consciousness ranging from the practicality of puppy's as mobile explosives, the optimum points of dispersal for an airborne toxin within the local subway, to the metaphysical effect the colour pink has over the majority of mundane minds in a life or death situation.

All these idea and more were sorted and compiled in order of relevance and potential amusement, ultimately allowing the wandering psychopath to contrive a course of action which would not only fail to occur to most individuals but also generally cause some poor soul a great deal of... unpleasantness, thereby allowing the twisted torturer to enjoy the sensation of schadenfreude.

In this particular instance the deranged anarchists initial plan was simply to plant a bullet behind each of the intruding juggernauts eyes, however when said juggernaut revealed a certain potential for growth the sinister slaughter's mind crafted a tableau of the city being demolished by an immense form which towered over the landscape. Things would be far more amusing of this man were to live, however as he still seemed to retain an element of hostility a less straightforward approach would be preferable.


Nodding in sagely manner at Banes final question Hull laid a firm hand on Kaitlyn's shoulder before meeting the other mans gaze. "Aye I understand, you be concerned for yer charges and so you deserve an answer." The hand on the petite child's shoulder clamped done further as Hull swiftly maneuvered the young girl in front of him and held her there as one would a rather inadequate shield.

"Tell him what we be doin' here Ms. Phaust."

It is no secret that cash is the lifeblood of every business, without it materials cannot be purchased, labour cannot be compensated for its services and no investments can be made. This is true of every industry in existence, even those dealing in chaos will, at times, require some form of funding to continue their anarchistic operations. For their comes a point where you simply have to have that sniper rifle/cannon/mortar/tank/[insert weapon of choice here] capable of screwing over not only that one poor soul on the horizon but everyone near him as well.

However, there a certain difficulties imposed on such acquisitions when one's business happens to fall under the classification of terrorism. For one it tends to limit you to suppliers who will only accept payment in cash, secondly obtaining income is rather difficult when you tend to blow up, disintegrate or otherwise destroy the majority of the assets in your possession. The standard solution to these two prominent obstacles is to engage in a side business of some sort with high, inelastic demand and relatively low production costs.

Drugs were generally a good choice however in a city like New York the market was somewhat oversaturated at the moment. Weapons were also an option, violence and hatred are as good an addiction as any other after all, yet such a business was rarely a one man operation and tended to require a considerate amount of logistical skill and an infrastructure to base them on. Sex however, well that could be exploited in a number of ways and it possessed a market with near infinite potential for growth and, with today's technology, minimum operational costs which permitted more than reasonable pricing.

-

Secluded in one of Sanctuary's many unoccupied residential rooms Hull's features glowed dimly in the light reflected from the monitor of a computer he'd recently appropriated from one of his supposed neighbors. A digital camera lay on the desk beside him, it's case unclipped and a single wire extending from the devices internal workings to one of the computers ports and as the Canadian killer watched an emerald progress bar slowly began to fill.

Originally photography required the use of gunpowder, an excellent beginning in Hull's humble opinion, then scientific advancement replaced the aforementioned powder with light bulbs and moved on to the creation of a black room, which while no longer quite as fun, proved to be an excellent location for storing cadavers. With the progression of computer technology though came not only the disposable digital camera, which eliminated all need for a black room, but also the advent of photo editing technology...

With the files successfully transferred the emerald eyed menace made a swift backup before deftly running them through the conveniently available CS photostore 6_TM. Admittedly his experience with this particular program was severely limited but with a photographic memory and the scientific method at his disposal Hull was reasonably confident he'd be able to make the adjustments necessary to change an already eye catching suggestive image of an enticing brunette into a far more provocative and overall alluring piece of work.

Whoever said home projects weren't fun?

--One Week Later--

Blinking Hull exhaled and leaned back from the computer in order to savor his sense of accomplishment, then he quietly copied the backed up files he'd made at the beginning of the week to three separate unobtrusive memory sticks and swiftly placed two of them into his own storage before rising from his seat and opening the curtain of a nearby window, allowing natural light to flood the room for the first time in days.

A minute later both the computer and monitor were hurled though the uncovered window with no small amount of force accompanied by the rather vociferous exclamation.

"F*ck this!"

--Another Week Later--

The Canadian killer grinned as he eyed the display before him, he'd found that NYU hosted a surprising number of computer graphic artists and it had been a relatively simple manner to learn the name of one of the more talented designers, track down their immediate family, abduct them to a warehouse fitted with wireless explosives and then extort the services he needed for an incredibly reasonable fee.

The final product was impressive to say the least; standing with feet slightly spread and shoulders thrown back was a pale but voluptuous girl with trailing waist length auburn hair which made absolutely no effort to conceal her utter lack of dress. A touch of scarlet colored the gamines expression of shock and defiance, suggesting a level of embarrassment and vulnerability.

The blush did not cease at the brunettes face though but traveled down her ivory skin to the swell of her breasts, gradually fading as it did so until the eye was invariably drawn to the peaks, only to discover that a thin , curving strip of bone had risen to defend what little there was of the girls modesty while still revealing the undersides of her breasts. A swift glance southwards would find that a similarly scant barrier also guarded the apex of her thighs. Such was the paleness of the gamines skin however that both coverings blended almost seamlessly with her flesh.

The best part though was that the original photos had been taken at a high enough resolution to permit full, body length posters without any loss of quality, or at least none that Hull could find as he scanned the first print.

He was in business, all he needed now was a publisher.

((Continued in: Bone Bikini Babe))

The menagerie was somewhat less Spartan than the Canadian killer recalled from his previous encounter; indeed it almost seemed as though the area had been neglected for quite some time, possibly this was due to the numerous... incidents, which had occurred throughout sanctuary since the malevolent murderer arrival. Alternatively the caretaker had simply become rather lackadaisical in their duties; a few of the creature did seem rather thin.

Hull considered this something of a bonus, if the animals were hungry than it just meant they'd be more motivated to seek out a meal and thus generate additional chaos when they made it to the main areas of sanctuary. Still though, the twisted traveler couldn't help but feel that something was missing, that a sine qua non was somehow lacking. The malevolent wanderer paused and took stock of the rooms creatures once more, emerald eyes darting from cage to cage. jumbo rats, check. hand sized fly's, check. gargantuan snakes, also check-

"Cap'n, are we in the right room?"[/color]

The deranged anarchist abandoned his impromptu mental listing and his gaze shifted to the petite child on his left shoulder. The girls enthusiasm seemed to have waned upon spotting the supersized animals, a response Hull simply couldn't fathom, seriously, what wasn't to like about snakes which could constrict a car? Children these days seemed to have no real sense of adventure, it was a most deplorable state of affairs which needed to be dealt with.

"Course we are lass, use yer deadlights, can't ya see what we be havin' here? An almighty menagerie, they be t' perfect distraction. And while they be causin chaos up above, we can gather more hands without interference."

Now where had he been? Ah yes; rats, fly's, snakes, spiders and... what was through door number two over there? In the interests of science he was obligated to find out what was worth hiding in another room. It could just be a supply closet, it could just be a bathroom, or it could be the base of operations for previously undiscovered mole men working around the clock to disrupt the natural flow of the earth's mantle to induce aberrant tectonic plate movement and thus generate numerous earthquakes around the globe, destroying cities, compromising global infrastructure and eventually bringing an end to modern civilization.


...well, it could.

In any case nothing would be proven until the first step was taken, thus with a handful of confident strides Hull approached the door, braced one hand against the frame and with the other wrenched the portal open; ready to act at a moment's notice should any dwarf like figures appear. If anyone was going to bring down humanity, it would be him, thank you very much.

No diminutive creatures emerged from the surprisingly large chamber, and while this was somewhat disappointing it was more than made up by the presence of the creature in the overly large cage.

Giant monitor lizards were far superior to mole men.

Epic mount anyone?

A mantra often espoused by those unable to defend themselves is that' violence never solves anything.'

Taken utterly out of context the statement, in and of itself, is rather accurate; mere violence does not solve anything, it merely postpones an issue by forcing the parties involved to recover and so at best presents only a short term remedy. What many people often omit from such an argument however is that the ultimate conclusion of violence is death, and as everyone knows, death cures all illness and settles all debts. It is the final solution.

Hull had long ago come to appreciate this universal truth and so as his mind cleared away the last vestiges of the phantom pain which had suffused his thoughts the twisted torturer's attention returned to the blonde specimen laid out before him and his toxic emerald eyes narrowed as he considered the comatose child in the dim flickering glow of the sewer lamp. The gamine clearly possessed some of form of telepathy in order for her to transpose her pain onto others and though the Canadian killer may not have been sane but neither was he masochist.

The sinister slaughterers hand rose and hovered briefly over the adolescents skull, argent fingers uncurling with a measured motion before they descended and lit upon the side of the child's face in a manner similar to a morbid arachnid. Thumb and forefinger were positioned over one of the gamines eyes and adroitly pulled back the closed eyelid to reveal unresponsive ashen iris's. Unwilling to rely on such a basic indicator any further though the malevolent murderer gave the eye a cursory flick with another finger and when that too failed to elicit a response the demented wander released his grasp, allowing the ingenue head to fall back to its prior position upon the stone slab.

The girl was well and truly out, now would be best the time to conclude things; a single incision could end things with the minimum amount of fuss. It wasn't how he'd planned things to end but then, he rarely put much stock by such things; fare better to remain flexible. The malicious wanderers hand formed a loose fist and a pristine switchblade swiftly flickered into existence to occupy the space. The only remaining issue was location, location, location.

The tip of the blade quickly dropped down to the base of Katrina's skull, it's edge biting lightly into the girls tender skin until new beads of blood swelled. If the girl's head were tilted the jugular vein would make itself a most convenient target, and the child's own heart would expel the blood from her body, yet that was so cliché.

The knife trailed down further, never easing it's pressure as it crafted a thin crimson line down the gamines spine before pausing a short distance below the shoulder blades. Both the lungs and heart were accessible at this level and indeed were quite convenient targets as a thrust from this angle would entirely circumvent the meager protection offered by the ribs-

The sound of shifting rusted metal abruptly sliced through the foreign fiends morbid musings and his attention swiftly redirected to the source of the unexpected intrusion; someone was coming down the manhole from above, and given the odds of someone conducting any form of maintenance or inspection at this time of day that visitors would not be friendly. Still, guests were guests and needed to be greeted appropriately, Hull's freehand raised and flexed as an MP5 blinked into life within its grasp. The weapon was aimed casually at the sewer entrance and deftly tracked the first man to descend the latter.

"Ah, company! This is wonderful, I so rarely get the chance to entertain-"

“Get away from the girl,”[/color]

"And you brought housewarming gifts, how thoughtful. "

Hull's cheerful affectation changed not a single iota as he stared into the muzzle of the firearm leveled in his direction. It was merely a pistol and even if it were a semiautomatic it wouldn't match up to a submachine gun which was an optimal weapon in narrow confines such as this. His grin only widened as noticed more armed bodies descending the ladder, and idly he wondered if the sewer's structural integrity would be able withstand a pipebomb; he'd always enjoyed dynamite fishing when he was younger, perhaps he could-

One of the men stepped forward.

"Ah ah ah, careful there." The switch blade was rapidly relocated to Katrina throat. "Did you know it takes less than five pounds of pressure to pierce the epidermis and rupture the jugular vein? It's really quite a convenient fact really but it does tend to make quite the mess and I'm not sure you properly appreciate that. Now why don't you toss your little gifts into the water and we can go on from there hmm?"