Casting Hell 2: Welcome to the Insanity

Mark Callaway -or ‘Taker, all depended on what sociopath was writing him this week- sat in a bar. It wasn’t any ordinary bar. No. It was a Fan Fiction bar. Not a very encouraging but when he had seen they served beer on tap, he had ambled in.

Now he was sitting with three unfinished scripts in front of him, shaking his head. He was on his fifth beer, having been slamming them down like a man dying of thirst. Contrary to what these bonehead writers liked to think; he didn’t drink whiskey all the time, or scotch, or bourbon. He liked his beer. Beer damn it, beer!

Think they listened? Oh hell no!

They never listened. Ever. He had asked two of his least favorite wenches if they’d kindly behave themselves when writing him out. He had gone along with David -or Batista, another how you wrote him deal- just to pay these bitches a visit.

He didn’t know why he expected them to follow through on their promise. They were WRITERS. Couldn’t be trusted, nope, especially them.

Or their friend. Jaden.

Lyonene, TakrLuvr and Jaden. He hated those three. He hated a lot of people but currently they were on his top five list. He didn’t know which of them ranked numero uno, maybe it was a tie.

Not So Happily Ever After, Bittersweet and Break Me Down.

All three stories featured him. All of them still unfinished. Well, at least as far as he knew.

Sighing unhappily, he flicked through Not so Happily Ever After, it was by TakrLuvr. Why did he always come out an asshole when it came to her? Well… at least so far he hadn’t caused any woman to commit suicide… yet. No, in this he was a ‘hose’ -he had to snort- wearing guy who went by the name of Sir Marcus.

Marcus? What kind of damn name was that anyway?

Anyways, nope, no suicide. Though he HAD apparently left a princess at the alter in order to go boink some commoner. He was such a classy guy. He also apparently was superficial and only dated hot blond broads.

Well… at least they were hot, right?

Ah damn, the hot blond was cheating on him.

Mark groaned, tossing aside the manuscript. He pulled Bittersweet to him next, this one was by Jaden. He hadn’t seen her when he’d stormed into TL’s and Ly’s apartment. No doubt she had been out ruining someone else’s life. “What’s she got to say this time?” He muttered to himself, signaling for another beer.

He instantly groaned. Ministry Era. What the hell was wrong with these women? There was nothing remotely sexy about him with an Amish looking goatee and a fetish for ‘sacrificing’ people. He skimmed this one too. Yep. Kane. His ‘brother’ made an appearance. Nice. Well at least they were creative. He snorted.

Oohhh the Mary Sue in this one had a scar that resembled his ‘symbol’, that was interesting. Ew. Her father branded it on her. There went that appeal. Sick sick sick.

And Steve Austin? Like there ever could be any competition. Mark snorted. Long hair was sexy.

Hmmm… he did have some good lines though. “Roses are red, violets are blue, she’s thinking of me, when she’s fucking you…” He snorted into his beer. Now that was funny.

Poor Steve. He always got the shaft.

Now the last one. Lyonene’s Break Me Down. Mark hesitantly picked this one up. Somehow, he always wound up a psychotic in her stories. He had to blink twice. As with the previous two, he skimmed through this one.

Whoa whoa whoa, the OC passed over him for SHANE MCMAHON?

“I need another beer.” Mark ordered, rubbing his eyes. What the hell was wrong with this broad? Not like he’d ever be interested in a twenty-something kid anyway. Well, okay, that was a lie but… she wasn’t blond. Automatically disqualified from the running.

AND she beat up men. Now he KNEW Lyonene was on drugs. Any woman who could roll up Bautista had to be a men with implants and a surgically made pussy.

“Why me?” He moaned, pushing all three scripts aside.

Mark was distracted from his issues by two men running into the bar. He turned on his stool to look at them, arching an eyebrow.

They both looked at him before taking seats on either side of him.

“Look, I’m not gay.” He said bluntly. “I know you see a lot of slash with me and Jeff Hardy, but it’s all fictional.”

“Quiet, you wretch. Just sit there and look intimidating.” Said the smaller man, almost androgynous in body and face. He wore gray pants that clung to his extremely thin legs and a white poet’s shirt. His hair was blond, almost resembling a mullet, pale blond shoots coming out from all over his head. Looking annoyed, he held up a grey gloved hand, a crystal appearing. Idly, he twirled it between his fingers.

“You’ll have to excuse Jareth, he’s on edge.” The other man said politely, his voice rich and musical. He offered a steely smile when Mark looked at him, half his face covered by a white mask, dark brown hair slicked back.

“You’re the Phantom Of The Opera.” Mark grunted, taking in the garb and cape, shaking his head. A character he recognized. By mask only. “Thought you were ugly?”

“I’m the movie-verse Phantom. With my mask, I am rather handsome.” MP said thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the counter of the bar. “Of course that’s Hollywood playing on women’s fantasies of a strong, handsome mysterious man. And it helps I can sing.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Jareth, the Goblin King. Labyrinth fandom.”

“What the-” Mark turned to survey the other guy. “You sure you’re not David Bowie?”

Jareth heaved a long suffering sigh. “Of course not, I’m under the MOVIE section in archives. He’s under musician.”

“You look an awful lot like Bowie.”

“If I had a crystal for every time I heard that…”

“Yeah, yeah. What the hell are you two doing here, sitting next to me?” Mark demanded, feeling a headache coming on.

“That, mon ami, is a long story.” Phantom sighed, smiling when a glass of wine was sat down in front of him. “Merci.”

　

Jareth was impatient, his eyes darting between Mark and the door. He arched an eyebrow when Mark leaned into his face. “Yes, I have a green eye and a blue eye. Now get your disgusting breath away from me, cretin.” He ordered in an imperious tone.

Now Mark was tempted to give him two matching black eyes. Smirking he took another drink of his beer, he’d just made a joke.

“We were happy in our own fandoms-” Phantom began, sighing when Jareth interrupted.

“As happy as a man can be when he has hundreds of fools writing him out at least!”

“Anyways, before I was so rudely interrupted, we were… content. Same old stories of course, I would be paired with Christine. Who -and I want this on record- is the most flighty, idiotic woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting!”

Jareth was grinning cruelly now. “She leaves him for a brash upstart in the movie.” He explained to Mark’s raised eyebrow. “So countless women write about HIM pursuing HER afterwards.”

Phantom was off his stool, drawing a rapier. “I’ll have your blood for that.” He snarled. “At least I do not pursue CHILDREN.”

“Wow…” And Mark thought he had problems.

“Is it MY fault underage sex appeals to the masses?”

“Yes!”

Before blood could be shed, Mark intervened. “You two haven’t gotten around to telling me why the hell you’re bugging me!”

“Mon dieu! We are being hunted!”

“Hunted…”

“Oui.”

“These two… wenches-” It sounded like Jareth didn’t consider the word strong enough. “Came looking for us, and they brought along a friend of theirs. She has no interest in us, she merely enjoys the chase. Disgusting.”

Mark was beginning to feel better by the second. At least nobody was hunting HIM down.

Not today at least.

“So you’re sitting by me why?”

“You’re big, scary.”

“Freakishly big, freakishly scary.” Phantom added with a nod.

“Gee, thanks.” Mark already knew where this was going. “So you want me to protect you, is that it?”

“I am the King of The Goblins, I need no protection!” Jareth screeched indignantly. He grimaced when he got a look from both men. “Please?”

How did he get involved in this shit? Really.

“Oh no…” Phantom squeaked breathlessly, cringing away from the door. “They’re here!”

“Anyone seen Jare?” A woman with short hair called, carrying a coil of rope over her shoulder. “That jackass tried tossing me into his bog of eternal stench.”

“And I want my Phannie!”

Mark paled, right along with Jareth and Phantom. “Oh no…”

“You know them?”

Mark could only nod, getting off the stool and beginning to back away. He groaned when TL and Lyonene both began sniggering at him.

“Hey ‘Taker, we’ve been looking for you too.” Lyonene said sweetly.

TL nodded, her eyes slanting wickedly. “Our friend is interested in borrowing you for awhile.”

He could feel Phantom and Jareth pressed against either side, all three men backing away.

Jaden stepped out from between her friends, grinning just as maniacally as the two women flanking her. “Undertaker… THERE you are!”

“RUN!”

TL sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as the trio attempted to scramble through the back door all at once. “Shall we then, m’dears?”

Lyonene linked her arm through Jaden’s. “Let’s.”

The bar tender shook his head, watching as the writer’s advanced on their screaming subjects. Same old, same old. It was just another day in Fan Fiction World. Though he flinched when the three men collided and went down in a heap on the floor. Easy pickings now.

“Oooohhhh, I got an idea for a story!” TL squealed, jumping up and down, watching the dazed trio try to unscramble their brains.

Jaden shot her a knowing look.

“Well, lay it on us.” Ly encouraged.

“Not yet, I don’t want THEM hearing… but it’ll star all three of them, involves time traveling and a cross dressing pigeon!”

Mark, Jareth and Phantom all groaned loudly.

“I HATE being casted by these bitches!”

“Casting Hell.” Jaden grinned. “Welcome to the insanity and please enjoy your stay!”

“Because if you DON’T, we write SLASH!” Lyonene threatened.

TL nodded seriously. “With vegetables involved. Trust us, we’re not too picky on who’s ass the cucumber ends up in, so behave and this will go as… smoothly as possible.”

“As lubed as possible, you mean.”

“I was trying to ease them into this.”

Jaden frowned. “Why? We’ve been rough with Taker before.”

“Yeah, but Jareth and Phannie are new. We need to take it slow so we don’t hurt them.” TL explained.

Jareth and Phantom were pale and wide eyed.

Mark was just trying to figure out if they were talking about the writing process or a potentially painful, humiliating sexual experience they were planning on inflicting.

Yes, Casting Hell was indeed the phrase. He had just been cast and it was hell.