Helloooo, ladies, gentlemen, and anyone outside or in-between. I am here with my newest fanfiction, and I'm really excited to write this one, now that I have it all planned out. This is a prequel to RHPS, set during the time span of three years between when the Transylvanians first come to Earth and when the events of the musical take place. It also acts as a sequel to my other story, Most Beautiful, though that story focuses solely on Riff Raff and Magenta and is much less humor-oriented than this one will be. You don't have to read Most Beautiful in order to read this, since I will reference the important elements from it. But, y'know, if you want to read it, you can. . . . *shameful self promotion*

Name: Over at the Frankenstein Place

Genre: Adventure/Humor

Fandom: The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Rating: M (for violence, language, drug use, and sexual situations.)

Summary: Life on Earth takes a lot of adjusting to, as a prince and his servants are finding out. This planet seems to be more full of surprises than they ever expected.

Pairings: Frank/Columbia, Riff Raff/Magenta, Eddie/Columbia, Eddie/Frank, one-sided Magenta/Columbia

RHPS belongs to Richard O'Brien.

Chapter 1: Starman

Dr. Scott was a highly irritable man when he was sleepy, as any of his coworkers could tell you. A curse spat in German, a smack of a table with his hand, a threat against someone's life, it was all part of his routine when it got to be late at night. Other than these moods, he was amiable, even sweet. But it was currently eleven twenty-one p. m., and no one in the UFO Investigation Branch of the FBI, set in the middle of Texas, wanted to be the one to call him in.

"I'm not doing it," Cheryl said. "Last time I was the one to call him in this late, he almost bit my ear off through the phone. You do it, Dave."

"Hell no," Dave said. "Do you think I want to be the one to hear his weird demon voice? I vote on Antoine."

"You're not throwing me on the phone with him," Antoine said. "You couldn't pay me to do it."

This sort of bickering went on until Michael, a particularly brave soul (or particularly stupid and naive, either was accurate) went to pick up the phone and dial in Dr. Scott's number. The others waited with bated breath.

The phone clicked. "Vhat?" Dr. Scott's thick German accent came through. "Vhat is it? Who ze hell is calling me so late?"

"Dr. Scott," Michael said, his voice bright and cheery. "It's Michael, Michael Perkins? Your coworker -"

"I know who ze hell you are," Dr. Scott's voice growled out, and Michael jumped a bit at the harshness. He could now see what Dave had meant by "weird demon voice." "Vhat do you vant? You'd better have a good reason for vaking me up."

"Er - you're breaking up a bit, sir -"

"Don't call me 'sir,'" Dr. Scott's rough voice responded, and after a bit of fuzzy noise on the other end, his words came in much clearer. "Scheiß drauf," he said in German, "do you hear me now?"

"Ah, yes sir - I mean, Dr. Scott," Michael said. "You're coming in fine. I'm fine, too, don't you, uh, think it's good to be fine?"

"Vhat do you vant, dummkopf?" Harsher now, almost a yell.

"Uh. . . ." Michael said. "Well. . . . now then, Dr. Scott, you know we've always talked about the possibility of an invasion. . . ."

"A vhat?"

"An invasion, Dr. Scott, an alien invasion. Well, now the thing is -"

"If you're calling me to tell me zat Cheryl pulled anozer prank on you to make you zink zat you need to wear a tinfoil hat to survive an invasion like last week, I svear, I vill personally make sure -" He was yelling now, and quite heartily.

"No! No, no -" Michael stammered. "What I mean to say, um, is that, one of our agents, he saw just a, um, funny little thing on the scanners, and it was just a little. . . . funny. Well, I'll tell you what he saw, he saw a UFO. . . . land near your hometown. "

"Scheiß auf eis, are you joking?" Dr. Scott's voice almost blew right through the phone. "A real UFO? Are you serious?"

"Yes -"

"Scheißkerl, I need to get over zere! Vhy did no von tell me sooner?" Dr. Scott raged on the other side of the phone. "I'm getting over zere, as soon as possible, don't any of you touch anyzing!"

When Dr. Scott finally made it to the headquarters, he burst into the room on his wheelchair, almost running over Dave and Antoine as he zipped by, heading for the nearest scanner. "Vhere is it? Vhere is ze UFO sighting?"

"It's - it's right here, Dr. Scott," Cheryl stuttered a bit. She turned the scanner to the pinpointed sight - a large clearing in the middle of a deserted forest near Denton. A beeping indicated that something had indeed landed there. Something that wasn't of an identifiable origin.

"Vhere did it come from?"

"It came from outer space," Antoine said. "It was moving so fast we almost didn't catch it. But it slowed down significantly before it touched the surface, and we believe it may have been landing there on purpose. None of our readings have indicated that it is of terrestrial origin."

"Heil dem Führer, we have a sighting!" Dr. Scott laughed, but his voice was still so thick with sleepiness that it came out sounding almost Satanic. "We need to investigate zis as soon as possible!"

When he looked out of the window, all Frank saw was trees. Trees everywhere around their castle, some brushing against it directly, others far away. He made a mental note to have Riff Raff cut down a few, in case a storm hit and caused the beautiful windows to get scratched up by branches.

He giggled in almost childish delight as he turned and nearly skipped to where Riff Raff was manning the controls. Their matching black and gold spacesuits were gleaming in the bright lights of the pink control room, which would also double as their lab. The dome-shaped glass that served as the roof glimmered faintly, and through it, Frank could see stars that were not Transylvanian in the slightest.

"Oh, Riff Raff!" He said, throwing his arms around his handyman from behind and leaning his head against the fake hunchback. Riff Raff tensed, but said nothing. "We're here, finally here! On Earth, of all planets, can you believe it? Magenta!"

Frank let go of Riff Raff and turned to where his domestic stood, halfheartedly dusting a few corners of the room. She looked up only when he was a foot away from her, and squeaked in protest when he hugged her as well, lifting her off her feet and spinning her a bit. "I cannot wait to see the sights, to see the Earthlings, don't you think this will be wonderful? Mmmm, yes," he turned away from her and strutted to the elevator, pausing in front of it and looking back to face his two servants with a playful smirk.

This, he thought, will be a time of fun. He was on Earth on a mission - explore it, see how fit it was for Transylvanian colonization, study its creatures and maybe make a few scientific breakthroughs on the way. But there would be time for that later. . . . now he only wanted to go out and have fun. It had taken roughly three weeks to travel from Transsexual to Earth, and he had been holed up in this castle with no one but his unresponsive employees for company.

Frank needed some action, and action he would get. "We're going out. All of us. Come now, let's go."

"Master, do you think that's a good idea? We don't know what's out there -" Riff Raff cut himself off at Frank's scathing look.

"Of course we don't know what's out there. We're here to find out, are we not?" And with that, he stepped into the elevator and motioned for them to do the same. "Come!"

Frank had brought his favorite pickup truck from Transsexual, and he drove enthusiastically on the small road that they'd parked the castle near. Fast pace, sharp turns, lots of hills so that his stomach jumped when they went down. Yes, he thought. This. This is good. This is exciting. The adrenaline of the ride made his heart erratic and his hands tremble a bit on the wheel.

A new world. And such a beautiful one, too.

The moon was high and full above them, casting a silvery sheen across the land. The skeletal black trees whipped past them, a few leaves fluttering by the sides of the truck. The street was a thick dark path around them, and Frank hadn't the slightest clue where they were going, just that he needed to see it all. He needed to drink it all in and get intoxicated on the sights.

He had completely forgotten that his servants were in the backseat until Riff Raff sputtered out, "Master, are you going to remember the way back?"

Frank turned in his seat to face them. Riff Raff was clutching the roof handle like his life depended on it, his face vaguely paler than usual, looking frightened at the speed that they were going. Magenta - who had refused the front seat and instead opted to sit in the back with her brother - was gripping his arm, looking positively green and ready to vomit at any second from carsickness. Frank smiled at them and turned the wheel a little, causing the truck to swerve a bit off the street, and Magenta burst out "Fuck, keep your eyes on the road!"

Normally, Frank would've reached back and smacked her for such an insolent comment toward her master. But tonight, he was feeling good enough to laugh and turn back to watch the street. "Oh, you both worry far too much," he said. "See, Magenta, I'm looking at the road. And Riff Raff, do forget about whether I'll remember the way home and worry more about your sister's nausea."

Silence greeted him from the backseat, and he adjusted the rearview mirror to look at them. Their eyes were wide, and Magenta looked two seconds away from blowing her dinner. He smiled again. "By the looks of it, we're almost in town anyway, so you won't have to worry about my crazy driving anymore."

Eddie von Scott worked six days a week at a crappy twenty-four-hour pizza joint in a crappy part of town with a crappy boss and crappy coworkers. The people who came in were generally single mothers looking for something quick for their kids, an occasional homeless person, and potheads who had the munchies.

Not that Eddie had anything against these types of people. His mom had been a single parent, he had been homeless for a good while, and he himself was a munching pothead. Still, it was Denton, and the underbelly of the seeming home of happiness wasn't as pretty as all the white Christian upper/middle class majority would've liked to believe.

Take now, for instance. As Eddie leaned against the alleyway of the store, enjoying a cigarette on his break, one of the strangest-looking pickup trucks he'd ever seen rounded the corner and almost crashed into a parking space in front of the restaurant. It was a sleek, shiny black, with almost neon blue headlights and a soft glow coming from the inside. Those, however, weren't the strange parts; the strange part was the gaudy white lightning-bolt design on the hood, with what looked to spell out "Furter" on the sides.

It wasn't nearly as weird, however, as the people who hopped out of it. One of the back doors opened and a woman came nearly sprinting out, hitting the nearest trashcan before vomiting with such a force Eddie was almost afraid she'd heave out her organs. Two men got out of the car afterwards, one blonde and one dark-haired, and the blonde man - Eddie saw that he had a large hunchback, poor guy - rushed to the woman's side to put a hand on her back and mutter soothingly when she came up for air. The dark-haired man marched to them in a haughty manner, and Eddie heard him declare "Oh, really, you could have told me if carsickness was that much of a problem!" The three wore matching suits. . . . if suits was the right word for what they had on. Black and gold coverings that didn't leave anything up to the imagination with their hips and waists; the dark briefs and garter fishnets barely covered anything. Their hair was all up, the two men having odd-looking ponytails at the tops of their heads, the woman with a red Bride of Frankenstein-esque beehive hairdo. And the makeup - all three wore dramatic, theatrical makeup. Red lips, smokey eyes, white faces.

Eddie found himself giving them mental nicknames before he'd even realized it. It was a habit of his, to give people names in his mind so that he didn't have to remember them by their physical features alone. It felt more humanising, in that way, for them to have names. And these three people. . . . he didn't even know if they would leave and he'd never see them again after she was done throwing up, but they were so odd and out of place that he had to call them something. It would be too much just to describe them. The woman, who had now stopped her sickness to breathe deeply as she leaned over the garbage can, was dubbed Elsa Lanchester due to her hair. The blonde hunchback reminded him a bit of Igor, with his skeletal body and wide eyes, so Igor was what he became. And the third man. . . .

As the last man looked away from Igor and Elsa, Eddie caught sight of that hint of wildness in his eyes, that air of what could only be described as rock 'n' roll about him. This man was undeniably beautiful, sexy even, and Eddie was comfortable enough with his own sexuality to think so. This. . . . this starman would be dubbed Alice Cooper. There was no one else who could fit the bill for him.

And Alice, it seemed, had set his sights on Eddie. That pair of olive-green eyes fixated themselves on him and a white grin broke out against his bloody red lips, and he strutted toward Eddie with such confidence it almost made Eddie want to puff out his chest and show this man that he, too, could be that self-assured. And when Alice was in front of him, smiling like the Cheshire Cat, he couldn't help but smile right back at him and say, "Hey, buddy. What's up?"

For some reason, Alice seemed delighted at this statement, and let out a low giggle that definitely matched his physical sex appeal. He spoke, low and husky in an accent that Eddie couldn't place. "How do you do, ah. . . ?" He held out his hand for a shake, his voice trailing off, inquiring after Eddie's name.

"Eddie," he responded, and when he took Alice's hand, instead of having it be shaken, Alice took it to his lips and kissed his knuckles. Eddie felt the heat go straight to his cheeks.

"Eddie," Alice purred. "So nice to meet you. If you don't mind, would you tell me where we are, exactly? My companions and I are new to this town, and you see, we don't even really know the name. . . ."

"Denton is the name of the town," Eddie said. "Home of happiness, or so the big breadwinners would have you believe."

The other two made their way over. Elsa was swaying slightly, holding Igor's arm as if it were her lifeline, and Igor had his wary blue eyes fixed on Eddie. They stopped a few meters away from where he stood with Alice, but Alice would have none of that, motioning to them to move closer. "Come on now, you two, don't be so antisocial. Feeling better, Magenta?"

Elsa nodded a bit, but the expression on her face indicated that she likely wasn't really feeling better at all. Eddie grinned at her - damn, she was a gorgeous - and said, "You doing alright, baby? Saw you puking over there; looked pretty raunchy."

"I'm fine," she said, her voice a bit snippy, and she seemed to squeeze Igor's arm tighter. Her own eyes, a brighter shade of green than Alice's, were regarding him with suspicion.

"Now, there's no need to be rude," Alice admonished her. "Eddie here was just telling me that we're in the town of Denton. The 'home of happiness,' I believe you called it?" He turned to look back at Eddie and took his hand again, rubbing the back of his fingers gently with a thumb. "Mind telling us a bit more? We're so very lost."

"Sure," Eddie said. "Come inside, I can tell you more over some nice greasy pizza."

Alice followed him without letting go of his hand, swinging it slightly as they stepped into the restaurant. It was small, dingy, and Eddie almost felt ashamed for working there. He wanted to impress Alice, to make him think that Eddie worked a much comfier, better-paying job. . . . but Alice seemed utterly fascinated, taking in everything with a childlike curiosity. When Eddie led him up to the counter, he dropped Eddie's hand, eyes scrutinizing the menu like he'd never seen pictures of pizza before.

Eddie's coworker, Mickey, made his way over to them. Mickey was the only other person in the restaurant; it was nearly one in the morning, and so few customers meant few employees to work. Mickey snorted a bit - he was a greaser with quite a few hygiene issues - and said, "Welcome to Alberto's Pizza, may I take your - what the hell do you want, Eddie?" His lazy voice became irritated quickly. "Shouldn't you be on break?" His eyes went to Alice, and then travelled back to Igor, who stood a ways away with Elsa. "Who the hell are these flits?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," Alice said. He reached out a hand and gave Mickey an eager smile. "My name is Frank N. Furter; you can call me Frank. And these," he turned and waved at the other two, "are my faithful attendants, Riff Raff and Magenta Vitus. Such a pleasure to meet you -"

"We don't serve flits," Mickey was eyeing him with open disgust. "You get these faggots out of here, Eddie -"

"Now, hold on a second, Mick," Eddie said. "I'm paying for them. And technically, we can't refuse anyone service." It was true. Their boss had a strict policy that they serve anyone, regardless of who the person was. Money was money, after all. "Come on, Mick, I'll even go back and make the pizza."

"Whatever," Mickey grumbled. "What do you want?"

"You order for us, Eddie," Alice said, and Eddie noticed that he'd backed away from the counter a bit and was regarding Mickey with a haughty stare. "Anything you like."

"Family sized pineapple, then," Eddie said, and once he'd paid, he made his way to the kitchen to bake the pizza.

When he came back out, his three guests were seated at a booth near the window, Elsa and Igor on one side, Alice on the other. He supposed he should start thinking of them by their real names, since he'd finally learned them, but his mind refused. He placed the pizza on the table and slid in next to Alice, who gave him a grin and said, "Why thank you, Eddie. We haven't had much to eat in the past few hours, what with our. . . . travelling."

"No problem," Eddie said. He looked at Elsa, who was eyeing the pizza with apprehension. "You gonna be able to eat, baby? Or are you still feeling sick?"

". . . . I think it'd be better if I didn't," she muttered. Igor looked at her with concern, but picked up a piece of pizza and nibbled at it himself.

"I love it!" Eddie noticed then that Alice was practically stuffing his face, and was talking to him in between bites. "I say, what do you call this delicious food?"

"Pineapple pizza," Eddie said with a laugh, helping himself to a piece. "Glad to see you're happy with it."

"Tell me, Eddie," Alice said, and Eddie felt his knee brush against him. "What was it that your friend was calling us? Flits? Faggots?"

"Er - you don't know?" Eddie felt the surprise leak into his expression. Dressed like he was, how could he not know? When he looked at Igor and Elsa, they seemed to be just as lost, looking at him with curiosity. "Um, well. They both mean men who date other men."

"And that's considered a bad thing around here?"

"Yeah." Jesus where are these people from? France? "But I mean, between you and me," he leaned in a bit and muttered, "I've always been a little of a flit myself."

Alice blinked once and then smirked. He moved so close to Eddie that for a second Eddie thought Alice was going to kiss him. But Alice merely ran a finger along his jaw and said, "Between you and me, I don't care about gender at all." Then he sat back and turned to grin at his companions, who didn't look at all perplexed about his behavior. "Now, we'd like to hear about Denton, wouldn't we? Tell us about it."

Eddie shook himself out of a slight daze - that perfume Alice was wearing was intoxicating - and told them about Denton. The happy hearts, the smiling faces, the tolerance for the ethnic races. . . . the big underground weed operation, the high rates of divorce, the racial violence. Alice listened with rapt attention, and Igor was watching him speak with interest. Elsa seemed more preoccupied with taking small bites of her pizza, having decided that eating might have been worth the trouble, anyway.

Cheryl and Antoine were ordered to get plenty of pictures to give to Dr. Scott, and what they found at the landing sight made them start clicking their cameras furiously.

A castle. A large, gothic castle, placed unceremoniously in the center of the clearing, with a slight mist of smoke hanging around it. If this was the UFO, Antoine said, then it sure wasn't doing a very good job of hiding itself.

Still, they got pictures from every angle they could, and just as Cheryl suggested that they try to go inside, they heard the distant sounds of something driving down the road. At first they were unconcerned - they might have been in the middle of nowhere, but it wasn't unusual to have a car passing. But when the headlights pulled into the direction of the castle, Cheryl pulled Antoine into the direction where their own little buggie was hidden in the trees, and they watched from a distance as an odd-looking pickup truck pulled in front of the castle, parking right in front of it.

A trio of people walked out, and though Cheryl and Antoine couldn't see them very well in the dark of the night, they saw the vague shapes of three people get out of the truck and make their way into the castle. Cheryl was about to take a photo, but Antoine nudged her and whispered, "We don't want them to hear the clicking."

They distant sounds of one of them laughing made its way to their ears, and Cheryl shuddered a bit. Aliens. They've got to be aliens.

I hope they're aliens.

AN: I'm wondering how many people caught the reference to Dr. Strangelove in here, ha ha. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed!