User blog:The Flatwoods Monster/Helena vs Reverend Harry Powell. Villainous Rap Battles of Horror Season 1/5

OHHHHH SHIT FLATS FINALLY GOT A CROSSOVER BATTLE IT ONLY TOOK HIM FIVE FUCKING SEASONS

oh ye so here we are. Welcome to the next episode of Epic Rap Battles of Horror Season 5, AS WELL AS the next episode of Epic Rap Battles of Villainy. I have Gordon rapping with me today. No, not that one. Ye, this is a crossover episode between our two series featuring two characters we both wanted to use that somehow ended up making for a p good match-up and la-tee-da, it brings us to here, and what do you know maybe it somehow fits into the story as well idk figure it out yourself. In today's battle, hunter and psychopath, Reverend Harry Powell from Night of the Hunter raps against the sociopathic clone from Orphan Black, Helena. Since these characters are mad obscure, here's a brief description of both.

think that wraps up everything. The connection is pretty much people who go on repetitive killing sprees of females because of illegitimate reproduction under the guise that it's what God would have wanted. Enjoy.

Check out BTTF's series, too!

Story
Light sat reclusively in a decaying room, pen in hand as he made progress on nonspecific work. The room was dusty and quiet, not even sunlight found its way inside.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open. A silhouette stood there, gripping a rifle in his hand. Tattooed on his fingers, the words “LOVE” and “HATE.” He grinned as he took the first step into the desolate room.

“‘Scuse me, son,” He began, speaking in a thick southern accent, “You heard the good word?”

Light grinned as he gripped his pen, pulling out a small book from his suit. “I have indeed…” He began, with an obvious tinge of insanity to his voice, “And you’re going to need it more than ever in the next forty seconds…”

Scribbling in his pen as he turned his chair around, Light stood up, taking brief but intimidating steps towards the figure. “Mister…” He began, spelling his name out, “Reverend… Ted Bundy.”

The figure lowered his gun and waited. There was an awkward silence.

The silhouette raised his watch. “Well, that’s forty seconds.” He let out an audible laugh, stepping from the shadows as light cast down on his face. “Guess you’ve got the wrong guy.” He raised his gun and pointed at Light, who frantically looked around in surprise.

Dropping his book to the floor, Light raised his hands into the air. “Alright, what do you want with me, then?” He bit his lip as he spoke, obviously spiteful.

“Not much from ‘ya, mister ‘God of Death.’” The figure responded, punctuating every word. “I just don’t take too kindly to yer’ sort of slandering my religion. After all, what kind of ‘God’ needs a bo-”

A large gunshot cut off Reverend Powell’s speech as Light’s head bursts into pieces. His body falls to the ground, hands still raised. Blood splatters across the wall, tainting the bitter preacher’s suit jacket. Powell rolled his eyes as he stepped back, pulling out a kerchief and wiping down his suit.

“‘Less God himself has smitten a heathen,” He began, “Reveal yourself, will ‘ya?”

His question was almost instantly answered by the sound of chewing. Turning around, he sees a obscured figure wearing a heavy, green jacket. Short in stature, but intimidating in appearance. The figure takes a bite out of a piece of toast they hold in their left hand. In their right, cradled a large rifle.

“Not here for you, mavpa.” A voice echoes out from within the hood, in a thick, Ukranian accent.

“Uh… what?” He responded, “I don’t know what you just… alright, nevermind then. Listen, lass, have you heard the good word?”

“Not interested.”

“The hard way, then.” The Preacher responded, strapping his rifle to his back.

Introduction










Rev. Harry Powell:
Dear lord, please forgive me, for You know I ain’t a villain

Not for killin’ on the mic; I know You don’t mind all the killin’

Not for sinnin’ neither; it ain’t a sin to beat ungrateful children

But for owning this poor clone instead of just being forgivin’

So I’m givin’ you a chance to preach your disses, strong or weak

Although I’m leanin’ towards the latter from a matricidal freak

I’m lurkin in the shadows, stalking haunted knock-off Batty too

For I been known to swindle widows, but I s’pose a witch’ll do

See, I hate women and sex, but most of all I hate nihilistic sinners

So I’ll beat this Orphan Black and blue. Child, you see these fingers?

Let me tell a little story. These fingers should be makin’ you uneasy

‘Fore they smack up this sociopath that we all LOVE to H-A-T-E

Helena:
Glad to see you, Preacher; You are project which I enact on the microphone

Of the destruction of this hunting stunted-wit; Because every one of his lines is cloned

I host flavorous flames that play a Most Dangerous Game when am on the prowl,

Cast the first stone; Line up the scope to dome, and pow goes Powell

Oink, oink, you piggish monkey. Am hunting to trump a flunky with wild scorn

Because am hungry and lusting to munch on the Man-Child of the Corn

Am hell-bent on vengeance. No penance will grant you repentance,

Second death sentence; Night of the Hunter is ended by enlightening presence

An abstinence activist trying to match his wits with this active witch is blasphemous, so

Douse a deader-than-a-door-dude with horse glue and even then, his raps won't stick

You spy on minors finer than you rhyme; Go back to that, you half-breed

Because your pretend offense got Rever-ended. Baa baa, Black Sheep

Rev. Harry Powell:
What was that? I couldn’t understand a single line you spat

Your accent’s thicker than the self-harm scars you etched into your back

This Lonely Heart’s only upset because she knows how well I’ve dissed her

Though I’d be pissed too if I’d been stabbed and shot by my own sister

Helena:
Harry got hung like a mule; Three days later, still no resurrection

Scarred skin-regardin' bars thin, because my Dar-win is Natural Selection

Your stupid music scheme amuses me but now you'll dig your own grave

Good riddance, Reverend Powell. You’ve been fearfully and wonderfully slayed.



Announcer:








Story
A boy wearing a red hoodie sat in a graveyard with his two friends; A larger boy, and a gothic looking girl. The three sit on a wall near the entrance, conversing about miscellaneous topic as the girl remains silent.

Suddenly, the boy falls silent, as he notices another figure from afar. Squinting, he makes out the shadow of a small girl in a red sweater and pink skirt. The girl points towards the graves, as a fog rolls in, quickly enveloping her.

The red boy hops off the wall, not paying attention to his larger friend’s conversation. He peered over as his female friend iridescently floated off the wall, frowning. He peers to her and mouths “You saw her, too?” She nods in response.

“Neil, wait here.” He whispers to his friend, who trails off his own talk. He walks over slowly to a grave that reads “SETH BRUNDLE.”

There was a brief pause of silence. The entire graveyard felt to be in anctipation.

Suddenly, a mangled, green arm split out of the surface, accompanied by others.

Outro


Who won? Reverend Harry Powell Helena

HINT DEDUCTION:

Picketers: I mean literally this is a battle of crazy Christians p much

Kate Poster: The poster is for an abstinence campaign. Powell develops a deep hatred of sex and fuels his own murder sprees with it.

Marth, Roy, Lucina: In Super Smash Bros 4, Roy and Lucina's movesets are clones of Marth's. Helena, and Orphan Black's concept in general, is a clone.

Shoutout to BTTF again bc he had some great hints I ended up not using bc I'm a forgetful ass.