The stale, coppery scent of blood was evident as soon as setting foot into the house. Paige paused, a frown curving on her black painted lips as she instantly recognized the smell. Her pale, monochrome curls bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head from left to right, searching for the source. She narrowed her eyes as she spotted a few neglected trickles of blood that had seeped into the armrest of one of the chairs there in the living room. Her gaze became focused on the droplets, the pupils of her eyes shrinking to pinpoints as a painful grin overtook her expression.

"Oh friends?" Paige called through gritting her teeth. "Little victims…" Normally, when she called out to the three, she could hear some sort of response. Usually, it would be the click of their bedroom doors locking, or the shuffling of feet as they scurry to hide under their beds, but right now, the house was eerily quiet.

Correction…it was almost quiet. Echoing through the empty house was the faint sound of ticking…methodical and perfect…tick tock, tick tock… The repetitiveness of it was enough to drive Paige insane. Well, more insane than she already was…

Paige turned towards the horrible noise, clutching onto her paintbrushes so tightly that the wood began to splinter. Her pointed black heels clacked against the floor as she stomped into the kitchen. She stopped short when she spotted a figure standing there in the dark. Her black lips parted to hurl an accusing insult at the stranger, but she didn't get the chance to speak before he did.

"Disgusting waste of time," he muttered, gazing down at the messy kitchen table. The remnants of Paige's cake, whose main ingredient was the candied entrails of various animals, still littered the table, rotting away at a seemingly alarming rate. The dark figure released the fork that he had been clutching between his gloved fingers, and Paige watched in horror as it clattered to the ground.

"Excuse you!" Paige spat, finally looking up from the floor. She flinched as her gaze connected with the eyes of the figure before her. His eyes seemed to glow gold, shining through the darkness. She was mesmerized by them for a while, thinking of how she could possibly recreate the shimmering effect with her paints.

"Yes? Something you need?" he interrupted her thoughts as a sly smirk curled on his lips.

Paige broke her stare away from his eyes and glared at his chest. Hanging from the front pocket of his coat was a small golden watch. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock… She propelled her hand forward and clutched the pocket watch, gripping it tightly in her inky palm, her sharpened nails cracking the glass on the face.

"You witch!" he gasped in shock. His gloved hand grabbed her wrist with more force that Paige had anticipated. She winced in pain and released her grip on the watch. "How dare you touch my clock! And my favorite one, at that…," he went on as he let go of her. He glanced down at the pocket watch, frowning sternly as he noticed the black ink staining his gloves. "What…what have you done?"

"Me?" Paige responded, snapping out of her temporary state of shock. "What have you done? Why are you in my home? And where are my little victims? And furthermore, who the bloody hell are you?"

"Yours?" he repeated, drawing the word out in a low voice. He stepped back to gaze at her through the dim light, eyeing her up and down. "Oh, I remember you…you're that despicable stack of paper from the dining table, aren't you? Yes, going on about…what was it? Cerebellum activity?"

"Creativity, you uncultured mud puddle," Paige corrected, feeling her cheeks burn with what she assumed was a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "And how would you know? You never answered me; just who are you?"

"Yes, that's right!" he snapped his fingers, the grin returning to his face as his eyes connected with hers. "Oh, where are my manners…I am the all-powerful ruler and manipulator of time, but my dear, you may refer to me as Tony." As he finished his introduction, he took a small bow, keeping his gaze locked onto hers.

Paige paused for a beat, looking him up and down now as well. "Aren't…aren't you the clock that hangs over the telly?" she questioned, pointing to the living room.

Tony's cheeks burned as he stood up straight again, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "I-I am more than just simply a clock, you wretchedly dumb woman," he spat back at her.

"Ah, so you're a bit like me then," Paige grinned sharply, her razor-like teeth glimmering in the dim light. "And let me guess, you took the time to educate the little victims as well?" Her heels clacked against the ceramic floor as she began to circle him. "Well, let me inform you of a little rule we have around here, Tony… You do not touch the little victims, you let them be, because nobody gets to play with my friends, except me." With her last word, Paige reveals a pin-sharp pencil, holding it only centimeters away from Tony's neck.

The clock's grin only widened as he gazed down at Paige's attempt to threaten him. "Oh, my dear notebook," he spoke slowly, chuckling under his breath. "You naïve little twit…" His gloved hand grasps Paige's neck. "Educating the children? I've mastered it."

Paige's eye went wide, fury burning her gaze as she glared at Tony. He squeezed her throat, keeping her away from himself at an arm's length, which was just enough to keep her from slitting his throat. The sharpened end of her pencil scraped the surface of his skin, causing a line of blood to bead up.

"Oh, is that all you can manage?" Tony chuckled darkly at her failed attempt. "How pathetic." His gloved hand continued to squeeze, crushing her windpipe. "What a shame, your time is up, that's it! ...you're awfully horrid, and I quite like it."

Paige choked out a whimper as the edges of her vision faded away. Her arms fell limp at her sides, and her eyes finally fluttered closed.

"Tick, tock, tick tock," Tony hummed as he released Paige from his grasp. He brushed his hands together while grinning down at her body as it crumpled to the floor. "It's out if my hands, I'm only a clock..."

Tony frowned as he noticed the ink that had stained his gloves. "Horrid woman...ruins everything she touches...," he muttered to himself, then let out a heavy sigh. "Well, no time to waste. I suppose I should take care of this body and the mess she left behind..."

The clock moved to the hallway, where the bedrooms were. "Oh children, rise and shine!" he called down the hall. "We've got to clean this place up, and no wasting time!"

Harry, along with the other two little victims, were of course reluctant to come out of their rooms. But as soon as they spotted Paige's dead body in a heap on the floor, they couldn't help but feel overjoyed. In a way, Paige was worse than Tony in that she liked to torture them more psychologically. More creatively, as she would most likely say. Not that Tony's mocking and stern rules didn't bother them, but it seemed to be the lesser of two evils.

Paige's body had been crudely stuffed beneath the back porch, and the kitchen was finally almost clean. Tony knelt down and picked up the fork he had dropped earlier. With a frown, he examined the bit of cake still stuck to the end of it. He had never actually gotten the chance to take a taste of it before Paige had interrupted. The clock closed his eyes and stuck the bit of cake in his mouth, standing up as he tasted it. Slowly, a smug smirk grew across his lips. "Well, it's not nearly as awful as I expected...," he muttered to himself as he moved to drop the fork in the sink. "Perhaps that woman did know how to effectively use her time..."

~12~11~10~9~8~7~6~5~4~3~2~1~

It was dark and cramped when Paige awoke, and once again, the stale smell of blood was thick in the musky space around her. Her hands groped the walls of her surroundings until she finally stumbled out into the open air. Gasping for breath, she turned to see where she had been stashed, beneath the back porch. Her black inky hands went to her throat as the memory flew back to her. That wretched clock had strangled her to death!

Anger now pumping through her veins, she stumbled to her feet and stomped up the stairs to the house, crashing through the back door. The house was completely dark, just as it was when she had been killed earlier, though she didn't care in the slightest about how late it had gotten.

"Tony!" Paige screeched, grasping an ink pen from the pocket of her dress. "You twisted clock, I've got to speak with you!" Her heels clacked against the wood floor, leaving behind black smudges with each step she took. She was almost through the hallway when an ajar door caught her attention. She paused, turning to see a cowering figure in the doorway. "Little victim!" she spoke in a delighted whisper. "Have you seen that wretched clock man? I've got a surprise for him…"

"I-I…mmm," Manny stammered, then simply shook his head back and forth. He slipped back and slammed his door closed quickly after.

"Fine," Paige muttered, the smile dropping from her face. "I'll deal with you lot later…" As she turned to continue her walk down the hall, she spotted the familiar dark figure near her bedroom door. A wicked grin grew across her lips, and she tapped towards him slowly.

Tony's eyes were wide with fear and confusion, and his heart was ticking so loudly that the sound of it echoed off the empty walls. He had killed that woman, he was certain of it! Her time was up, and he drained her of life, strangled her until she bled from the eyes! So how was she still alive?!

The clock man was so entranced in his own thoughts that he didn't realize when Paige had approached him. The pain of her ink pen stabbing into his stomach was what snapped him out of his thoughts. "P…Paige," he stammered, his eyes connecting with hers.

"Why darling, I'm flattered that you remember my name!" Paige laughed as she twisted the pen around in his wound. She pushed the end of it, forcing a flow of ink into his body. "Let's see how much you remember while dealing with the ink poisoning."

As she pulled the pen out of him, he stumbled back until he hit the wall, then slid down to the ground. And still, his gaze did not leave hers. He could feel the poison coursing through his body, flowing through his veins, slowly paralyzing his limbs and numbing his brain. Paige grinned as she knelt down before him, leaning in close as she placed the tip of her pen beneath his chin. "Yes, clock man, you can just stay seated," she whispered to him. "And know that my creativity can never be defeated."

Slowly, a smirk grew across Tony's lips. "You cannot stay dead, is that true?" he chuckled softly. "Well you must know that I am just like you…"

Paige pushed the end of the ink pen against his skin, arousing a trickle of blood to stream down his neck. "What? What do you mean?" she whispered harshly.

"Time can never die, my dear," Tony continued, his piercing golden eyes gazing into hers. "Time will always be, and I will always be here."

"So…you mean to say that creativity is the same?" Paige mused. "Artistic wonders must always be filled, and so I, myself, can never be killed?"

"You didn't know this?" Tony coughed, a bit of blood dripping from his lips. His eyes struggled to focus on her through the dim light, and he was thankful he was sitting as the dizziness and vertigo began to set in. "You stupid woman…"

Paige smirked slightly. "Too tired for rhymes, old man?"

"You talk too much…," he muttered as his eyes fluttered closed. With a weak, gloved hand, he reached up to grasp a handful of Paige's wild, colorful hair, tugging it down towards himself. She didn't have a chance to resist before he forced her lips to press against his, and the fresh, coppery taste of his blood filled her mouth for the slow few seconds that the kiss lasted. "Such a waste of time…"

Paige watched the life fade from Tony as his body went limp and he exhaled his last breath. She pulled away from him, collapsing as she moved back to sit on the floor. Between her inky fingers, she restlessly played with the sharp pen, the murder weapon. Was what the clock said true? Would he come back to life in the same way that she had? She wasn't quite sure, and she could feel the threat of tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she continued to think about it.

"How…how…," Paige breathed softly as she climbed to her knees. She paused, hearing the creak of the bedroom doors open, and she could feel the stares of the little victims who must have been too terrified to speak to her. She cleared her throat and rose to her feet, lightly dusting off her dress. "How dreadfully boring…painfully boring! Surely his death could've been more creative," she continued, spinning around to face the three. "Little victims! Go fetch my paints! I've got some lovely, creative things to do with this boring old clock's corpse!"