Summery: Time has gone by and still they waited. With no sense of time they lay idle in ignorance, waiting for someone to be foolish enough to steal their secret; waiting for the chosen one to become their new master. Follows movie 1 & 3.
Disclaimer: Puppet Master is property of Full Moon Direct. I make no profit off of this piece. This was created for entertainment purposes only.
Marionettes
With a quick slice the flesh easily gave way. Blood spurted angrily out of the gaping wound, seeping into the dark material of his small trench coat and going unnoticed. How easily the human flesh did tear. In one simple flick of his small puppet arm he was able to place a gaping, smiling wound that mirrored the one he permanently expressed across his cold wooden face. His victim screamed in outrage, the agony in his voice was making him tremble with glee. He had missed the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of the catch, and the glorious feeling of draining the vital fluids of his victims by the blade of his hand. A few more flicks of his arm and the once ear splitting screams died down as quickly as the blood leaving his fast cooling body. Lifelessly his victim lurched and tumbled over, nearly squishing him had he not moved fast enough. Then there he lay, lifeless and dead. His Master would have been pleased.
The deserted hallways of the old Bodega Bay Inn were scarcely visited by the humans anymore. After the timely demise of those psychics, it had seemed the public was quick to assume the place was haunted and they all scattered away in fear. Such odd anecdotes humans be. The blade wielding puppet turned to trek back down the hall. He left the body to be disposed of later by Pinhead, for he was the only one capable of moving such large bulky figures of fat and tissue.
He found himself climbing into the vent; an easy access to the different floors for ones as height-challenged as the puppets were. The elevator no longer ran for there was no electricity and climbing up steps was both exhausting and time consuming. He entered into their room. He was greeted by the sound of bells jingling, as Jester's eccentric head turned to look at him. There all the puppets stayed waiting patiently. There wasn't much to do anymore but fend off the greedy human's who tried to steal their Master's formula and so they all just sat about, entertaining themselves by simple toys and gadgets they found hidden within the unfortunate human's pockets.
Pinhead stood up and looked at Blade, who held up his blood soaked knife as an undeclared answer. None of them were blessed with the power of speech, but they all understood each other as easily as if one spoke words. Pinhead nodded his head and jumped off from the bed he had been resting on. With a run he made it out the door and disappeared down the hall to dispose of the pile of flesh and bones held down stairs.
Blade walked over to the side of the bed. He knelt before the nightstand and caught the edge of a small well-used rag with his hooked hand. It was already a dark brown color, aged and stiff with years of use. He used it to wipe away the residue blood on his knife. The puppets had no way of recording time. They had confiscated pocket watches and day planners from the humans, but they all eventually stopped ticking and unfortunately they were incapable of reading the strange foreign print in all of the calendars. It was not German, like what they were used to, and their Master left them before he could teach them to read English. However they knew quite some time had passed, for the human's changed quickly; clothing styles altered dramatically, stranger motor-powered means of transportation were showing up in front of their hotel and the odd things they would steal became more complex, filled with wires and metal. They did not understand the sudden change; it hadn't seemed like that long since they had been there.
Yes, they had actually been there for quite some time. If the puppets had any real estimate on how long they had stayed guarding, they would approximate exactly twenty years. For twenty years they stood guarding their Master's treasured secret; protecting it from anyone who proved tainted with ill thoughts of such a power. Master had told them all to never let anyone get the formula if they wanted to use the power for evil things. Master had told them they would be able to identify the chosen one, who would have a pure heart and a kind spirit. So far no one of that caliber came. Instead they were littered with infested rats of men, rodents that snuck their sniveling wet noses inside and try to pilfer the dedicated work of their late and Beloved Master.
With every visit their opinion of the humans sank. With every swine and filthy bird their distaste for them grew. These mortals seemed to be plagued by the clutches of greed and lust. They would sink to the foulest, most wretched means of attaining these, even at the cost of betraying their closest and dearest. Humans were despicable, untrustworthy wretches.
Oh, but their Master; their faithful, beautiful, glorious Master. Master Toulon was such a perfect, perfect human specimen! He was warmth and he was gentleness. His hands of brittle bone and thin skin worked only to aid mankind. He was nurturing and kind. A simple man of simple pleasures, dedicated to his wife, his puppets, and the children. However, human gluttony for power forced him into the bowels of torment. They hounded and tortured him. They twisted this poor innocent, perfect man until he had no choice but to finally silence it all. He took away the innocence the world had and sacrificed himself, taking the knowledge with him onto the next life.
They trusted their Master, and would never question his requests of them. One day someone worthy would come, someone who understood like their Master did and they will love them too. They will follow them to the ends of the world and time and space. And it will be glorious.
And so, they waited.
When Pinhead returned, it was with arms full of new toys. Eagerly the other puppets crowded around him as he deposited his findings on the carpeted floor. In the pockets of their latest victim held a ring of keys, which Jester immediately snatched up, having some odd fascination with collecting the jingling trinkets, a wallet full of rolled up one-hundred dollar bills, a Swiss army knife, nail filer, and a strange small black box. It had been quite a few years since the puppets' latest guest, so their knowledge of modern technology was limited. It was a rectangular shape and made of shiny plastic. There was a crease in the construction, and with Blade's ever curious hook, flipped it open.
The other puppets stared with wonder and awe as the tiny device began to emit a glow. There were buttons alit in the strange blue light numbering from zero to nine. Immediately they recognized the similarity to the common telephone. The inquisitive hook of Blade came down again, his shiny metal meeting glowing plastic with a faint beeping noise. The others 'awed' at the spectrum. Oh, what a symphony of strange noises this apparatus primed! More and more delighted by the light display and more intriguing sounds it made, Blade pressed on, tapping the numbered rubber with the anxious giddiness of a child given a new mysterious toy.
That was until the configuration began to vibrate and sing. The puppets jumped back in fear. Before them the gadget quivered against the carpet, crooning an awful rendition of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Slowly gaining back their courage, the puppets crept back towards the buzzing piece of plastic. Blade, being the natural leader of the group, stood forward in a sign of bravery and tapped the bedevilment. The hostile actions and singing immediately stopped, and gasps and humming noises of gratitude were shared between the puppets.
"Samson, are you there?"
A voice broke through the contraption, startling the string-less marionettes yet again.
"Samson answer me, what is going on? You were supposed to call me when you reached the hotel."
Unable to speak, Blade leaned over the device, only his oddly quivering breath carrying through to the other member on the phone.
"Look, I'm not in the mood for your games. We're on our way over there now so hold tight; don't do anything until we arrive."
And just like that the voice was gone and the plastic telephone went still and silent. Disheartened by the lack of activity the puppets gave long tired sighs. The presence of the voice was gone and the bright neon glow from the interior slowly faded and died away with time.
Blade on the other hand stared at the source of amusement with a wooden mouth slightly ajar and pointy, spike-like eyes coming from the black sockets of his eyes. It seems their last guest had friends, and they were coming for a visit. Blade turned quickly to his comrades, hastily enough to catch all of their attention. While their eyes fastened on him, he made hand motions with his blade and hook, then pointed to the black contraption, tapping it lightly and then pointed towards the door.
The others seemed to have gotten the message, since they all nodded their heads and turned towards the open door. They had guests to get ready for, after all.