Chapter XXXV: The Devil's Toybox
Every word that's about to spill forth from my mouth suddenly freezes on the tip of my tongue, the only action I end up doing being my jaw dropping open as I stare at Decapitron. My mind replays what he's just said about fifty times, and no repeat makes it any easier to process.
"I….what?" I ask finally, sounding like a total dumbass.
The puppet- this "Andre"- raises his hands in caution, a suddenly look of concern on his face.
"Are you all right?" he asks, "Maybe you should sit down, you're starting to look a little faint."
Oh no, I'm fine, I just have a fucking talking puppet who somehow changed his entire face in front of me! I bark mentally, but stay silent. I do what he says, though, my body mechanically reaching for the bed post for me to balance on as I lower myself to the ground, putting a hand on my head.
"I can't…that can't…." I stammer, unable to wrap my head even halfway around this, "You aren't…there's no way."
He doesn't seem surprised by this, nodding his head as he bends his knees, sitting down with his knees hanging off the edge of the drawer. The puppets remain standing, gathered around him like an entourage of security protecting a government official. I lean against the bed, dropping my hands in my lap.
He says, "This must be a lot to take in. But I assure you, the puppets using the formula was for the best."
I run a hand through my hair, finally looking up at him.
"So," I begin, trying to figure out how to word this, "How...why did...how come..."
He smiles at me, "I guess I should start at the very beginning."
So he does.
And he spills everything.
How he started out as a down and out puppeteer in France. How he met his wife- Elsa, from the journal- at one of these shows but her dickhead father didn't approve of their relationship because of Andre's 'peasant' status. How he came across an old man who was the one to disclose to him the secret to eternal life, the gift that is responsible for why his old puppets are standing on my shelf with minds of their own. How supposedly that guy stole the secret from some demon guy and was on the run because the demon guy wanted his secrets to be just that, and in fact Andre's very first experience with animating the puppets was to hunt down the little minions the demon guy-Sultan or something-, I think he said his name was- sent after him….wait a minute…
"Hold it," I say, putting my hands in the air, "Back up a little. What did you just say?"
Andre tilts his head up, his concentration broken.
"About the protective seal?" he suggests, "Well, it's not as scary as you think it is. You just draw a circle with some-"
"No, not that," I interject, "That name you just said, the one of the demon guy."
His gaze turns rather dark, a frown marring his wrinkled features.
"Oh, yes, Sutekh," Andre says the name like it's poison in his mouth, "The Egyptian god of discord. Ever since Afzel found the formula, he'd been roaming the ends of the Earth to steal it back. And once it came into my possession, we'd been on his hitlist ever since."
I scrunch up my nose, trying to figure out why that name sounds so familiar.
My eyes suddenly widen when I remember the section from the mythology book Tunneler had showed me.
"Wait, you were serious about that?" I ask Tunneler, "You actually encountered those totem things?"
Tunneler nods his head, though he makes a little grunt in his throat like he's trying not to be offended by my doubt. Andre's blue eyes go wide in horror, and he whips his head at me.
"The totems?" he says in disbelief, "They've already gotten to you?"
I hold up my hands to calm him down, "N-no, I haven't. I was just asking because they showed me a picture of them that talked about that Sutekh guy in one of my books."
Andre's shoulders slump like he's just had the weight of the world taken off of his shoulders, putting a hand to his chest (which is kinda weird, when you consider, you know, that he doesn't even have a heart beating in his chest). "Dieu merci. It would be just terrible if you already had to put up with those cretins without any clue how to properly ward them off. My puppets are excellent fighters who never back down, and even they can only do so much."
I nod to show I can understand, but a mention of the puppets suddenly sparks a question in my head.
"About that, actually," I say. He nods, waiting for me to go on.
"The formula…" I just say, "What…how do you make it? I mean, I don't mean to sidetrack you, but I feel like we just get out of the way since, you know, we kind of don't have any of it left and I'm not exactly Dr. Frankenstein here."
Andre chuckles, "Of course. After all, it'd be a real shame if we just dropped like a bunch of marionettes with their strings cut without giving you some kind of explanation on what to do. Though I am surprised that you've managed to keep them going this long. How did you figure out how to use the syringe in the first place?"
"Let's just say it wasn't without a few incidents gone wrong," I mutter, not really wanting to think back on the terror of when the puppets first needed a recharge. Andre seems to get the message, and gets back on subject.
"Well, I will not lie to you, Gaelin," he explains, "The synthesization process is by no means easy. It requires much time, patience, and effort. There are not many materials to go into it, but the setup must be completely perfect; even the slightest misshap, and it will not work."
"I guessed as much," I answer.
Andre suddenly gets this glint in his eye, his face becoming more serious as he leans forward.
"But before I tell you anything, I must stress to you how important it is that, under absolutely no circumstances, you do not repeat this to another living soul," he warns, "This is not a process just for anyone to screw around with, and far too many have already paid for it with their recklessness. If this falls into the wrong hands-"
I frown, "I'm not going to tell anyone. I mean, you'd really think anyone would believe me even if I did?"
He gives me this strange look, a sort of sad smile that I don't understand.
"You'd be surprised at how easily even the most skeptical can be convinced when it comes to possible immortality," he says softly.
It just makes me more confused. What the hell does that mean? Is there someone besides me that knows about the puppets' secret?
"I also think it's only fair that I warn you that the key to this formula is…not exactly for the faint hearted," he adds in.
"Why?"
He swallows hard, like it's this big terrible thing that is going to get me killed or something. I nervously back up a little against the bed, a hint of dread creeping onto my nerves.
"The formula's main ingredient, the thing responsible for creating sentience in lifeless forms such as the puppets is that of…brain matter."
For a moment, the words don't fully sink in.
"Brain matter," I repeat, like the words are foreign, "L-like the stuff that's….in your skull? Like brain matter, brain matter?"
I probably sound like a total dumbass right now, but Andre seems to find no humor in it. His mouth is set in a straight line, and he's nervously tapping his fingertips together. He nods solemnly.
"Yes."
"Do…do you mean animal or…o-or human?" I gulp, even though something tells me I'm going to regret asking.
He cringes a little, looking at the wall for a moment before he redirects his gaze back down to his hands.
"….animal brain matter is sufficient and can work," he finally says after a moment of silence, "…but is really not recommended when you're animating a puppet for the very first time. The sentient period is much shorter, and it makes their behavior act a bit more…feral, for lack of a better word."
At the last word, I notice him shoot Torch a look with a slight grimace. I furrow my brows, following suit. Is that why he's so pyro-happy to try and scorch me all the time?
But that must mean he was the only one to have animal matter in the formula that created him. But that would mean that the others…
A lump suddenly hardens in my throat.
"Does…does that mean the formula that came with them had…human brains?" I ask, hesitantly.
He doesn't answer.
It's enough to let me know, though.
"How….how did…h-h-how did you g-get your hands on such s-s-s-stuff?"
He won't look at me.
"Andre," I say his name, "How?"
"Gaelin, please try to understand that I'm not proud of all that I've done throughout my years as the puppets' creator," he pleads, "There are many things that I wish I could do differently, that I thought were right at the time only because I allowed my mind to be consumed by thoughts of revenge or by the lust for power."
He looks at Blade, the latter giving a slight nod, like there's a silent exchange of understanding in their shared silence.
"As you may have guessed from my journal, I was not exactly what you would call a 'model citizen' during the time of Nazi Germany. Elsa I hated Hitler and the Axis powers with a passion. As did many of my friends. Each of them defied the regime some way or another- whether that be serving in the Allied forces, delivering black market food to starving Jews in the ghettos, or even just making a few jokes at Hitler's expense- but no matter what, their defiance caused them to pay dearly with their lives."
But when Afzel entrusted me this secret, and the first puppets I had- my very first experience with this delicate ability of life- became too damaged to keep going on, I thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to make sure their deaths weren't in vain. That even they could keep fighting, even from beyond the grave. To prove that they weren't going to go quiet."
"And soon enough, Elsa joined the ranks," I say, a memory of something written in the journal flashing to the front.
Andre looks at me with surprise, before his expression darkens in a way that makes me inch back in a little in fear. He frowns deeply, before he gives a sad look to Leech Woman, before turning back to me.
"Yes," he affirms quietly, "Even my dear Elsa."
"So you…used your friends' brain matter to bring them back to life as puppets…" I say slowly.
He nods.
"How did…you keep your supply consistent?" I question.
He gives me a sad smile, though his eyes are heavy with what seems to be shame.
"When the Nazi general who was in charge of trying to find the secret killed Elsa and burnt our house down, my only thought was to make them pay. To make them feel the level of pain I had felt," he answers, "I figured, what better humiliation than to make them part of the very ingredient they were trying to get their hands on? So I did."
He looks down, "I know it all sounds macabre now. Like I said, I'm not proud of the things I did."
My eyes widen in horror at the indication. My mouth falls open, and I struggle to try and figure out what to say to that.
Andre seems to take my silence as an explanation to further tell his life story- though if he's doing it because he thinks I'm interested or because we seem to both need a distraction, I'm not sure of.
"After that whole ordeal, I knew I couldn't stay in Germany. I fled the country and spent the rest of the war trying to make a secret getaway. I thought that if I could make it to America, I could lie low, but they were able to track me down once I got to California. But I was determined to make sure that the puppets stayed out of the wrong hands," he narrates, "I destroyed all remaining remnants I had of the formula and hid the puppets away in my hotel room before my death."
I frown, "But that doesn't make any sense. If you destroyed all vials of the formula, how did one end up with the pup-"
Decades later, during the span of a couple of years, groups of people were brutally murdered in the hotel, Audrey's voice goes ringing in my head, People had this whole conspiracy that the puppeteer's puppets were coming back to life and killing people to retain their own lifespans.
My blood suddenly runs cold. The words die in my throat.
"Gaelin, are you all right?" Andre asks in concern, "You've gone awfully pale."
I stare at him, the lump in my throat growing and a newfound dread wrapping itself around my stomach as I look past him at the puppets.
That…there's no way…not…not my puppets…
"How," I interrupt, "How…how did they get out of the crawlspace you put them in?"
Andre looks a little taken back, before his frown returns.
"Fifty years after my death, a group of self proclaimed psychics studied my story. They believed me to be some sort of alchemist and were determined to discover the secret of the formula," he explains, "One of them, a man by the name of Neil Gallagher, believed that the formula granted the power of immortality; he sought out the puppets and after discovering the secret, used the formula on both them on himself, committing suicide as a sort of Russian roulette to see if it really worked."
His nose wrinkles in disgust, and he says the name with obvious disdain, "Sure enough, Gallagher revived himself, and used his apparent 'psychic' abilities to lure his former colleagues to the hotel, intent on using them as a means for his own future experiments, the sick bastard."
I swallow hard, "And he used the puppets to kill them."
"Yes," he admits.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence starts to settle between us. I shift, feeling scared and in disbelief. My puppets- my precious, wonderful, kind puppets- couldn't have…they couldn't have been used for…for that, could they? There's no way. But Toulon is sitting right here, and if anyone knows them the best, it's him. But…if they were…are they still…do they have any sort of desire to kill?
How do I know that they won't turn around on me?
Before I dare ponder that question any deeper, something dawns on me, and I frown when I realize an inconsistency in his story.
"B-but that doesn't make any sense," I respond, "If this guy, t-this Gallagher did manage to make himself immortal by the formula, why…I mean, no offense, b-b-but what purpose would he need the puppets? If the formula can bring life, and it requires brain matter, wouldn't it just be easier to inject into someone-"
"NO!" Andre yells so loud it makes me jump back. The puppets are shaking their heads like crazy at me. I hold my hands up in defense. Andre holds up his own, his expression wide eyed in fear.
"Never. Don't ever even entertain that thought, Gaelin, not even for one second," he warns, "What Gallagher didn't understand- what the Nazis didn't understand- is that this formula is not to just use like some sort of science experiment. It has the power to bring life, yes, but this does not entitle you to start playing God when you feel like. When the formula is used on a human being, it…it changes them. As it was created by Sutekh's hands, when used on an already living being, it makes you nothing short of a monster. A hollow shell consumed with one thing and one thing only: power.
"It wouldn't matter who you were in your life, or who your friends were. Once you get the formula, none of that would matter anymore. You'd be nothing more than consumed with having it all, no matter who or what you'd have to hurt. This is what became of Gallagher. He used the puppets for his own needs and, once he thought he had it all in the bag, he tried to throw them away like garbage."
His mouth twitches, and he looks over at the puppets, sadness filling his eyes when he looks particularly upon Leech Woman and Jester. Leech looks away, rubbing her arms; Tunneler just gives a slight nod.
"…And it is what became of me, when my dear puppets used their last bit of formula to bring me back from the grave," he finishes, "I became obsessed with living forever and getting Elsa back, that…that I was willing to sacrifice them, let them wither away if it meant having the formula all to myself. That I didn't care if they got hurt in the process."
At the mention, I notice how the puppets all stop looking at him, instead focusing their attention on different directions, like the admission is still a fresh wound. It makes me clench my hands.
To think that they were willing to sacrifice their whole function of living to bring their father back so they wouldn't be alone…only to be cast aside and replaced with a dead woman…
A flash of anger runs through me, even though I try to dismiss it- after all, it'll do no good to get mad a clearly dead man who very clearly acknowledges that this was not the best thing to do at the time. But at the same time, all I can think about is the betrayal and the hurt my poor puppets must have felt.
Andre seems to notice it, despite my best attempts, and nods his head towards the puppets as if he's read my mind.
"The thing that Gallagher didn't realize, that the few who have been able to wield the power don't realize, is that the puppets are loyal to you and me as their creators," he states, "But their biggest loyalty is to each other above all. They know each other's struggles, and they share in each other's concern about their formula intake decreasing, the fear that they may 'go to sleep' for lack of a better term, and not wake up. Thus, they will stick by whoever revives them, mostly as a matter of making sure there is someone to replenish the formula, but it is not something to be taken for granted. You understand?"
I nod slowly, "You're saying, like, a you-scratch-my-back, I'll-scratch-yours, type of thing?"
"Exactly that," he confirms, "But their loyalty to one is not definite. You must treat them well and respect them as individuals, not merely as your little servants. Betray their trust or harm them in any way, and the allegiance immediately is cut. Gallagher, in his arrogance, thought that he no longer needed the puppets and threw them away. Lest to say the consequences were…disastrous."
The look of shame returns to his eyes. I think back to what he said of the puppets resurrecting him.
"And you?"
His mouth goes into a thin line. He stares at me; I raise an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
He swallows. "…let's just say, when you're stabbed in the back, sometimes not even family is enough to dampen the feeling of betrayal."
Another wave of shock goes through me.
"The puppets…killed you too? B-b-but you're their-their creator, you gave them life in the first place-"
" I was no longer the man I was at that point. Not anymore," he cuts in, "If left to my own devices who knows what other sickening things I would have done."
That makes me go silent. After that, we just sit there.
All of this is too much. Too much to take in. I thought I was already in over my head when I first brought the puppets to life, but with all the crazy shit that's gone down tonight- Sadie, the party, all these revelations now coming to light in the moment- right now I feel like I'm about to burst.
My head's starting to hurt. I feel lightheaded, and it takes me a second to realize my hands are shaking.
"Which is why," Andre starts talking again, his voice grim, "It's important that no one else ever know that the puppets are in your possession. Even now, they are still capable of-"
His voice suddenly cuts off, and his eyes go wide as he freezes in place. The puppets' heads all whip towards him, hissing in concern as they all crowd around him. I get up.
"Andre?" I ask, making my way towards them.
Andre's lip is quivering, little sounds escaping his throat like he wants to get the words out, but there's something in the back of throat preventing him from annunciating. His eye is starting to twitch, and his hands are convulsing.
"Not now," he suddenly says.
I stop, "Andre?"
"Not now," he suddenly says desperately, looking at his hands.
To my surprise, I realize his face has become suddenly translucent- as if he's fading in and out.
"No, no, no, no, no," he says, "Not yet. I need more time."
"W-w-what's wrong?" I ask.
He looks up at me, fear in his eyes.
"Gaelin, my time has run out," he says, "But please, please listen! Whatever you do, do not let the puppets be known by anyone else. They are unpredictable, they are not afraid to tow the line between right and wrong!"
His voice is sounding farther and farther away, as if he's driving off. His face is starting to disappear, and Decapitron's shining head is making its reappearance.
"What are you saying?" I question, "What does that mean?!"
"They will do whatever they can to survive!" he calls out, "Too much blood has been spilt already due to my mistakes. Please, teach them better! Teach them-"
And just like that, he disappears completely. Decapitron stands frozen in place, like someone's pressed the pause button on him. He raises his head slightly, looking around like he doesn't have any idea what's been going on. Blade lightly taps him on the arm with his hook hand, and Decapitron looks at me and then himself.
"Is…is he gone?" I ask, "Like, for good?"
Jester's face spins into its sad expression, before he glumly nods his head. Now back in control of his own body, Decapitron just stares at me.
"Will…he come back?"
Pinhead just shrugs. Great.
I chew my thumbnail. Fantastic. So I finally have a sit down with the guy who managed to bring toys to life, find out that the secret formula behind it all requires brains for it to work, that the puppets are apparently pint size serial killers, and that I may or may not be hunted after by a god and his army of fun size demonic henchmen. I've learned so much, and at the same time, feel like I still know nothing.
What exactly was he trying to say? That the puppets are still capable of what?
Suddenly, Leech Woman's head whips to the doorway, and she gasps in horror, pointing at it. I knit my eyebrows and look at it, before turning my gaze back to her.
"What? What is it?"
She jerks her arm towards the door, like I need to go inspect it. Tunneler and Torch are mimicking her.
That's when I notice my door is open. Just a crack, nothing much, but still open.
My eyes widen, suddenly on high alert as I march towards the doorway. Shit, shit shit, is all I think. I swore I closed it all the way. If Mom or Paul heard me and looked in-
I yank open the door, with only the darkness to greet me back.
Confused, I lean forward and poke my head out into the hallway.
Still nothing.
"There's no one here," I say as I close it, staring at the furnished wood for a few seconds longer.
Whatever. This has been one hellish roller coaster of a night, and really, right now I don't want to do anything else but sleep. No thinking of Sadie, no conversing with the soul of a dead guy, just sleep for as long as I want.
I wish the puppets goodnight and crawl into bed, staring at the ceiling as I pull the covers up.
Having a one on one conversation with Andre has assured me that I don't need to worry about what will happen now that I don't have any formula, since now I can just make it myself. I have nothing to worry about.
But I still can't shake the feeling that there's so much I have yet to learn.
A/N: Just want to let everyone know I officially have an Archive of Our Own account now! I go by the same username on there (SapphireOx), so be on the lookout for this story and a few of my others making it onto that site!