Chapter 21: Deals In The Dark

Authors Note (or more like authors apology) I am so sorry my dear readers for the long wait! I have undergone so many stupid life changes and had so many distractions that I was overcome with writers block for months! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me and continuing to support me! It means the world to my nerdy self

Blue tugged a few pouches of blood out of the walk-in cooler on her way out of the basement, trying to hold her nausea in check at the thought of actually having to consume anything at this point. Her wrists screamed in protest as she tugged the sleeves of her blouse down to hide the now purple inflamed scars that were very nearly ready to open at any time now.

Summoning the very last of her energy, she flitted away from her home clumsily; like a newly fledged Upir unsure of their new abilities. She landed hard in the dirt, gasping unneeded air as she collided unforgivingly with the solid earth below her. Pausing in the deepening dusk, she glanced around her in an attempt to get her bearings and ascertain how far away she had landed from the crypt that she sought. Her family name emblazoned above it gave her little pause anymore, but the feeling of familiarity; the nostalgic and nearly painful feeling of home tugged her forward and kept her feet plodding along one in front of the other as the wards on the crypt vibrated in recognition when she unlocked the doors and stepped into the gloom.

A garbled mixture of pain, sadness, yearning, and trepidation kept her going as she shut and re-warded the door behind her and closed her eyes. Though it had been several decades since she had needed air, she could feel her chest squeeze tightly as though the world had run out of oxygen and a shutter wracked her frame as she forced another unneeded breath in and out slowly while keeping her eyes screwed shut. If she searched her memory, she would be able to smell the earthy-scented soap and vetiver cologne her Father had worn instead of the layers of dust and decay that were the reality of the crypt before her. She could recall the warmth of his smile, the familiar and mischievous twinkle of his eyes that she could see mirrored in her own reflection if she let herself take the time to acknowledge it. She could recall the precise baritone of his voice, the feeling of his large and roughly calloused hand in her own smaller and softer one.

A sound like a wounded wild animal tore out of her as she finally allowed the tears to fall free; allowed the pain she felt take the shape of the ugly sound that ripped its way free of her. Somehow, she made her way across the marble flooring to the dais where her own name had been erroneously chiseled beside her Father's when poor Mort had thought that her suicide had been successful as she had intended it to be.

Blue reached out a trembling hand to caress her Fathers marker in search of some solace that she was sure she wouldn't find that day anywhere no matter where she searched; before moving on to stand before her own marker. Taking one last deep breath, she dug her sharp claw-like thumb nail into her wrist, letting the dying blood and clotted Upir venom ooze thickly onto the stone before her; the tell-tale rumbling and shifting of marble and granite beginning around her at once as she felt herself being lowered down to a hidden vaulted room below.

The floor of the crypt sealed above her neatly to form the high ceiling now above her head as she knelt on the cold stone floor below her, the rush and crackle of a large fire coming to life stirred the musty air around her; an unnaturally dense smoke growing and rising until it filled the room to the top of the vaulted ceiling above, taking the shape of an enormous black jaguar. The creature seemed to study her with glowing amber eyes; the expression in them bespoke a much more complex intelligence than its appearance would have lent one to believe it had otherwise.

"Ah Small One, it is good to see you again." The jaguar purred amicably; a swish of its giant tail powerful enough to ruffle her long cerulean tresses.

"Tezcatlipoca, your presence honors me once more." Blue murmured, the weariness and pain more than evident in her voice.

She was tired and her head was spinning. It was close now.

"I don't have much time," She said softly, fighting to keep upright and struggling to focus her vision.

With another swish of the giant cats tail, the smoke ceased swirling and the air itself stilled.

"Show me." He growled, bowing so she could press her palm to his forehead.

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Chuck fell through the magical ward just as he heard a crash and a few choice curses emanate from the floor above him.

"Goddamn it Blue," He muttered edgily, loathe to deal with Victor on his own while she was off somewhere dangerous without him.

He flitted up the stairs and nearly collided with the aged vampire, who was smoking slightly in the dying sunlight that was filtering through the window.

To pull the curtains shut or not….

Fuck was it tempting, but he knew they needed his help.

Chuck flitted past him to yank the curtains shut just as Victor collapsed onto the sofa in the living room, smearing ash onto the cushions as he pulled a large flask from his cape with shaking hands.

"You're not gonna combust on me are you Dracula?" He asked sarcastically, unable to help himself as he took in the sight of the old vampire healing slowly before him.

"No your grace, I am not." Victor growled in response, causing Charles to admire his composure in the face of him being such an ass.

"Well that's good to know because Blue disappeared a few seconds ago and I have no idea where the hell she took off to. She's weak, it's close to…you know…" He said awkwardly, unable to bring himself to talk about her death even though it was temporary.

Victor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment.

It seemed that they were both destined to get on each others nerves no matter what.

"The bond you share with Lady Akishla should lead you to her location no matter how far she's gotten; and to be honest in her current condition this late in the game I don't think that she could have made it very far. Focus on your link with her, clear your mind of anything else." He told him with a surprising amount of patience.

Charles closed his eyes, took a deep breath by habit alone, and began honing in on his normally exemplary meditative skills. He thought of Blue; seeing her clearly in his minds eye and attempting to concentrate on the bond that they shared. He felt around for a sign of her consciousness within his own, attempting to send something simple across the link that they shared and waiting for any sign that she had heard or felt him.

The air seemed to still around him suddenly and the sound of his own unnecessary breathing grew louder as her violet eyes flashed across their link and he was jerked forward into an involuntary flit out of their house, the multi-colors of headstones and the verdant shades of grass blurring together as he sped across acres of cemetery; his sensitive eyes screaming in protest at the glare of the dying sun.

He landed hard, unaccustomed to the way the bond was able to transport him to her in such haste. Charles stumbled to his feet and squinted at his surroundings, recognition dawning on him when he took in the sight of her father's crypt. His gut twisted at the thought that she may have flitted here with the last of her energy to get away from him before the curse killed her once again; albeit temporarily.

Had she been trying to spare him by coming here? Was he too late to be with her while it happened?

The alien sound of distant adolescent laughter and conversation drew him away from his forlorn thoughts momentarily and he instantly pressed himself against the crypt to avoid being spotted; peeking out from the crypt's shadow to see what the hell was going on.

"This ain't the time for this shit," Charles muttered as he spotted a group of young teens in costume tramping across a smattering of headstones in the not-so-far distance.

In the midst of the bullshit with Mort and Imelda and worrying about Blue, it was no surprise that he had lost track of the days. Not that it was very important for immortal beings to keep track of the dates as it were unless they needed to perform some ritual or spell or curse at a certain time of the year, etc. Why in the world did it have to be Halloween of all days though? When the veil between portals and realms was the thinnest?

"Are you sure it's this way though?" a tall gangly boy asked a girl in front of him.

"Yeah stupid! I told you we come every year. If you're still too chicken-shit you can turn back now, but it's no big deal. Half the freaking school comes on their way to parties or trick-or-treating. It's tradition," She replied, rolling her eyes at his apparent lack of knowledge.

"Pretty fucked up tradition," the boy said edgily, looking over his shoulder and then back at his friends uncertainly.

"Awe! Widdle Danny is just scared that the ghost of the big scary murderer will jump out and strangle him too!" another girl snickered, pushing the reluctant boy forward.

"Don't fall behind dipshit, we aren't waiting around for any slackers. We just tag our names on the headstone and leave, and anybody's name that isn't on there before Halloween night is over gets a visit from Charles Lee Ray himself at midnight." He sneered, making a stabbing motion in the air enthusiastically; causing the gangly boy to visibly gulp in fear.

"Oh for fucks sake," Chuck sighed, turning towards the crypt's entrance and sensing the tingling of a protective ward as he passed through the door and into the cool and relieving darkness; the stinging in his eyes ebbing away almost instantly. He slammed the door shut behind him, unsure about how he should feel about gaggles of hormonal zit-faced teenagers writing all over his headstone.

He was caught between a twinge of flattery that he was known so infamously and a vast amount of not giving a shit. It wasn't as though he was really 'resting' there anyhow; in peace or otherwise. Part of him just hoping that they weren't going to try digging up his bones and fucking around because that was kind of fucking disconcerting whether you were in said body or not.

God he fucking hated kids.

"Blue?" He asked softly, standing in front of the two markers in the crypt and looking uncertainly between the two as though he expected her to pop out from behind one of them.

He swallowed a strange lump in his throat as he stepped closer to her marker, a sort of misplaced reverence causing his steps to falter as he moved closer to read;

Akishla Indigo Rainieri

Born October 31, 1950

Died October 31, 1978

Beloved Daughter and Friend

She had "predeceased" him by a decade then.

The foreign feeling of sadness coiled in his stomach uncomfortably as he stood there at his mates (thankfully empty) grave, realizing that she had committed suicide on her birthday at the young age of twenty-eight.

At the very least the eerie headstone confirmed that today was indeed her death day as Blue had refused to tell him precisely when it was, preferring to keep him in the dark and play everything close to the vest. She had told him again and again that she didn't want him to worry, didn't want him to see her how she was towards the end; even though he had reiterated again and again that he wanted to be with her.

He hadn't wanted her to be alone.

A sudden rumbling and grating noise at his feet startled him out of his morose thoughts as a large slab rolled back with a cloud of dust and debris and Blue rolled out of the opening unsteadily, collapsing onto her side in exhaustion as the slab rolled shut behind her.

The woman in front of him was nearly unrecognizable by sight alone as he stared at her wide-eyed; momentarily stunned as he knelt beside her in the dust. Her normally bright blue hair had returned to its natural black and dozens of tattoos had bloomed across every inch of skin he could see. Swirls of black lines and a plethora of colors tracing up her hands, arms, shoulders, and even the little of her chest he could see; the designs disappearing below her collar and out of sight.

"Blue," He swallowed thickly, the sound of his voice a rasping croak as he fought to hold back a veritable tide of emotion at the sight of her so weak and broken. He caressed her hair, drawing it back from her face where it had fallen limply.

Her eyes fluttered momentarily before she was able to force them open groggily, the warmest and most bewitching honey-colored irises shining up at him in the gloom of the crypt.

"Feast your eyes…..I'm human again for a few minutes; I have to be in order to die. Do you still like what you see?" She teased weakly as his vision blurred with unshed tears and he swallowed thickly once more, throat tightening suffocatingly so as all of the oxygen seemed to be sucked into oblivion.

"You're fuckin' beautiful, you always are." Chuck replied, venom-laced tears finally falling onto her blouse as he reached for her hand.

Her scars were purple and red, but they had yet to open.

"I have to go somewhere….to stop all of this. I can be granted the full power of the crystals to defeat the Mondragon's… but I have to be tested first, to see if I'm truly worthy of their power." Blue murmured, trying and failing to clear her throat.

"What? What are you talking about? You're….. you're dying! You can't go anywhere like this! How-

She placed a hand over his scarred lips with a soft smile.

"It's going to be fine…. Please trust me. The time will pass quickly here….. so for you, I won't be gone long. It'll be longer for me….. where I'm going….. but it'll be fine. I love you," She said softly, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing his palm before she disappeared into the dust.

Blue knew a moment of lurching, swirling color before she landed unceremoniously into a seated position with her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her stomach flip-flopping.

"Fuck," she muttered darkly, before realizing she was seated inside of Bessie pre-remodel, the feeling of the seat perfectly molded to her ass once again just like the good old days.

She opened her eyes slowly, the dying afternoon sun meeting her gaze with surprisingly little pain as she studied the street around her.

"Good thing I landed here parked," She sighed as traffic whipped by her and Bessie in both directions and pedestrians pounded the pavement on either side of the street, people stopping briefly at shop windows to admire their wares before moving on, the chilly air keeping them from idling too long on the sidewalks.

Blue turned her key in the ignition and blasted her heat on full, adjusting the vents to aim straight at her as she hunkered down in her seat in an attempt to hide from the freezing air around her. She fished her phone out of her pocket in order to gage the date and time before realizing that that may no be the most reliable way of finding out.

Who the hell knew if her phone was acting properly?

She could tell from her surroundings that she was in Chicago, but as to precisely when in Chicago she was would be anyone's guess. She could tell from the look of the shops and the way people were dressed that she wasn't in the current year or even the current decade for that matter.

By the look of her keys hanging from the ignition, she must have access to her old apartment near the lake; the one she had stayed in while going to med school. If anything, she would need to grab a coat and try to locate a newspaper to find out what date it was; so her apartment would probably be the best place to start? It's not as though Tezcatlipoca had given her many instructions or much information to go on. She didn't know exactly what she was here for or what to look for but she was hoping to pick up some clues as she went along.

Blue looked over at her vacant passenger seat forlornly before sighing dejectedly. When had it gotten like this? She had been alone for the majority of her existence; both as a human and as an Upir, and she had always preferred her own company over the company of others. As a child, she had gotten used to being shunned by her clans' people because of her unusual gifts; had seen it as more of a blessing in disguise as most people avoided her like the plague and left her alone. It had really bothered her father much more than it had bothered her. When they had left the clan and come to America, he had worried about her because he and her mother were barely home and she was left alone the majority of the time, but she found the isolation and solitude comforting as it left her time to seek out the comfort of her books in peace. Even when she had aligned herself with Mort, they had come to an unspoken understanding that they would seek each others company when they wanted it, but if they went for a stretch of several days without really saying more than two words to one another that it was completely normal; the comfortable silence even welcoming. There were times when they would just communicate via notes in the crematorium or brief text messages as reminders to turn equipment on or off, order such and such number of flowers for so and so's upcoming funeral, etc. She had reveled in the peace and quiet and fallen into a routine that was not only bearable, but even enjoyable.

Then Charles had barrel-assed into her life and amazingly- uncharacteristically- she wanted his presence in her life on a near constant basis. She found herself seeking out conversation with him, enjoying the time they spent together; even going so far as letting herself rely on him during times of uncertainty and trouble. Which is why she found herself feeling unexpectedly hollow in his absence, the empty car too quiet, the vacant passenger seat disconcerting.

She sighed, pulling herself out of her morose thoughts long enough to pull out of park and begin heading down the vaguely familiar downtown street; the act of driving a welcome distraction as she grudgingly turned the radio on, not wanting to even try using YouTube for her playlist as it probably didn't even exist in this timeframe.

"…. the killer bee….B96! Good afternoon Chicago, another commercial free hour on the way here. Who's out there doing some holiday shopping this afternoon? It is Friday, November 4th meaning that there are officially only 49 days left until Christmas and only 57 days until we welcome 1989 with a bang! The holiday season is always exciting! What are your plans for the holidays? Any interesting New Years resolutions? Phone lines are open folks! 591-9696, and in the meantime; Billy Ocean starting off our commercial free hour with 'Get outta my dreams, Get into my car'" Blue snorted and rolled her eyes as the familiar and gratingly upbeat intro to the song began. Was there even a point in searching for music worth listening to?

Then she froze, narrowly avoiding tapping her breaks for a red light. November 4th 1988? That meant that Charles had four days to live before he was gunned down. Not to mention that if she was here and she had the keys to her apartment that she had back in med school that Tezcatlipoca must have thrown the timeline off, but why?

By 1988, she had already been an Upir for a decade and had been comfortably ensconced in her job with Mort. She briefly recalled the cemetery receiving Charles' body as they had had to escort several reporters and cameramen from the cemetery grounds before being able to inter the body in peace; and even then, they had held off placing his headstone for a good six months, not wanting to alert the public where the resting place of the infamous serial killer was right away to avoid unsavory publicity.

If she was here now, this test must be centered around the death of her mate, but why? According to every episode of Star Trek she had ever seen (not to mention every other show or movie about time travel) you shouldn't meddle with the natural order of events or you would end up fucking up the future. If that was the Aztec Gods idea of a test, she could have told him that there wasn't even a need to send her here! Because, Charles had to die exactly as scheduled… right?

"Fuck my life," Blue muttered under her breath, turning onto the on-ramp of lake shore drive and joining the rest of the traffic heading north. She visibly relaxed as Joan Jet's 'I hate myself for loving you' came on the radio next-maybe not all of the music would be total trash on the radio- but her jaw muscles tensed the more she thought about this whole mess. If she wasn't supposed to interfere with Charles' death, then why put her back to this time in the first place and throw her past out of alignment?

Parking in front of the huge multi-unit building she had lived in hadn't changed at all as she considered herself lucky to score a spot that one of her neighbors was pulling out of. She could recall always having to park at least a block or more away from her building rain, snow, or shine and nearly falling on her ass more than once during the winter as she trudged home in inclement lake-effect weather. Blue found herself falling into old habits as she exited Bessie, making sure no valuables were visible through the windows, making sure to lock her car up, fold the side-view mirror inwards to avoid it getting clipped off in case someone side-swiped her car. It wasn't that her building was located in a shitty neighborhood, but her father had always instilled the 'better safe than sorry' edict into her brain and she had carried it into adulthood by default.

The keys unlocked the front door of her building without issue and the lobby was thankfully deserted as she made her way to the elevator and rode up to the third floor. Everything seemed the way she remembered it, right down to the god-awful swamp-green carpeting in the hallway as she made her way to unit 321 in the middle of the hall.

Bracing herself, she unlocked her door and stepped inside, locking it quickly behind her and spinning around to face her entryway. Blue wasn't sure what she thought she was going to find; after all with a timeline this fucked up, who knew? However to her relief, everything seemed normal-or normal for her anyhow. Blue's much loved and slightly battered guitar case was leaned up against the hall closet just as she remembered keeping it; closest to the door for when she had to run off to last minute gigs. Making her way to the living room, she plunked her keys down onto the coffee table and perched herself on the edge of her couch, looking around and seeing everything in its place. Mismatched furniture, wacky nick knacks and gothic wall art, an old television set and a newer VCR. God, a VCR! The sight of it had her chuckling softly with nostalgia as she spied some milk crates stacked with VHS tapes-mostly horror movies with a smattering of mysteries and thrillers mixed in. She wondered if she would even have the time to indulge herself while she was here for old time's sake; not that she had any inclination to spend any more time away from her mate or her actual timeline than was absolutely necessary.

Wandering around her old home she searched for any clue as to what she was supposed to be doing here, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that she could see. Even rifling through drawers and cabinets had gotten her nowhere out of the ordinary, though she was grateful to find a few wads of cash stashed here and there as she wasn't sure what sort of finances Tezcatlipoca had given her in this timeline either, but she would need money for essentials while she was here regardless of how long she had to stay. The thought that she may find herself stuck here for a lengthy amount of time nearly had her hyperventilating as it were.

A glance at her scars on her wrist told her that she was at least still an Upir thankfully; the thought of having to wander around as a human on this side of time would have created an entirely new laundry list of issues for her to work through and she would really rather not deal with that on top of everything else. She took out her cellphone once again with a pang of longing, wishing she could call Chuck just to hear his voice; and maybe to commiserate about her weird ass situation. The complete lack of service bars at the top of the screen told her that those thoughts were mute and she was on her own here.

When her landline rang minutes later she nearly jumped out of her skin, snatching the receiver out of the cradle before it could ring a second time.

"Damn Indigo, were you camped out by the phone?"

"Chaz? Oh my God, it's so good to hear your voice!" Blue exclaimed before she could stop herself. She hadn't spoken to any of her old band mates since before she had begun working with Mort.

"Dude, we saw each other like two days ago. Are you okay?" He asked her, confusion evident in his tone.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I've just had a rough night I guess, didn't get much sleep. What's up?" She asked, changing topics quickly and trying to sound indifferent.

"We got a gig booked for tomorrow night at the Ace of Spades in the loop at seven, I know its kind of a dive bar but they agreed to pay extra for a last minute booking. The other band they had lined up backed out and they were scrambling for someone to fill the slot, but the music is totally up to us so at least we won't get stuck doing a bunch of shitty covers." Chaz told her, sounding excited at the prospect of them being able to get some of their original music out to a crowd for a change.

"Cool. I'll see you at seven tomorrow then," Blue confirmed, wondering if all of this somehow fell in with her 'test' as she hung up.

Being in her old apartment was making her feel restless in ways that she couldn't fully explain or understand, so she attempted to vent some of her unease by cleaning and reorganizing her kitchen and bedroom. The food in her fridge was fresh, nothing was spoiled or outdated and the dry goods in her cabinets were the same. Thankfully, Tezcatlipoca had been meticulous in detail and had apparently seen fit to stock her fridge with several pouches of blood; leading her to wonder if she could gage how long she would be here according to the stash he had provided her.

She found a hamper of clean clothes on her bed and decided to fold them and put them away for lack of anything else productive to do; a restless current setting her nerves on edge as she stacked some jeans and t-shirts in her dresser drawers. Blue paused with the now empty basket in one hand as a picture of her and her father together caught eye on the wall; he was smiling roguishly with his arm around her shoulders, full of life.

The basket slipped from her fingers unnoticed, clattering to the floor as she approached the photograph slowly as though it were a potentially dangerous animal. Was he here too? Had he been transported to this timeline with the rest of her life as well?

No.

Some deep-seated instinct told her that she couldn't afford to be distracted by this. Her father was dead and gone and there was no point in torturing herself with what would only end up being a very pointless exercise. She had to make sure she remained focused and vigilant for the sake of her actual timeline and the future of vampires and upirs everywhere, for the sake of Mort whose brains were being scrambled by Imelda Mondragon; for the sake of her mate who was no doubt holding shit together while she was away.

Blue snatched the frame from the wall and went around to the other random family photos in her bedroom and living room, stacking them together and shoving them unceremoniously on the floor of the hall closet beneath the coats and sweaters that hung there. Those people were part of her past and she had mourned them accordingly, she had to keep her head and focus on her present and future.

With a lack of much else to do, she made herself a large bowl of popcorn and tossed in a VHS at random; chortling at the irony when she realized it was Frank Langella's Dracula.

So much for distracting herself from the problem at hand.

Minutes into the movie, she zoned out wondering what Chuck was up to as she sat here killing time for lack of anything better to do for the time being; suddenly realizing that she was missing his presence once more. Whenever they binged Netflix at home, they would curl up in bed together with junk food and cigarettes; her hands twitching unconsciously in her lap as she recalled her habit of running her fingers through his dark auburn hair, nails teasing the stitches and staples that were a permanent part of his unique anatomy until he had had enough of mere caresses alone and turned in her arms and devoured her lips with his own.

She sighed in frustration with herself and stopped the movie, thinking that she would turn in early and try to figure out where she should begin searching for some semblance of a clue in the morning.

Blue stood in the doorway of her bedroom; so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time, like visiting a childhood haunt that you had outgrown too much to feel welcome at any longer. The empty bed looked bigger than she remembered as she slipped under the covers, too uncertain about her surroundings to change into comfortable sleepwear. Determined to sleep, she shut her eyes tightly and tried to clear her head, the sound of the traffic below minorly distracting after living in a cemetery for so long. After a good twenty minutes of tossing and turning, she let out a frustrated groan and sat up taking her nearly useless cellphone from the nightstand beside her and swiping to her gallery for a lack of anything better to do; studying pictures that she and Chuck had taken together and several older ones of her and Mort.

"Maybe if I go for a fucking drive," Blue sighed with a roll of her eyes, she marched into her living room to snatch her keys from the coffee table before grabbing a coat from the closet at random and pulling it on.

The hall was thankfully deserted once more but she didn't get so lucky with the elevator; having to share with a random neighbor from one of the floors above her.

When she got to her car, she just got in and started driving; blasting the awful outdated music as she chose her directions at random. Had she ever really listened to this shit? She supposed at the time she had because she was blissfully ignorant of anything better. About an hour in to her impromptu road trip, she stopped at a gas station for cigarettes and coffee, rolling the windows down and reveling in the cold November air whipping her hair and numbing her face.

At this late of an hour, traffic had thinned to nearly non-existent as she travelled down random avenues, both residential and commercial, spying some houses that had already begun decorating for Thanksgiving and Christmas; a veritable kaleidoscope of color blossoming at random with every turn she took.

When she noticed that she was heading into the suburbs, she turned around, gliding Bessie onto the expressway and heading towards downtown Chicago with the thought of giving the Marshall Field's windows a look over before she returned home for shits and giggles.

The windows didn't disappoint her as she parked her car and got out to wander along them for a bit, losing herself to memories of simpler times when her father would bring her down here with a thermos of hot cocoa and a pocket full of peppermints and stand in line to meet the store Santa Claus and have her picture taken.

She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat and lit a cigarette, leaving the windows behind and wandering further along the street until she came along a Woolworth that was apparently open late, although that wasn't what had drawn her to the store at first.

Good Guy dolls. Dozens of them on display in the floor to ceiling windows with the lighting around them placed just so in order to attract the attention of every child in the street and ensure the annual gauging of every parent in the metropolitan area for the holidays. As she tossed her half-finished cigarette and wandered into the nearly deserted store, she really didn't know what she hoped to accomplish by torturing herself like this; but she made her way over to the display anyhow.

"Are you looking for a specific one?" the voice of a young woman chirped enthusiastically behind her, effectively startling her from her reverie.

"Uh…. Not really, no. I wasn't even aware that there were different kinds to be honest," Blue confessed awkwardly, wishing the saleswoman would just go away.

"Oh, I meant names. A lot of parents come in looking for one with a specific name in mind, but you can also customize them with different outfits and-

"Chucky. Do you have any named Chucky? Or even Charles?" What the fuck was she doing?

"Sure do. Let me just pull one out for you; I can giftwrap it too if you like?" She offered with a smile, eager to make her sale.

"No. Giftwrapping isn't necessary…. I'll uh…. Do it myself. Half the fun of the holidays, right?" Blue asked lamely.

She was horrible at peopling.

"Oh my gosh, I thought I was the only one that felt that way! So nice to meet a kindred spirit," the saleswoman gushed as she located a box containing a 'Chucky' and carried it towards her register with Blue trailing behind her with the firm belief that she was fucking insane.

Gaga.

She had hit rock bottom and lost her goddamn mind.

The knowledge of that fact didn't stop her from handing over the $108.95 with tax, nor did it deter the weird wiggle of happiness in her gut as she took the oversized box to her car; it just caused her to drive back home without further hesitation in the hope that with the familiar feeling of the doll beside her she might be able to sleep.

She was so distracted with the blissful thought of sleep battling with the anxiety of the thought test she was undergoing that she failed to notice that she wasn't alone in the car.