Just Misunderstood

by thesilverhyena

Stranded under the unforgiving Texas heat, on the run from a deranged cult from her past, Blake McCormick and her father find themselves in Travis County and stumble into the old Last Chance Gas convenience store. There, Blake meets a large, mysterious, yet shy man. She is kind to him. She does not scream. Yet, she does not know what sort of Pandora's Box has just been opened.

23. Pure Chaos

Just Misunderstood

By: TheSilverHyena

Warning:: Contains Mature/Adult Content, Violence and Gore, and Adult Language. If you cannot HANLDE these sorts of things, you might want to go elsewhere. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Chapter 23: Pure Chaos

*Last Chance Gas Station*

Out in the desolate country where the lonely Last Chance stood, all was quiet as it usually was most nights. The only people even out there it seemed were Luda Mae's two friends, the ladies she often invited over to the house for afternoon tea. They graciously agreed to help keep an eye on the store, since Luda Mae had been kept rather busy at the old farmhouse lately ever since Blake was integrated into their lives.

The two of them sat quietly at one of the little wooden tables in the establishment, a nice tea service between them resting neatly on a tray along with a few romance novels. Luda Mae had just called the little station, warning the pair of the "escapee" that may very well head their way for help.

While reading and enjoying their warm drinks, both women were startled from their bliss when what sounded like a pickup truck skidded to a halt beside the gas pumps... like someone in a dire hurry. Henrietta glanced to her much larger companion, who nodded and gave a warm smile.

"That's gotta be her, the one Luda Mae warned us about. We'll give a call once it's done. Certain she'll be nothin' Tommy wont be able to handle easy."

"It'll be a good thing. I hear Luda Mae's concerned about the welfare of the baby. Blake's just not eating enough." Henrietta mentioned, "Better tell Tommy to save the liver and heart, it'll be very nourishing for both mother and child."

She tried to hide her excited smile. While it was usually Thomas and Hoyt that did the killing, there was an undeniable thrill that came along with catching the prey in your trap. Two relatively harmless, kind, and hospitable southern ladies. Nothing to be afraid of at all... right? But by the time anyone figured out what they were doing, it was far too late for the poor soul.

A young woman cried for help outside, then the door swung open revealing the battered-looking teen in question. Plump features, partially fading dark red dye job in her disheveled hair, revealing the natural black underneath, and what appeared to be several old burns on her face along with some fresh cuts on her body. The t-shirt and jeans she was wearing were torn and cut up, with what looked like fresh blood on them. In other words... half the work had already been done for the Hewitts.

"P-please... h-help me! Help me. T-there's a c-crazy guy o-out there, a-and he's chasing m-me!" the teen screamed, hysterically, "L-look... l-look w-what h-he d-did t-too... m-me. I-I need s-some gas, r-right now! A-and a phone!"

Of course, while the young woman panicked, Henrietta and the Tea Lady remained as calm as ever, offering a listening ear. Cautiously, the much smaller woman approached the girl, putting a friendly hand over her shoulder.

"There's no one out there, sweetie. It's okay, you'll be safe here," she reassured the distraught girl, "Just come and sit down with us, nice and easy. Everything will be fine. Have some tea, it helps. There's nothing a good cup of tea can't fix."

Smiling softly, Henrietta poured a cup of the hot, steaming drink and set the little china saucer down in front of their "guest." Of course, the terrified and shaken traveler continued to insist that she needed some gas and a phone to call the police, but eventually took a sip of the tea, if anything else just to soothe her dried and painful throat... or at least Miranda wanted it to seem that way.

Henrietta and her friend cast subtle smirks to each other... at first. That was until they started to feel oddly woozy, tired, and then their vision began to blur. The larger of the two women glanced at her teacup with unsteady eyes, as though checking for something.

"W-what i-is happenin'? I-I'm sure..."

"Oh... nothing's wrong, dear," Miranda scoffed, with a smile as she stood up.

All the fear and panic was gone. Just a facade in order to get close to her prey, "You just happened to pick the wrong bitch to try and play your family's little game with... that's all."

Miranda wiped her finger on the inside of the china teacup, showing a bit of the fine white powder that her drink was laced with. However, as she downed the rest of the tea, the other two women felt the drug's effects while Miranda remained completely unharmed and alert. While the Tea Lady was far too large on top of being inexplicably drugged to even try to get up from her seat, Henrietta had made an attempt to reach the little convenience store's phone, only to collapse mere inches away from it.

Laughing darkly while pulling her pentagram amulet out of her shirt so it could be worn in full display, the demonic cultist smashed the teacup saucer in half against the wooden table, creating a jagged, makeshift blade. Her eyes seemed to shine like the devil's himself as she made a swift slicing motion towards the obese woman. Blood sprayed all over Miranda and the table while the Tea Lady choked and gasped for air that would not come, her throat cut wide open. With one solid kick to the chest from Miranda, the massive woman was left to bleed out and die after crashing to the floor. Henrietta struggled against the effects of the drugs, drugs she had never even ingested! That were intended for Miranda! Weakly, she glanced up, only to take a hard foot to the gut, causing her to weakly cry out and double over in pain.

"W-what... a-are you?"

"What or who I am should be the least of your worries," Miranda snorted, leveling her makeshift blade to the much smaller woman's throat, "This is an honor of the highest decree. You two are going to help me send a message. Praised be the Darkness Below!"

*Back at the Slaughterhouse*

While Hoyt's eyes nervously scanned the opposition, he kept his shotgun pointed at Lucian. As much as the phony sheriff wanted to just pull the trigger, there was no denying just how curious he was for answers. Just who were these degenerates? Why did they want Blake so badly? And how in the hell did this yellow-eyed, white-haired weirdo know of his true name?! The man he killed in order to become Sheriff Hoyt?

Thomas of course was ready to charge the entire group head on. He cared little for reasons or answers, he just wanted them all dead and hanging in his meat locker. Before the massive brute could rush forward with his roaring blade, Hoyt stopped him, taking a nervous step forward. At his movement, the rest of the cultists also tensed up, ready to leap in front of their leader if need be to protect him from whatever inevitable fight was bound to break out.

"It's quite alright..." Lucian said, keeping his voice level and calm as he waved his cultists down, "You have been invited into our fold before, so once more, I extend my offer personally. All I want, what we want, is Blake's return."

He placed his metal foreclaw on the back of Kaylie's neck, silently indicating to her what he'd do should she try to escape. The girl let out a frightened squeal, casting a quick, momentary glance to Thomas while shaking her head. He'd helped her once, maybe he'd help her again.

Hoyt however was already conjuring up a scheme of his own to counter these lunatics. There was no way he'd ever allow his family to submit to this bunch of weirdos and upstage their lifestyle... but this Lucian character couldn't have known that... right?

"Wait jus' a minute boy, keep yer lil' friend ready..." Hoyt whispered, so quietly Thomas had a hard time understanding him.

'He wont join usssssss, Lucccccian... why try welcoming them into the fold?'

At the voices hissing in his mind, the cult leader just smirked, tightening his hold on his already terrified captive, 'Oh I know Charlie wont... but the big brute... oh, he can be persuaded to ensure Blake's safety, and that of the child in her belly. All I need is the right leverage. Where is your faith, my friends?'

With a smile that was too good to be true, Hoyt lowered his shotgun, much to Axle's surprise. Though the occultist policeman remained quiet, knowing how much Lucian hated to be interrupted.

"Well, it is a mighty generous offer commin' from a distinguished man such as yerself," Hoyt noted, "But I'd like to know a few things befer draggin' my kin inta this little club of yers... how in the Hell do ya know Charlie? Charlie's dead! I killed him long ago!"

While Thomas growled softly, leveling a slight glare at his uncle, he noticed the pleading looks Kaylie was trying to convey to him, hoping that he'd understand. The terrified girl was trying to gesture with her bound hands, first to the symbols painted on the floor and walls, then to the multitude of lit candles. Thomas couldn't have been entirely certain, after all, he'd seen several of his own nameless victims futilely struggle against captivity, but it seemed as though she were trying to warn them about something. Lucian, meanwhile, chuckled softly before shoving Kaylie to the floor and ordering two of his soldiers to hold her while he stepped forward.

"No... it was Hoyt who died. The real Hoyt whom you slaughtered in the street like a common animal. The man who provided your first taste of human flesh and created a craving that cannot be slaked. Charlie took his place. And for the last several years, Charlie has been calling himself Sheriff Hoyt," Lucian explained, speaking every word with a straight face, "I have friends, you see. Friends who whisper deep, dark, secluded secrets in my ears all hours of day and night. There is little you can hide from me."

At the cult leader's explanation, Hoyt's eyes widened in awe and something akin to terror. That was years ago, just as the entirety of Travis County officially took it's first step into the threshold of Hell! All of this, there had to be a rational explanation! Sure, he should have expected "I listen to the voices in my head" or something along those lines from the robed loony before him. Maybe this guy somehow witnessed that murder? Out in the dusty road... in the middle of nowhere on that searing Summer day? Yet... had it been anyone else, Hoyt would have simply blown his head off by now. But there was something inexplicable, compelling him to listen... almost as though his willpower was being sapped. Like... he was under some sort of spell or hypnosis.

"T-there ain't no way ya could have-never mind, it ain't worth goin' into with ya," Hoyt stammered at first, while struggling to regain his composure.

There was no hiding that what Lucian told Hoyt scared the fake lawman to no end. Kaylie couldn't have told him, she didn't know. Well, it was of little matter, after Hoyt got the answer to his next question, he planned to fill the cultist leader full of shot, "Let's try this, then. What makes Blake so fuckin' important to ya, huh? See, Tommy here has taken quite a shyin' to that girl. What's this 'Flesh and Blood of some Honored Mother' I keep hearin' ya prattle on about? They connected in some way?"

Now Thomas could feel his blood run cold, something that didn't happen to the big brute all that often. Oh, he knew full well. Blake had confided in him and Thomas never told anyone, not even attempted to show what Blake could do or where exactly she came from.

Curiously, Lucian tilted his head, ignoring Kaylie's frightened squealing for the moment and the low murmur of his followers, "You honestly have no idea of just what that girl is. WHO she is... do you?" he asked Hoyt, before shifting his gaze to Thomas, "But he does."

At once, Hoyt's suspicious gave shifted to him nephew, though he didn't seem to take complete note of the change in body language. But there was enough to let him know that something was bothering Thomas about this particular subject.

"What?! Hmmm, just what does the boy here, know that I don't?!"

'He really doesssssssn't know, Lucccccccian... the fool hasssss been in the dark the entire time. Kheheheheeeeeee...' whispered one of the demons residing in Lucian's mind.

'Seems like Blake's been a clever little girl... she knows who she can trust.' Lucian answered, mentally as he flashed another smirk, this time at Thomas.

A soft murmur of snorting and laughter filled the room as the zealots, hidden beneath their hooded robes, along with Axle, snickered amongst themselves like there was some sort of joke going on that only they understood. Seeing that Hoyt had squirmed on the proverbial hook long enough, Lucian took it upon himself to enlighten the cannibalistic hick.

"Is it not obvious by now? Blake McCormick is none other than the daughter of our noble founder, Amelia Rake. She is now the only living member of our Honored Mother's bloodline," he spat, "Where do you think her... peculiar gifts come from? She is one of the last true Children of Elm Street. That girl means more to us then you'll ever be able to comprehend."

Hoyt couldn't believe his ears. Blake, the little bitch his nephew was smitten with, who carried the next generation of the Hewitt bloodline within her womb... was the daughter of this heathen cult's founder?! It was beyond ludicrous... yet, oddly explained a lot of the strange happenings that had been going on ever since Luda Mae decided to "keep" Blake and force her into the family. More so, how much did his big, dumb brute of a nephew really know?

'Hmmmmm... perhapsssss hisssss will issss weaker then firssssst anticcccipated.' whispered one of Lucian's fiends, 'Hurry now... the promisssse made to ussss long ago is ssssssso closssse to being fulfilled.

Listening, the cult leader gave a barely noticeable nod, 'I know, my friends. Please, be patient and lend me your power.'

"Now... I am a generous host, Charlie. All I want is Blake returned to The Soldiers of Eternal Damnation where she belongs. In my gratitude, I'll return what you have lost. And your family may live a comfortable life in peace and never go hungry again. That's all you want, is it not?" Lucian offered, as he flexed his steel claws across the makeshift alter, partially cutting through the red shroud that covered it.

"Think of it, you wouldn't have to pretend anymore." Axle urged, "No one would ever try to bother you and yours ever again. Pfttt... the whole lot of ya have already proven yourselves worthy acolytes."

Before Lucian could "sweeten" his proposition even further, Kaylie began letting out her muffled screams and struggling again, only to be backhanded by Axle. It... honestly sounded like a good deal, especially coming from Lucian. Something about the cult leader's voice, like venomous silk... the way his eyes shone in the darkness and the dim glow of candlelight caught the gleam of his metal-plated glove and ornate golden cane. Thomas felt himself falling into a daze, staring at the candles where Lucian's clawed hand rested, the grip on his beloved chainsaw weakening ever so slightly. For some reason, Kaylie had kept glancing to them, but why, Thomas didn't know.

On Hoyt's spectrum, in a lapse in judgment and weakness of will, he nearly accepted Lucian's offer... until he snapped out of the bazaar trance he had fallen into.

"Jus-just what the fuck do ya think yer tryin' ta pull on me, you blasphemous, demon-worshipin' son of a bitch?!" he snarled, raising his shotgun once more, "Didja really think we'd join with ya fuckin' heathens?!"

"It was worth a try..." Lucian purred, with a smirk, "...Such wasted talent."

While Hoyt and Lucian got into a heated shouting match and the rest of the robed hooligans prepared their various weapons to launch an assault at their leader's command, Thomas felt as though he'd been frozen in place. His eyes rolled toward the back of his head and all the voices seemed to fade, save for one which he welcomed.

'T-Thomas!' cried out Blake's gentle but frightened disembodied voice, 'Listen to me... you need to get out of there... NOW! I've seen...'

While Blake's voice may have trailed off, Thomas could see the very room he and his uncle stood inside his mind's eye. Only, it was slightly different. Some of the cultists were still painting their pagan symbols on the walls and floor. But there was something else being used to coat key weak points of the building's structure; Thomas recognized the canisters. He had several of the same kind to hold the fuel for his chainsaw. But then, if the entire place was rigged to be set ablaze-? It finally struck Thomas! The stench of rotten flesh, thick smoke and haze from illicit substances and sickeningly sweet incense. It all worked together and did an effective job at masking the smell of gasoline and turpentine! That's what Kaylie, of all people, was trying to warn him about.

'Pretty Blake?' Thomas groggily wondered, gazing around.

He snapped out of his haze, plunked right back into the tense standoff. Lucian and Hoyt were still exchanging a ferocious argument that struck a boiling point. Suddenly, the cultist leader paused, as if listening to something only he could hear, his clawed hand close to one of the lit candles. With a furious snarl, Thomas began to pull the cord to his trusty chainsaw, each tug progressing in a slightly louder growl from the beastly machine's engine.

"About time ya got that thing up'n runnin', boy! Only been tellin' ya fer-never mind!" Hoyt barked, leveling his shotgun toward the small horde of cultists that surrounded him,"Now listen up, ya devil-fuckin' sons of bitches! THIS here is redemption!"

Another angry snarl from the chainsaw's motor echoed throughout the old slaughterhouse.

"You know... the furious parents of Elm Street thought they'd redeem the Springwood Slasher through a cleansing of fire..." Lucian purred, emphasizing his clawed gauntlet while circling the alter, "But from fire, smoke, and ash arose such a terror, fear incarnate... the likes of which none of them could have ever dreamed of. They dare not speak of his deeds or name! Now... I wonder how the Fires of Hell will sculpt the likes of you. Shall we find out?"

Just as the occultist leader finished, Thomas' chainsaw finally roared to life with a vengeance. The other Soldiers of Eternal Damnation began to swarm in, using their greater numbers to their advantage. Axle hung back with one other, making sure that in the chaos, their prisoner didn't slip away. Meanwhile, Kaylie screamed through her gag and thrashed against her captors, enough to pull the rag out of her mouth.

"DON'T! THEY'VE GOT THIS ENTIRE PLACE-!" she screamed, before Axle struck her in the face once more.

Thomas knew exactly what she was going to say. He even tried to stop his uncle from unwittingly making such a massive blunder. But it was too late. Hoyt had already fired his shotgun at Lucian, startling even Thomas. The direct hit to the chest caused the robed heathen to stumble backwards, crashing into the alter and knocking it over... along with all of the lit candles upon it. Soon, Lucian's pained cries turned into demonic laughs as the flames spread quickly along the ground, setting all the symbols and runes alight, then up the sides and support beams of the old slaughterhouse. Now, Hoyt's fury turned to terror, finding himself inside of an already unstable, now rapidly burning building with about ten to twelve others who showed no fear of dying in such a horrific fashion.

"Praised be the Darkness Below! To the Honored Mother we pledge our Flesh, Blood, and Bone!" was spoken in a hauntingly rhythmic chant.

"What in the fuckin' hell is wrong with all ya people?!" Hoyt bellowed, taking a step back, only to realize that with one more, he'd have quite easily been perforated with a wicked looking knife, "Go on boy, don't just stand there, git 'em!"

With a growl rivaling that of his chainsaw, Thomas picked out his first targets. One of the robed hooligans attacked with a chain and knife while the other sported two meat hooks of her own. There was a painful screech of metal on metal as the man with the chain held out the length of thick, metal links to 'catch' Thomas' chainsaw while the others surrounded and attempted to overpower him through sheer numbers. All the while, another loud 'BOOM' from Hoyt's shotgun echoed throughout the burning building and Kaylie screamed in terror as she tried to launch her own feeble escape.

But even for their greater quantity, the occultists were quick to find out that the Hewitts weren't their standard fare of prey. With a powerful kick to the chest, Thomas knocked the man with the chain to the grimy floor, dislodging his saw before plunging it through the neck of the woman who stabbed him in the shoulder. She barely got out a scream as the unforgiving chainsaw ripped through her flesh and bypassed the body armor she was wearing beneath her robes. A thick spatter of blood coated Thomas' face, hands, and upper body when he finally relieved the woman of her head, leaving the body to collapse before finding his chainsaw's next victim.

"Damn it all ta hell!" Hoyt cursed, feeling the feeling of warm blood trickling from the cut on his arm.

Using his now empty shotgun as a club, he struck the robed demon-worshiper in the side of the head before kneeing him in the chest. Just when Hoyt realized that it didn't do as much damage as he would have hoped, considering the thick padding of a kevlar vest beneath the loose robes and ornamentations, the cultist retaliated, gripping the false sheriff by the neck with long, claw-like fingernails.

"That's where you're going, blasphemer! You should have-!"

Before the nutjob could finish his spiel, Thomas shoved one of the other cultists that attempted to get in his way into the fire before turning his chainsaw on his uncle's attacker. The bloody blade's teeth tore through the flesh and bone of the man's arm, leaving the severed hand clinging lifelessly to Hoyt's skin and the previous owner to stare in horror at the stump left behind. Remembering the body armor that these people liked to wear, Thomas instead went for the legs and thighs, completely crippling the man in a few swings. All around, there were several dismembered bodies, some headless or partially so, others with their midsections split open, blood and entrails spilling out, and some adding fuel to the fire as the blaze consumed them.

Seeing and breathing began to get more and more difficult, as the smoke filled the room. Flaming pieces of the building began to creak and crumble, falling to the ground and raising plumes of sparks and shrapnel as they did. Not to mention the searing heat became nearly unbearable.

Kaylie's distinctive screaming became fainter and fainter, which was when both Hoyt and Thomas realized that they didn't see her, Axle, or even Lucian anywhere. They must have scurried away in all the chaos while the acolytes performed the dirty work!

"Shit, -cough- That... white-haired son of a -cough- fuckin' bitch." Hoyt cursed, covering his mouth with one arm in an attempt to protect himself from the smoke and fumes that were trying to fill his lungs, "Boy... we-we gotta go!"

Thomas let out a strained grunt as well, pulling the meat hook that had been lodged into his flesh out. The wound was deep and bled, but he didn't seem to notice at the moment. Instead, Thomas lunged at the next closet target, dragging the hissing and shouting cultist right up to him. The insane heathen continued to stab, cut, and jab Thomas, even as the brute was driving his chainsaw through the body armor. He only stopped screaming and proclaiming his loyalty to Lucian when the chainsaw had chewed up his innards into an unrecognizable soup and the two separate halves of his body were left to fall lifelessly to the ground in a bloody pulp.

There were still a few more cultists regrouping in the burning building, preparing for their next attack. Despite everything, Thomas wasn't in the mood to deal with them right now. He didn't have to be a psychic to predict where Lucian was headed next, and Thomas would be damned to leave Blake, their unborn child, and Mamma at home and unprotected!

Coughing and choking gruffly on the smoke, Thomas turned and headed for the corridor in which they entered in the first place. Even with his chainsaw still sputtering in one hand, the massive brute grabbed Hoyt by the back of his uniform shirt, practically dragging the man behind him. Being unprepared for his nephew to manhandle him like one of their victims, Hoyt dropped the shotgun while he was trying to reload it.

"Shit... -cough-, boy! Ya coulda-"

Hoyt cut off his yelling as yet another piece of the burning roof caved inward and crashed to the concrete floor, where he had been just seconds before. Sure, the shotgun was completely destroyed, but that could have easily been him. Struggling to find his footing, Hoyt trotted alongside his enormous nephew, hacking and coughing along the way.

Thomas picked up his pace, seeing the fierce, orange glow of the fire spreading down the previously dark corridor. While there weren't as much flames, the smoke and lack of ventilation was another issue. The slight jingle and rustle of chains could be heard, along with racing footsteps and slamming doors.

"Tommy!" Hoyt shouted, in warning.

Through the smokey haze, a dark, shadowy figure could be seen rushing towards them, a crowbar in his hand raised and poised to strike. But even sputtering and not running at full capacity, Thomas' chainsaw still packed a nasty wallop with the brute's might behind it. The cultist only got a glancing blow while Thomas belted him down the hall and against the wall, causing a nasty gash on the man's arm, leaving him to cry out in agony. Leaving him to die via infection and smoke inhalation, Thomas continued, despite his Uncle's protests.

"God dammit, boy... -cough, cough- I ain't... one of them... damn meat sacks!" he growled, pulling his police issue handgun out of the holster on his belt.

Thomas finally let go of his uncle once they were close enough to the door Axle initially led them through. With any luck, their car would still be there, and in working order. Though that little issue was a minor worry. A few more gunshots rang out, painfully loud in the tighter quarters. Anything the bullets didn't kill, the smoke and fire would.

Once outside, the fresh, smoke-free air felt like a luxury they had always taken for granted. From where they were, they could see the fire spreading and consuming the building. And of course, a fire this big was bound to get some attention, sooner rather than later. While Hoyt made a quick inspection of his car, finding nothing sabotaged, he pointed his gun at Axle's cruiser, firing a few rounds into the tires.

"Let's go, Tommy!" Hoyt shouted, getting behind the wheel and practically jamming the keys into the ignition.

Thomas however, was highly suspicious. While he didn't see anyone around, he couldn't help but feel as though they were being watched from somewhere in the darkness. But, right now, Blake and the rest of his family were far more important. Before jumping in the passenger seat, Thomas had the wits about him to check the back seat, just to make sure one of the lunatics wasn't hiding back there. (A nasty little trick Thomas himself had pulled once.)

Bringing his trusty saw to a halt, Thomas got into the passenger seat. The blade still had bits of flesh and bone stuck in it's teeth and thick, congealed blood dripped all over the brute's lap and the interior of the cruiser. Not that Hoyt cared at this moment. For the first few minutes after peeling away with all haste, he was uncharacteristically silent. Even a little shaken. Sure, they've had issues with their food fighting back before, but this time, THEY WERE the prey! These cultists were just screwing with them, the same way a cat plays with a mouse before finally slaughtering it!

'Blake... my pretty Blake. Keep... pretty Blake and baby safe!' Thomas growled, over and over again in his mind.

He needed to get home. To be with her, hold her. Reassure his special girl that he was there to keep her warm and safe. He only hoped that he didn't make a lapse in judgment by trusting Blake with the key to her chains.

'Pretty Blake mine, good girl. Nice girl... not leave Thomas... pretty Blake good girl.'

Hoyt however had much more sinister thoughts running through his mind. He had gotten the answers he'd been wanting to know. Casting a slightly narrowed glance at Thomas, the phony sheriff wondered. Did Thomas know something... special about Blake? Did Blake tell him that her own mother happened to be some heathen cult leader witch? Tommy was always a good, obedient boy... until the day Mamma decided to give him his very own pet! The daughter of a demon-worshiper. A blasphemous child that now held HIS nephew's spawn inside of her. Perhaps that explained the recent rift in the family hierarchy.

'Sorry boy... but that little bitch of yers... has GOT ta go!'

Maybe Mamma and Uncle Monty would be understanding and talk some sense into Thomas after the deed was done. All Hoyt had to do was explain it to them what Blake was. What she REALLY was. They'd brought the devil's spawn into their house and it had afflicted Thomas! Once Blake was gone, the cult would have no reason to keep harassing them. They'd move on elsewhere and leave the Hewitts to their business. People like that couldn't risk going to the police and turning his family in... could they? No. No way was that Axle Walker a real cop! As for Kaylie... if Hoyt was lucky, they'd finish the job he and Thomas set out to do in the first place! After all, they couldn't let her go and they weren't going to be giving her back to him anytime soon! Either way, he'd find a way to tie up that loose end, one way or another.

TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~

Meanwhile, watching from the thin and sparse woods just outside of the burning slaughterhouse, Lucian, Axle, and a few of the others that had managed to escape the blaze watched as the police car sped off into the night, swerving dangerously on the road until the driver finally took control. Kaylie was still with them, unwillingly, two men holding her while she sobbed, choked, and coughed uncontrollably.

With a pained grunt, Lucian opened up his once fine, now tattered robe, glaring down at the buckshot splintering throughout his body armor.

"You're lucky that old fool didn't aim for your head, My Lord." Axle stated.

"Not luck, my friend. Charlie... is not as strong willed as Hoyt..." Lucian purred, with a devious smile.

He watched Hoyt's cruiser disappear in the distance, scraping his claws together in anticipation. Round one was over. Now... the REAL fun could begin.

"When the mice are scared, they scurry back home to their burrow." Axle said.

"And then... the cat knows where to lie in wait." Lucian finished.

Kaylie glanced up, only having just been able to finally catch her breath, "What the fuck i-is w-wrong w-with all you fucking psychos?!"

Axle just groaned, drawing his revolver, "Any reason to bother keeping this one alive anymore?!"

The girl screamed and sobbed in terror, shrinking back as much as her captors would allow and closed her eyes. She trembled violently, the only sounds being that of the slow murmur of the cultists and the fire raging in the building they were in not ten minutes ago.

"Yes," Lucian answered, "We would only be doing... what those two set out to take care of in the first place. No... we need this one alive. Some leverage may come in handy. For little Blake has a tender and caring heart."

Before he could elaborate further, the cellphone in his pocket began to vibrate. Thankfully, Hoyt hadn't managed to hit it with the shotgun. Lucian flipped it open, and Miranda's voice came over the speaker,

"Praised be the Darkness Below... we're ready, My Lord. All of us."

"Excellent, my dear Miranda... I knew I could put my trust in you. Meet us there."

TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~ TCM~

Back at the farmhouse, Blake could finally feel the effects of the mild sedative Luda Mae had dosed her with wearing off. Her mind was hazy and she felt tired, like she'd stretched her mind to it's limit. She'd never tried to reach Thomas when he was that far away before, or when he was still awake and she asleep for that matter. Sitting up, Blake rubbed the sleep from her eyes, only to hear something clatter to the floor.

"W-what was-?"

Before she could finish her question, Blake saw that it was the key to her bindings... Thomas, he had left it for her, and Luda Mae didn't notice it after tucking the girl in for the night. Gingerly, she picked it up off the floor, thinking long and hard. This was her chance... the two most dangerous members of the family were gone for the moment and the key to her shackles in her hand. All she'd have to do is sneak out, get Toby, and run.

"B-but then what? Run to where exactly?" Blake sighed.

Where could she go that the deranged cult hunting her wouldn't follow? With a baby growing inside her belly? What of Thomas? Despite everything Blake had seen him do, betraying his trust just felt... wrong. The first person she developed a genuine psychic link with... would she ever be able to forgive herself for abandoning him? Every time she tried to leave, some greater force always seemed to hold her back.

"M-maybe... it's finally time... to stop running..."

::To be Continued::

Author's Notes:: I know it's been a while. Normally I like to wait until the next chapter's first draft is complete until I post. (Chapter 24's first draft is about halfway done, at 5 and 1/2 pages so far... after all this time.) So, SOOOOOOO sorry for the torturously long wait, but I've just been in a personal funk of my own, and my art and writing were suffering for it. BUT, I wanna get back into it! Please, you're comments, critiques, and kind words help me keep going. All the love that this story has gotten, it's meant a lot to me. I keep telling myself "There's only a few more chapters left to go... then a sequel!" (No joke.)

Anyways, the Soldiers of Eternal Damnation have sprung their own plan into motion. It particular, I enjoyed writing Lucian and Hoyt together. They're both essentially leaders in their own way and we have a serious clash of cultures.

Thomas doesn't realize the full extent of what his Uncle plans to do now. Will he submit to his family as he has always done? Or will his love for Blake and their unborn child override any order spewed from his Uncle's mouth.

The real battle is soon to come.

Disclaimer:: I do not claim to own Texas Chainsaw Massacre or any of it's Characters. The References to Jason Voorhees and Lisa Voorhees are from Lady_Voorhees' story, The Strange Good Girl.