"ARE YOU IN THE CELLAR?!" Mr Cutty roared furiously. Arthur nearly tripped on the small steps, trying to get away from the locker he had reclaimed his stuff from. He heard footsteps and faint whistling, as Mr Cutty climbed down the ladder.
Arthur quickly darted to the room beside the entrance, his fragile hope shattering for what felt like the millionth time that week.
Where is the exit?! There's no door, It's just a dead-end!
Sweat pooled down his face, the whistling he could hear from Mr Cutty stopped. "There you are, you troublesome meat-boy!"
He snapped around, nearly pulling a muscle as he did so. Mr Cutty was tapping a remote-control slowly and threateningly. Only now had Arthur noticed, that the cellar was also littered with Spankers. Returning his attention to the butcher, the man's face showed only twisted and evil emotions- If you could even call them emotions, that is.
Just as the butcher began to charge up the Spanker in the current room, Arthur noticed that it only started to charge one of them.
Maybe he can only control one Spanker at a time?
Quickly, he had ran toward Mr Cutty. The butcher's face now replaced with a look of confusion. Pushing him aside, the butcher let out a grunt and dropped his remote. Arthur ran around and made random turns, being as quiet as possible. Trying to confuse the butcher and hoping he loses sight of him.
However, the butcher recovered quickly. Arthur screamed loudly when the butcher came from behind and snatched him.
He struggled frantically in the butcher's harsh grasp, trying to elbow him, but falling short. Mr Cutty had the advantage, soon replacing his grip with a headlock, attempting to make Arthur pass-out.
He couldn't breathe- He was going to faint! God, what was Mr Cutty going to do to him after his attempted escape? Surely the man wouldn't fall for the façade and trickery again. That is- if there is another time to attempt, by the end of the week he could very well be in some woman's stew!
Arthur's screams turned into shrieks and soon began to slowly die out, as his breath slowed down. His vision blurred, blinking repeatedly in attempts to fix his eyesight. His eyes started to roll back, body going slacker by the passing second.
Suddenly however, a faint but consistent smashing could be heard upstairs. Immediately grabbing Mr Cutty's attention, as it got louder and more desperate. His grip loosening slightly, but just enough. Arthur took his opportunity and elbowed him in the gut, effectively winding the man.
Ducking under one of the many wine-shelfs, Arthur held his breath. Mr Cutty had begun cursing under his breath- Which soon turned to angered yelling. He held an emptied glass, which had previously contained alcoholic contents, judging by the strong scent.
That sound must've come from a door, meaning someone was trying to get in. Arthur smiled, this meant there is a way out!
Mr Cutty ignored the distraction in favour of finding Arthur. The butcher grew close, now standing right in front of him. Arthur had tensed in fright, leaning away from the man and hurling the empty bottle across the room.
The bottle must have hit a pile of other glasses, as the shatter was incredibly loud. Mr Cutty turned around, laughing deviously as he stepped toward the source of the commotion.
Taking advantage of the situation, Arthur lightly glided toward the ladder. He climbed quickly and slammed the cellar door shut. Putting a paint bucket to weigh it down. It wouldn't stop Mr Cutty from getting back out, but it certainly would slow him down.
Arthur didn't know where to go now. Where else could he go? Damnit! I should've thought this through.
Memories ran through his head, trying to figure out what places he hadn't checked. Just then, a loud crash echoed from somewhere nearby. Arthur turned his head to an open door, that's where Mr Cutty kept watch of me, wasn't it?
Of course- He must've forgotten to close the door when coming back up! Must be they way out as well, it made better sense than the cellar.
"YOU BASTARD- YOU TRICKED ME!" Mr Cutty swore as he banged on the cellar door violently.
Arthur immediately raced toward the other room and locked the way he came through, spotting another ladder and trap-door. Quickly, he scrambled up to the exit, opening the trap-door and breathing in the scent of fresh air.
Or as fresh as it gets in a butchery..
He slumped over, shakily huffing. It felt like his heart was going a hundred miles a minute. He couldn't get over the withdrawal that came from his adrenaline. God, I'm getting old..
"Reg?"
Arthur looked up, frightened. Making eye-contact with a red-bobby. The bobby's face dropped upon spotting Arthur, confusion and shock written all over. He seemed very familiar, but Arthur couldn't point out why. He met dozens of bobbies on a daily basis. Well, mostly on the days he spent not being kidnapped by a lunatic-butcher.
"What's going on? Where is Reg?" The bobby began to question.
Arthur shook, maybe I should tell him? I mean he is a bobby- it's his job to stop these sorts of things from happening.
"Mr Cutty is turning cadavers into V-meat-" He began.
"I barely escaped becoming V-meat myself! He's got these horrible machines that turn people into… Meat Bundt cake!" Arthur spoke shakily, still recovering from the event.
"Human Bundt cake?!" The Constable had gagged. "That's monstrous! Is he armed?"
"He has a rather nasty Spanker, but I think I trapped him in the cellar.." The Constable nodded, seeming only slightly less shocked now.
"Right, I'll knock out the power. Just, stay outside until I do." The bobby reassured.
Arthur took a long-deep breath, now a little calmer than before. He walked outside, avoiding any splinters from the broken door and sat down on the cool curb-side. He glanced at the cloudy night-sky, taking in how calming the deep blues were.
No wonder there was no light, it's past curfew. Mr Cutty didn't even give him a full-nights rest before pushing him to more work!
Constable Hark shut-down the power and asked his co-workers to be on stand-by, in case anything went wrong. Climbing down the ladder he removed a fairly-heavy paint-bucket and slowly opened the cellar.
Where a furious butcher leaped out and attacked him. Reg Cutty attempted to pin him down, blinded by rage. Failing miserably, when the constable over-powered him and snatched his arms. Charleston snapped hand-cuffs onto the butcher's wrists, effectively restricting his movement and preventing him from retaliating.
The man attempted to twist around to look at Hark, froth foaming at his mouth as he yelled at him.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME- I'M THE PILLAR OF THE COMMUNITY!"
He pulled Reg Cutty up to a standing position and shoved him outside to his co-workers. Constable Mervin taking custody of the butcher and smirking.
"IT'S ALL LIES- I'M ONLY TRYING TO FEED PEOPLE! YOU'RE LETTING PERFECTLY GOOD MEAT GO ROTTEN!"
That rat-bastard will get what's coming to him, he better mention me as part of capturing Mr Cutty, at least.
Finally, after the man was dragged away, quite forcibly, Constable Hark turned to the downer. It was interesting that he keeps running into this man, he should really keep an eye on him.
He outstretched his hand as he sat beside the downer. "Constable Hark, or Charleston- if you prefer." Taking his hand and shaking, the downer hesitantly spoke. "Arthur Hastings."
Only then, did a wave of realisation pass over Arthur's face.
"Wait- were you that bobby from the alley-way?" He questioned.
Charleston nodded. So, he didn't recognise me.. That's a little more comforting than finding out that I make him uncomfortable, I guess..
"It's past curfew, it wouldn't be safe to travel alone. Would you care to come to my place for the night?" Hark asked awkwardly.
He really didn't want Arthur to go to the shelter- It was much too far and dangerous, especially at night. He was honestly surprised Arthur hadn't contracted some sort of fatal disease from a stray rat by now.
Arthur hesitantly nodded, unsure of if he should trust the Constable. But decided that he was far too tired and could figure everything out in the morning. He yawned weakly, on the verge of passing out. Trying to escape cannibal-butchers tended to do that to you.
Charleston grabbed hold of Arthur and slung him on his broad shoulders. There was no way the downer would make it to his house without falling asleep, he chuckled deeply.