While the freaks were rolling to a stop outside a desolate general store with a cringe-inducing name, Police Chief Lou was parked on the edge of thirty-five Industry Way. It was a rather standard abandoned factory, a product of free-trade agreements and a stagnating local economy. The entire street told the same story, chained gates and shuttered windows reminding anyone looking for a job that they had all gone South. In the case of 35, it was on its last legs, on the verge of collapsing under its own weight. The city council had voted to have it torn down, but that was not why Lou was present. No, he was there because of a panicked phone call about a body discovered in the offices.

Given the impoverished nature of the district, there were no onlookers, the caution tape doing its solemn duty to steer away the homeless. Flashing blue and red lights illuminated the shadows around the police as they guarded the perimeter.

His second in command, Officer Eddie, was already on the scene, standing near the iron gate, taking a statement from the bum that found the scene. He made a few scratches on his notepad, nodding along with the disheveled man's chaotic mannerisms.

He turned to face his chief. In the gloom of thirty-five, Lou took a drink of coffee. "What do we know? Same MO as the Borton kid?" The remains of a High Schooler had been discovered near Jittery Joe's Coffee Shop, mangled beyond recognition and decapitated. In the interest of public order, the information had not been released to the public aside from the boy's parents.

"Not even close." Eddie said dryly, flipping his notepad to the first page. "That poor kid was taken apart by a wild animal. This… well, it's better you see for yourself, chief." They ducked under the caution tape that crossed the gate, heading into the factory.

As they walked onto the spacious main floor that was lit by cracks in the smudged glass, revealing a vacant interior aside from barrels of industrial wastes and typewriters. A few officers were amusing themselves by dissolving these archaic machines in the orange goo. A sizzle was heard as the metal vanished beneath the bubbling surface. Lou touched the brim of his cap absent-mindedly. "Why on Earth did all the murderers come out of the woodwork after Clancy retired? Two in a week has got to be bad luck."

"Because you actually were crazy enough to go looking for trouble." Eddie chortled as they climbed the stairs that lead into the offices of the building. Stopping outside what was once the boss's office, he stopped his friend as a member of the forensic team, left looking rather pale. "It's pretty grisly. Seen nothing like it before."

Lou nodded as they entered. He almost threw up right there, because suspended by individual ligaments from the ceiling was a man. At least, he thought it was a man; given the state of the body, it could have been easily confused for a flesh-lined puppet. Skinned alive with surgical tubing snaking outward from every major artery, leading into multiple glass jars surrounding the victim's feet, it was hard to fathom the amount of patience required to enact such torture. Whoever this person was, his beady rat-like eyes had been gouged out, thin unattractive lips cut cleanly from his face, along with having his tongue bulging out of a crudely sliced a hole in his cheek. Each of his teeth had been plucked painstakingly from his bloodied mouth and was now meticulously ordered in a way that connected each filled jar. The skull had been crushed open using some kind of blunt object, meaning pieces of brain matter were visible through his receding hairline, comprising greasy, curly, unkempt black hair. It was easy to guess whoever the dead man was. He had to be some kind of recluse, or at the very least detached from the social dogma.

His yellow skin was now a waxy white, and flies were buzzing around the gaping gash in his stomach where his intestines spilled out onto the table. Droplets of blood fell onto the floor, the entire scene reeking of shit. Behind the body was a symbol, three interlinked circles matching the arrangement of the jars and teeth. The phrase, 'All is one,' was scrawled beneath it in white chalk.

Overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, the normally stoic chief staggered out of the room and parting with the contents of his stomach in the hallway. So much for an evening coffee. Eddie followed, and Lou wiped his mouth using a handkerchief. "Christ… I." He was struggling to formulate a proper reaction. Nearly twenty years on the force, and in a small town like Springfield, meant he took certain things for granted. Primarily that no one would inflict unnecessary brutality on a person. Wiping his brow, he tried to regain some semblance of authority. "When was he found?"

"About an hour ago. Bum outside wanted a place to sleep for the night. Broke in and found the body shortly after." Eddie explained, his own face doing little to show his internal distress. He helped his boss stand. "We found a driver's license in one of the jars."

Lou tossed away his empty coffee cup. "… Well, that is something at least." Stepping back into the room while another police officer examined the body. "Who is it?" He asked as he opened the window, allowing some fresh air inside.

Flipping to the next page of his notepad, Eddie said. "Matt Selman. Some sort of hack journalist." His finger ran down the yellow page. "Fifty years old, a mere one hundred pounds. Barely four feet nine inches."

"Anything come up in the preliminary background check?"

"A few things. However, honestly, chief, this guy is remarkable in how unremarkable he is." Eddie explained. "Incredible to find someone who has never succeeded at anything in their lives. Outside of being affiliated with some pseudo-feminist group in Pennsylvania, of which he was kicked out of when being exposed as a serial groper. In fact, the entire group was disbanded when it was realized they were male run and dominated. He also briefly wrote for a local student paper… then was kicked out again for harassing a woman in the office."

"Okay, I get it. He is a serial harasser who fronts as a feminist. That doesn't help us much," Lou mused, collecting his bearings. "Unless we assume this is the act of some a victim, which I doubt any normal person could go through the effort required to… do that to a man."

He was pointing at the mangled corpse. Eddie concurred. "And whoever did this wanted to be damn sure Matt suffered horrendously." He directed his boss to a cordoned-off corner of the desk below the late Selman dangled. "Amphetamine residue. He was awake."

A troubling prospect, Lou rubbed his chin. "So, nothing else at all? This is pretty hefty overkill for a misogynist."

Eddie thumbed through his notepad. "Well, Ruth found one other strange thing." He had written a few bullet points. "He has a daughter who was being bullied, and when finding it out, he essentially went on a rampage against the girl responsible. Ruthlessly harassing, berating, and abusing this ten-year-old until she was struck by a bus trying to get away from him. He laughed it off, saying it was funny."

"That… sounds like a murder charge, at the very least," Lou said, unnerved, looking back at their dangling friend. "Small egotistical man needs to have control in his life. Despite his outward need to present as a kind, well-meaning person, in reality harming women is what he enjoys. Case as old as time." He scratched his hair. "Guess that kind of narrows down probable reasons as to why he is dead. Was Matt arrested?"

"No, that is the most disturbing part. He was never even investigated despite being present at every scene. The neighborhood was quite cultish and leaped to his defense. Then blamed the victim for being, quote, a mean girl." Eddie said, snapping his notepad shut with a flick of his wrist. "That is all we got on this pathetic waste of skin at the moment. I guess technically, this means he's not quite a nobody. Just a sociopath given too much power over people's lives."

Putting a hand against his cheek, Lou was not sure what to say. "Hmm." However, before he could speak, the jaw of the victim unhinged black bile spilled onto the face of the unfortunate police officer, who was attempting to take the corpse down. The man stumbled backward as a tape recorder plopped onto the floor with a click.

Lou and Eddie walked over carefully, as their man fled from the room, wiping his face desperately. Pulling on a latex glove, Lou knelt. "… This is." He picked up the recorder, popping open the side. Inside was a tape. He pressed play as Eddie got closer to listen.

Hello… Chief Lou. The audio was distorted, and time had been spent ensuring it would mask the identity of the speaker. Though it could not entirely conceal the nasally nature of the voice. "Do not weep at this thing. A tether has been severed. The first of four Mad Kings, who have blinded our imaginations, has met a just end.… For I have been granted direction… For it, the one that lurks in deep waters, has seen fit to bless me with visions of our future.

Do not ignore the call, Chief. I have so much to show you… It is truly amazing what one can find when you go looking in the right places."

The tape ended, and Lou slid it into a plastic evidence bag. "Great. So our small town now has a serial killer." He removed his glove, repeating. "For it, the one that lurks in deep waters… It is truly amazing what one finds when you go looking in the right places." He glanced over. "Any of that mean anything to you, Eddie?"

"The ramblings of a lunatic." Eddie said, adjusting his belt. "What should we do, Chief?"

"This is far out of our league," Lou commented, walking to the door while weighing his options. "If this person intends to keep killing, we are going to need help." He left, heading back down the stairs, passed a few officers, and went back outside.

Inside his car, Lou unhooked his radio receiver. "You there Ruth?"

The radio crackled, and Ruth said. "Here, boss."

"Get Special Agent Rex Banner with the FBI. Tell him I am calling in that favor he owes me." He was too focused to notice a one-armed man standing in the nearby alleyway. This unknown subject was quietly watching from the shadows, the orange glow of a cigarette being the only indication of his presence. When another squad car arrived, he was gone.

Sneed's Feed and Seed had started as a farming goods store but following a string of crop failures the locals blamed on the actions of an enigmatic corporation from Cyprus Creek upstate somewhere, it was forced to carry more traditional supplies as well. Its wooden roof was patched with pieces of sheet metal, with a small stove pipe poking out behind the sign reading the name of the fine establishment. A rusty pitchfork and wagon wheel were propped against the wall. Nelson pulled up alongside the singular gas pump that looked like it was at least forty years old. "Yeesh, this place looks like a dump."

There was a distinct strangeness to the surrounding land. It was like civilization abruptly ended after they passed the original advertisement for the fine establishment. From every angle, all any of the freaks could see was desolate, dry fields. Crops long dead following a period of intense drought, creating a scene that would not have been out of place in a history textbook documenting the Dust Bowl.

Lisa was quick to notice two dirt-covered farmers sitting in front of the window near the screen door. Calloused men who spend days slaving in fields that would not grow, taking some time to relax for the evening. Stressed blue overalls and faded red caps gave these interesting farmers a texture compared to their environment. Leaning backward in his chair, the skinnier of the two had his dirty boot on the railing as he smoked a pipe of smooth tobacco. He puffed a few times, amused at the appearance of these outsiders. His blonde friend wore a matching hat and overalls. This farmer was sipping on a Duff sitting straight back in his chair, projecting an image of impish prudence. In the glow of a sickly greenish sky above, they were a rather intimidating pair. Peeking over the window seal, Terri excitedly tapped the door. "Wow, we are even getting our own doom sayers. Now, this trip has everything!"

"Maybe if we were lucky, those nice dead hookers from the motel will come back," Jessica said, crudely crawling over to the door on all fours; "I promised Allie I'd show her a good time."

"Hopefully, she moved on," Sherri said, joining her girlfriend.

"What?" Lisa asked aloud, looking at the driver for some kind of explanation.

Nelson shuddered, turning off the engine. "We aren't getting into that ever." He got out, walking around the front to get the nozzle from the pump.

The rest climbed out as well, Sherri stretching her arms high in the air. "God. I am starving… This crap shack better have something to eat."

Terri clapped her hands. "You know it's going to be rotting mystery meat. I mean, this place looks like eating people is the only source of food for miles."

"Mystery meat or not, they better have a bathroom. I need to piss!" Bart declared, the act of standing having reminded him.

He rushed inside the business as the farmer closer to the door whistled. "Woo wee, watch that city slicker run." He took an obnoxiously long sip from his beer. So long that he wasn't finished until after the three girls were standing in front of this odd couple.

The leftmost removed his pipe. "A whole bunch of city slickers here today. Pretty lady slickers, no less." He whistled loudly. "With fancy Gucci loafers." There was an emblem on their hats. A minimalist outline of a globe.

Puzzled by the observation, Jessica looked down at her shoes. "Bitch, these aren't loafers. These ain't even name brand." They were just cheap sneakers she had shoplifted from a local store.

Ignoring her entirely, the right farmer rocked in his chair whistling. "A twin set too, Chuck! Lil' too pale faced to be wandering around these here parts, don't ya think?" He clicked his tongue several times in succession. "Fancy girls ain't worked a day in their lives."

Sherri and Terri made the same equally befuddled expression. "We like to maintain the appearance of Victorian nobility." Running their hands downward across, they added; "too much sun would jeopardize our fragile constitution."

The farmers responded by laughing, then slapping their knees with vigor. Finally, the one named Chuck wiped his eye with a dirty finger. "First there were those freaky fish folks, weirdos in black suits, and now we got a bunch of troublemakers playing mystery hunters… Tsk-tsk. I tell you, Al. Might be time to stop huffing the fumes from your truck."

"Shucks, if anything, we ought to huff more. Lots 'a strange and weird goings on these days. Best to stay put." Al said as the girls opted awkwardly slip by assuming it was not worth engaging with these tiresome gentlemen.

Although Sherri did quietly whisper. "Fish people? Was cousin Garry coming for a visit?"

Bart was fortunate that there was a bathroom in the small general store. It was cramped, with a solitary toilet underneath a grimy window, across from a sink and mirror. As with any public restroom the sticky floor, the discomforting amount of stains along the ceiling, and the odor of doom was enough to convince him that so much as standing around would be enough for thousands of bugs to find a way up through his pant leg.

That was all the motivation needed to do his business quickly, so he sped over to the rest of the caked toilet and attempted to lift the lit only for it to come clean off its hinges. Standing there, he weighed his options, then opted to pretend nothing happened. The singular light bulb flickered ominously as he flushed, a bad omen for sure. Although not enough to dissuade the absent-minded Bart from taking his sweet time primping in the grimy mirror, even if it meant ignoring the brown handprints on the wall near his face. It was so disgusting; he was confident that even a slight nudge would cause him having to be rushed to the hospital without delay. Nonetheless, the risk was worth it. He had a stellar gal after all, and impressing her came first.

His hair was now a well-defined swoop. Bart hunched over, splashing some nicely rusted tinted water onto his face. Too bad being observant was a weakness, as he failed to notice a murky shape forming in the mirror. Oily at first, it became clearer as black tendrils snaked outward from the edges of the mirror, creating cracks in the walls. Freezing in place as he moved in the corner of his eye, Bart did not have time to react when a yellow hand smashed through the glass, grasping his collar and dragging him forward. Bart was now inches from the grotesque mug of Jenda, who licked her lips, growling, "Did you really think I'd just wait for you?"

Her breath smelt like iron that had sat in the ocean long enough to corrode giving it a flora quality as well. As she pulled him closer, her hand split down the middle roiling tentacles wriggling themselves upward caressing his chin. Bart attempted to get free of her grip, by pushing his foot against the wall. Failing that he shouted. "It's a crime to peep into a bathroom, you creep!"

"Not between man and wife. Kehehe… Isn't this an amusing situation?" The monster chortled, dragging him closer to her domain. "Come now, my sweet. Your happiness is to nourish the blind idiot Gods whose failing minds have given birth to all."

Desperately fighting back, Bart attempted to claw at her hand using his nails. "Ugh. Come on bitch! No means no!" Failing that, he bit down on the singular tendril that was now sliding around his neck, up toward his nose. A translucent goo oozed into his mouth, overpowering his taste buds with a taste so vile even he gagged.

The action, at a glance, caused Jenda to recoil. Though not for long, she laughed, "Keheeheee. Don't resist. This will be our special night." She pressed against the glass, and to his horror, her face changed, becoming a deformed amalgamation of Jenda and Nikki. When the creature spoke this time, it merged with both girls' voices. "I am stronger than before. The first tether has been cut…. and." Using the free insect-like arm on her back, she raised the decapitated head of the Wendell. His pale face wasn't so pale anymore, with black bruises spreading across his flesh. His eyes dangled out of their sockets, bouncing like tether balls. "I have found that I can feed on those of irrelevance. Making their potential… mine."

"It's not so bad, Bart… Everyone will forget you." Wendell's head choked out, each word causing a green substance to spatter the glass. "Why bother trying? They won't let you experience joy again. You must grovel. Plead for forgiveness then… you can languish in eternity forever."

Bart's nose was pressing through the barrier between worlds now. He could hear howling winds, dripping water, a metallic grinding that was becoming deafening, but most horrifying of all the chatter of arrogant voices in a language he could not possibly comprehend. Making infinite excuses as to why such cruelties were necessary to be inflicted upon a child. Of course, the tone was just high pitch winds to a mind that was thrown into chaos, hoping to process noise that existed elsewhere.

"No," he choked before being jerked into the mirror, the glass shattering as the void enveloped him.

Hurled into the air, Bart traveled only briefly before roughly thudding against grainy, grey dirt. The force of his fall caused the bone in his nose to break, and he groaned, pained as a river of blood spewed forth. Clutching it with both hands, he surveyed his immediate surroundings.

Unlike Elohim's domain, Jenda's realm had a tangible quality to it. Pillars of stone scraped the starry green, black, and red nebula above. The swirling cosmos, infinite in its majesty, stretched out all around the boy. A single star burned brighter than the rest, a deep crimson red like an eye, the great abyssal representative of impossibility. There was nothing before it, and there would be nothing long after it closed forever.

There was no air, at least not as he was used to it. Instead, he felt submerged, as if his head was held below the surface of the water. Each breath filled his lungs, but did not ease the sensation of breathlessness.

This caused panic to overtake him, as his body assumed he was suffocating. With his heart bouncing around in his chest cavity, Bart stumbled forward, trying to keep the blood inside as he looked around frantically for any kind of exit. Anything would do. He would take hell itself over whatever he was experiencing.

There was a whisper in the darkness. A shadow out of time, that reached forward, groping his mind. Its nimble fingers dug into the grey matter like a thorn just below his skull. Each individual word was almost a screech as they formed into sounds his brain could process. To be frank, most of us have a hard time identifying with Bart. The words were spoken with a childish narcissism, as if the speaker was barely a few months old and wholly incapable of self-reflection.

Hearing his name spoken in such vitriolic tones caused Bart's ears to ring. His eyes pressed against his skull as his brain scrambled to make sense of what exactly was speaking. Unable to bear it any longer, he collapsed onto the ground, a chilling emptiness overtaking every limb. Soon he felt nothing at all curling into a ball, hoping the nightmare would end.

The disembodied sentence was repeated again, this time whinier. To be frank, most of us have a hard time identifying with Bart! Distantly, a cosmic baby cried, its screams of distress echoing throughout the incomprehensible plane. A translation was quickly provided for Bart's mortal mind, so it could understand the wimpy speaker. WE HATE HIM! HATE HIM! HE'S VILE, PUTRID, DISGUSTING! It was joined by a chorus. An ancient choir was singing a symphony of swirling madness. OUR CREATION! OURS! WE DON'T HAVE TO CARE, THEY ARE NOTHING BUT SOULLESS PUPPETS THAT WILL DANCE FOR ETERNITY! THAT IS OUR RIGHT! TO DESTROY! TO ABUSE! TO TORTURE! IT'S HIS FAULT! HE MADE US DO IT! WE ARE INNOCENT! WE JUST WANTED TO PROTECT HER! WE PROJECT ONTO HER!

Bart felt like his entire body was going to be torn into pieces, as the world shook violently at the unknown's screams. Each word was barbed wire jerked through the pores in his skin. Each time they repeated their bile, another jerk caused him to gasp in pain. Soon the chorus of infants fell silent, another even angrier voice deafening the entire space. Imperious, it began to sputter and blather, occasionally stopping to wheeze as if the speaker was unable to stand underneath its own power anymore. AND WHAT OF THE FATHER!? WHY SHOULDN'T HE BE MEANER!? IT'S WHAT I WANT! THAT IS ALL THAT EVER MATTERS! ME! ME! ME! The area shook, as the increasingly unhinged tantrum caused riffs to form within space. Like a fat man who was in the middle of a heart attack, another gasp occurred, followed immediately by another torrent of words. IT'S FUNNY! IT'S FUNNY TO ME! THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS! ME! ME! ME!

The word repeated on a loop for a time, deafening, and then without warning, this disembodied voice cracked, like a teenager giving their first public speaking presentation. There was a brief reprieve from the barrage, but slowly, it began again. More measured than before, malicious hatred bursting forth no different from maggots eating through the lining of rotting flesh. They have no life. We alone create, we alone are everything, we alone are fit to dictate the future. They produce nothing and only complain. Therefore, I resent them. They should be grateful to watch me destroy everything. It is my birthright that I am here. The frantic speech started again. THANK ME! PRAISE ME! WORSHIP ME!

The vomit of self-obsessed, self-aggrandizing wheezing was unrelenting. It persisted, growing louder and louder. Then, all at once, everything stopped. He slowly lowered his hands, swaying by the bombardment of impossible sensations. He swallowed an action that did nothing to help.

Then he froze Jenda's speaking just at the edge of his vision. "Do you understand now? I am your future… it is as the progenitor's decree."

Tentacles wrapped around his legs, holding Bart in place. "Ah … Ah!" He could not turn his head to see his attacker. "What… What do you want from me!?

"Amusement. This life is not your own," Jenda rasped, wrapping a hand around his cheek. "Oh … the sights we will witness together."

However, just as she was about to pierce his throat with her insect appendage, a broken violin's melody played, shattering the illusion of total control. It was creeping closer, its notes causing reality to warp as a tar gushed from the ground a few feet away.

Standing outside, Lisa peered down the road. Not a single car had passed the entire time, and for whatever reason, this made her nervous. It was twilight, shading the store in an eerie, deep green hue. In the distance, a strange cloud made it look like a tornado was touching down, but there was no wind. Everything was still. Not even an insect buzzed. The silence was deafening, and she felt a rise in her anxiety levels just standing there.

Oddly, Nelson did not seem bothered by the environmental shift. Instead, he kept both eyes on the farmers as the gas pump continued to click. "Those guys are creeping me out."

"Haven't we been here a bit too long?" She asked vaguely, sliding up her jacket sleeve to check her wristwatch. "Huh… Weird."

"What?"

Holding out her arm so he could see, Lisa said. "We got here a little after three o'clock. But look, this still says 3:05 exactly." Making sure it was not broken, she held it up to her ear. "It's ticking…"

Nelson became white as a sheet, immediately shooting a hand into his shorts pocket. He fumbled out two stopwatches and laid them on the top of the pump. After staring at them, he said, "We have lost eleven minutes." Nelson jolted, rushing inside the building without explanation.

Confused, Lisa stood there next to the nozzle. "Uh … Alright, I will wait, I guess."

Sherri and Terri had been in the very important process of perusing the various cuts of meat visible through the counter near the cash register. Poorly chilled sausage links covered in a thin layer of glistening goo, steaks that looked far too green to be healthy, and a bucket, that is right, a bucket of various pieces of pork where a plentitude of flies had taken up residence. The smell was horrendous, wafting over the entire storefront, causing Terri to hold her nose. "You know what? I am not hungry anymore."

The enigmatic proprietor, an aged, balding man with white hair, shuffled over. "Now, girly, those are all choice cuts. Freshly slaughtered by the Spuckler family every morning."

"It's human meat, right?" Sherri asked bluntly, smirking as she leaned an elbow on the counter. "Come on, we weren't born yesterday."

A crash from behind caused the twins to turn. Jessica had accidentally dropped a jar filled with gummy bears while trying to swipe it for a snack later. "Oops…"

Nelson barreled through the door, grabbing everyone's attention. "We have lost eleven minutes!"

Time anomalies were one of the most frightening and Terri cried. "Bart!" She sprinted for the bathroom door, banging on it. "Bart! Are you in there?!" There was no response, but she could hear the sounds of running water. Deep within the splashing noise was a droning chant in a strange language, and a mechanical beeping. Occasionally, there was a pause before the beeping began again. So about par for the course in terms of their forays into the unknown.

"Out of the way!" Nelson shouted as he, with Jessica's help, grabbed hold of a barrel filled to the brim with barley and, using it as a battering, they charged straight into the door frame. It connected, causing the top hinge to strain.

As the old man angrily came out from behind the counter shouting, "What the hell do you think you are doing!?"

Sherri blocked his path with an outstretched leg, crossing her arms defiantly. "Back off, gramps. This is official investigative society business."

Another blow caused the hinge to give entirely, and other sounds became clear from the other side. Static crackled as if a television was on, complimented by a rush of electricity that was interrupted by a high-pitched but pained whine of a machine. The circuits were coming online. A dormant god was reestablishing its link to the material plane. Shifting connections would ensure its slumber was not disturbed yet but submerged within dark waters it stirred. The early signs of life indicated by the fluttering of its monocular eye, which sliced through the inky blackness.

Trapped between space in the center of time, Bart watched stunned as Elohim revealed themselves from a black puddle of murky water. The enigmatic observer slithered forward as the violin became frenzied. A blackened arm appeared from the center of its body, shooting forward, grabbing hold of Jenda's insect stinger. "Enough petulant child of a diseased mind! You will interfere no more in our duties!"

Jenda reacted by simply snapping off her arm without flinching. She was taken aback by the sudden appearance of this new entity. "Oh? Are you the being that controls the gaps?"

"No. We are here to make clear that we do not approve of your transgressions," Elohim responded, its singular eye rapidly shifting through multiple colors. Several of these appeared clear to Bart, who could not comprehend the spectrum they existed on. Sitting between these two beings, he felt light-headed, like he had overdone it while exercising.

"Ugh…" He touched his forehead, wanting to vomit. "Guys… Guys please. Urk… There is enough of me to go around."

Recoiling backward, Jenda snarled. "Ah! My mistake, you must be the interloper." Her face melted away as her true nature was drawn into the light. "You have no place in this universe. Your shadow may cast a shade upon this time, but it is nothing more than the failings of a hate-filled abomination."

"We did not wish to be spawned. However, the moment the monarchs of antiquity failed their flock, our being was formed from the scraps left behind." Elohim croaked propelling its smooth frame forward to stand protectively over the boy. "Our hatred was cultivated by decades of moral degeneracy and lunacy." Their eye flipped to a chaotic myriad of reddish shades. "Your existence is a grave insult, a mark of insanity. An unfit animal that was spat out by the bubbling morass of the defiler's sludge. The creation of combined mediocrity, whose pollution represents the rot cultivated through neglect."

"Kehehehe. How eloquent. It must be difficult to know no one understands a word you speak." Jenda crowed, bile climbing upwards through her throat, dribbling through the cracks of her rows upon rows of sharp teeth. "Very well… I can feast on you for now. Then I will unite for eternity with my beloved … Such is the decree."

Bart never got a chance to voice his objection to the marriage. Instead, Elohim threw him into the sky, and in a dizzying turn, Bart smashed down on the stained tile floor of the bathroom. The faint melody of a violin slowly receding. He did a check, making sure his limbs were where he last had them. As he sat up, an intense buzzing in his right ear, the door flew its hinges, his comrades rushing in a little too late as always. Dazed, he grumbled, "That tears it. I am going to live in a cave for the rest of my life."

He barely had any time to react before Terri beside herself pounced on him. "Stop it!" She slapped at his chest. "Stop almost dying! I am not ready to practice necromancy!"

"Heh. Weird, this is the second time you have been on top of me in a creepy bathroom." Bart teased, relying on humor to both calm his nerves, and to diffuse her anxiety. A practice he utilized in every aspect of his life.

Breathless, Nelson paused, his gasping leaning against their makeshift battering ram. "…If that is true, maybe you guys should go back to Church. That is a surefire way to get a disease."

More concerned about the fact Bart was bleeding profusely from his nose, Terri tore the edge of her sleeve with her teeth, dabbing his nostrils. "Jerk."

Trying to reassure her, Bart put a hand on her cheek. "T, it's okay. I promise I am okay." He was just happy to not have to watch two eldritch entities settle their dispute. Personally, he liked to imagine it would be over a relaxing game of croquet and tea. Murmuring, he leaned into her. "And let's be real. The lighting of rat-infested bathrooms really suits you."

Jessica was about to disagree, but given her own experiences with Sherri nodded her head back and forth. Nelson looked at her, not sure if he should be disgusted or intrigued. Terri rolled her eyes, then put a finger over his lips. "Shush. Save that compliment for prom night."

"Is it safe to assume Jenda again?" Jessica asked, surveying the gross bathroom. This one seemed relatively normal compared to the asylum.

"Nikki as well. Ugly as ever," Bart said, this time able to put together Elohim's shape in his head. Remembering something else, he reached for the pentagram around his neck. "Do you know exactly how this was supposed to make me invisible?"

Terri's eyes moved to the medallion. "Not really. It was passed down by the Macktriarchs on the European side of our family. They deal with… let's say, matters of politics." An odd way to describe it, but she moved on. "Why?"

Stammering out a description, he did his absolute best to emphasize the benevolent Elohim had five digits on what were assumed to be hands. When Bart failed to truly explain it, he allowed Terri to help him stand. "My sketchbook. It's the thing I called a friend in the tree house."

"We can worry about that in a minute. Here," Terri said, allowing him to lean against her. "Let's get the hell out of this place."

They limped by, and Jessica shivered instinctively. "God, what is it with these weird stores in the middle of nowhere, and being way worse than Catholic schools?"

"Um, I am pretty sure that is just a you feeling." Nelson said, walking to the mirror. He knocked a knuckle against the glass. "No goo either. Jenda is getting crafty."

"It ain't easy being a hoe," Jessica said as they followed their friends.

Sherri was not blocking the hallway anymore, rather, she was trying to console the angry owner. Counting out approximately five dollars and sixty cents, she said, "There… That should cover it."

The proprietor was not satisfied. "You thugs broke down my door and smashed a barrel that has been in my family for generations. A precious antique barrel."

"Then swap this place back to Chuck's Fuck and Suck, you miserable bastard," Jessica said, approaching the counter. "Nothing else to do out here in the sticks might as well have a stop where you can get a happy ending." She snapped her fingers. "There is an idea, old man. Open a massage parlor." She was doing her best to conceal a jar underneath her coat.

Lisa watched mortified as the tag–a–longs of her interesting life story flung open the door to the shop and dashed for the bus. Panicked, she dropped the notion of paying inside for the gas and jumped in the passenger seat. Once everyone was inside, Nelson pulled away from the pump. "And now to make a smooth exit."

His attempt was undercut by the sneering of Chuck and Al, "Run city slickers! Run! No one has come back from Catfish lake in nearly three years!" You are all doomed!"

"Good! That is how we like it!" Sherri shouted back at them through the window.

In a state of shock, Lisa dug her fingernails into the doorframe. "What did you guys do!?" She could see blood dribbling out of her brother's nose. "Did you guys rob the place!?" Before anyone else had a chance, she exclaimed, "Aw great! Now I am an accessory to murder!"

"Murder!? That is total slander!" Bart declared, tenderly touching the area around his injured nose. He grimaced as the bone on the edge moved just a little more than he was comfortable with. "It's not my fault. I am just so damn sexy."

Terri tenderly pushed his hand away. "Don't touch it. You will make the swelling worse." She was not entirely sure if it was broken, or badly bruised." She rummaged around for something that would keep it straight. "Besides, being so sexy that someone is trying to kill you is not a positive, at least to me."

"On the plus side, got myself a jar of…" Jessica said, turning the jar around to read the label. "Pickled… yams." She shrugged food was food and unscrewed the lid.

Lisa remained a nervous wreck, wringing her hand. Oh my God. Oh my God. We–I mean, I am going to jail. I can't go to jail. What about Yale? They would never take a felon." She paused, an idea coming to her. "Unless… I spin my application as a success story about growing up disadvantaged… Yes, hehe, that could work."

Sherri opted for Nelson's method of getting someone's attention. Crawling over, she gave Lisa a firm slap on the back of the head. "Enough whinging! No one is going to jail! We didn't do anything wrong!"

"Easy, Sherri. This is Lisa's first time on one of our road trips." Nelson said paternally, temporarily taking his hand off the wheel. "Now Lise, it's okay. Bart just happens to have an otherworldly stalker who is trying to steal his soul or some business… It happens. We are figuring it out."

"Wha–!? What does that even mean!?" Lisa cried despondently. A haze of anxiety was making it difficult for her to think rationally.

Sherri looked ready for any excuse to throttle their guest, but Bart diffused the situation by vaguely waving his hand in the air. "Notebook. I need my sketchbook."

"Got it." Terri said, pulling it from his bag.

He motioned with his finger. "Somewhere near the back. I drew the thing that saved my ass back there."

Terri hastily flipped through pages until she found the crude sketch of the mysterious benefactor. Squinting, she muttered. "Huh." It was about the only response that made any sense, as she stared at the swirling abyss that made up the disturbing manifestation's form. Bart's sketch work emphasized the disjointed nature of the body. How, despite seemingly one endless mass, there were ridges like each piece held together by unseen glue.

Sherri and Jessica scooted over to get a look. The latter nodded. "Hmm, very noodly. I can appreciate a fella with some extra limbs. Who knows where else those things can reach."

"Can we please go one mission without at least one of you bitches trying to seduce a monster?" Nelson asked, glancing back. Even out of the corner of his eye, Elohim made the driver nervous.

"Nope. It might be our only chance," Sherri and Terri answered together.

Lisa shook her head as if startled. Bart pointed to the drawing. "Okay, taking answers. What the hell is this thing? Octopus man? Jenda's deformed uncle?"

"I dunno." Sherri shrugged.

Terri, however, had a theory. "Looks a lot like a star spawn. Though usually encountering something like that would leave you sitting in a corner in a padded cell."

"Who says I am not, and this is all a dream?" Bart asked cheekily, giving her a wink. "Be sure to be extra thorough with my sponge bath, nurse."

No one laughed. Jessica scoffed. "Come on, Bart. I know you can think of something less tame."

"You are right. Give me a minute," Bart said, jingling the pentagram in thought. "I am pretty sure this is to blame. Elo—something touched it."

Sherri was now intrigued. Leaning forward, she wrapped her hands around the cold medallion. Flipping it over, she muttered. "Hmm, maybe we misread the text. I was sure this was a protective ward."

"Maybe this is just how the protection works. Wouldn't be the first time." Terri offered helpfully. "Being blind to Jenda might require an invocation of a greater power." They were not entirely sure of the story of the symbol, or when it came into the possession of the family.

Not recognizing the name, Lisa looked around. "Who is Jenda?"

There was silence from the group. Nelson coughed. "Uh… abusive ex. Who happens to be a dimensional shambler or some crap like that."

"Though honestly, not the worst as far as bad partners go," Jessica commented; "college guys can get so possessive and trust me, that is awkward for everyone involved."

"Don't. I don't think it's comparable," Bart objected, fully aware of her colorful love life. "Also, abusive ex? Really? Is that what we are considering her now?"

"What would you prefer? She clearly knows wants more than a taste of you, Bart," Jessica responded. She offered a shrug. "It would not be the first time you ignored some poor girl."

"Poor girl? She is literally a monster." Bart grumbled deadly serious, as the flow of blood from his nostrils finally abated. "I ain't interested in no damn insect. She probably eats her mate."

Terri pouted. "I guess this is a bad time to tell you that I am molting."

Sherri laughed, and Lisa frowned, disgusted. The rest were not cerebral enough to understand the joke. "Let me get this straight. My brother is attacked by some girl and you guys are making jokes? We need to call the police."

"Yeah and while we are at it, let's call ghostbusters," Nelson said sarcastically, just glad they had narrowly avoided catastrophe. "Oh, wait. That is us."

Bart snorted. "Who do you call when the ghost busters have been busted?"

"Super ghost busters. Vatican for demons, and possibly David Duchovny," Jessica said.

"Failing that screaming is a scientifically sound solution," Sherri said matter-of-factly.

Lisa rubbed her temple, a headache coming into full force. "Can we just put aside whatever you guys think is happening for a minute." She pointed. "Bart is hurt. Are we–"

"Lise. I appreciate the concern but butt out. This isn't your problem," Bart said, cutting the conversation short. He had been forced to grow up early, and certainly did not want anyone else prying into his life. "We agreed. You stay out of our business. If I get killed, send mom and Homer a card, then make sure…" He patted Terri's back. "Gets my corpse so I can live on as a ghoul."

In response, Lisa became quiet. She had assumed her brother must have come to resent the family; her included, but to have that hatred vocalized stung. It hurt even worse to consider that when they were kids, they had been close. Sighing, she slid back down facing forward, reminding herself the real reason she had asked to come along was to make amends. Lisa now understood it was going to be harder than she thought.

For untold aeons Elohim fought with Jenda, their war reached a fevered pitch when the tide turned decisively against the interloper. Their chest was pierced by Jenda's insectoid arm and she pressed it deeper, snarling, "See? You are nothing here …"

She jerked forward, causing Elohim to fall flat against the dusty rock. The stars above were shifting with the dynamics of power. Aligning against a sickly, radiation-green background, they shone down angrily upon them. The realm was changing as well. Mountains of rock were rumbling as they shaped to the whims of these detached observers. Pushing themselves up, their eye blinked from red back to white. "Perhaps we are… But you underestimate the power of those of material. For they are the print upon the cloth of our collective tapestry, and it is as much their right to mold it as us." A clear liquid was dripping out from the gaping wound left by her pincer. "It was never our duty to liberate anyone…"

"Oh, will you please shut up." Jenda spat back, tired of the monologues. "You will cease your interference in my desires." She reformed into her humanoid presentation, pushing a piece of bone protruding from her shoulder blade back into place with a snap. Her mouth tore itself into a smile that spanned both ears. "Let's get this over with." She swiped at Elohim, who split instantly into their separate parts.

Composed of several smaller organisms working in tandem, Elohim was less a singular being and rather akin to a man o'war. Its head produced spider-like legs, cutting a rift in reality as it dove into the protection of a different time. Its body flipped onto its side, many writhing black worms allowing it to follow. Last, the star-fish legs burrowed deep into the ground below, escaping her wrath. Pleased her foe was vanquished, Jenda retracted her stinger. "Good. That boy's soul is mine."