Pre-teen Charles Lee Ray sat eating Frute Brute in the kitchen nook of Ivan Burton's Lakeshore manor, all kidded up and ready for the kid flashback. The Banana Splits were playing on the tv next to him, most if not all the shadow men were out, and Burton had gone into the cellar dungeon some time ago -so it seemed like he would have the whole floor to himself. This was about a year and a half after Burton took him in, so he hasn't laid into him just yet -still in the grooming phase. Still, life was good as the young boy thought. He hadn't killed since that day, but he got plenty of visual learning from his multitude of housemates.
He knew something was up when the sunlight coming through the windows suddenly disappeared and the whole interior of the mansion and outside was dimmed. It was the middle of the day, so that could only mean one thing -the Deacon was casting spells. The thunder claps growing in volume and succession confirmed this. Chucky slurped down the fruity milk left in his bowl before pushing himself out of the booth. If Burton really wanted him out, then he wouldn't have locked the door, right?
It seemed wrong that the stairs going down didn't have torch sconces on either side. As Chucky continued down, the ever familiar recitation of the soul transfer chant grew louder. Thought at this point in the time, the Haitian Creole words may as well just be gibberish to him. All Chucky knew at that point was there was something called Damballa and it could make everything better. The torture and ritual chamber was having one of its cleaner days. Two of the three prisoners kept down there were alive. The only dead man in the room was vivisected from where he was shackled with his organs adorning an altar near by. The other was passed out next to him in shackles of his own. The third one, a woman, gave the young Charles a begging stare as he walked by her with a blank stare. Her eventual appeals for help fell on deaf ears.
Burton was in the second room beyond them. Chucky could hear him wrapping up a chant of some sort. The wind whistling around the mansions triplet chimneys and thunder clapping above the roof grew louder. The Deacon had the hood of his black robe pulled over his head as Chucky could see he was not alone. Two shadow men lay next to each other on the makeshift voodoo altar with Burton's palms closed around their craniums.
"Endelieu pour de boisette Damballa!" the super-killer gripped their heads hard as he threw his head back like a bolt was going through him, raising his voice as it echoed throughout his dungeon. "Endelieu pour de boisette Damballa! Endelieu pour de boisette Damballa" He abruptly removed his hands from his minions, but kept them raised above his head as if he just delivered a sermon -in a way he kind of did. To him, the best part of casting spells and doing magic was communing with the god he borrowed them from. Outside, everything abruptly returned to normal with the wind dying out and the thunder subsiding. The room quaked and shook as the Deacon closed his eyes in bliss before everything went still. "You can come out, little one, I heard you coming down."
"Sorry...sir. I heard you and thought...well...magic. I wanted to see."
"No need to be sorry. You're about to witness a lost chapter in Damballa's creation. Come closer." Burton seemed unnaturally excited.
Chucky did as his master asked. He could see one of the shadow men on the altar begin to stir. The other remained as still as a corpse. In fact, he didn't look to be breathing at all. The moving shadow man's head lolled from side to side as he moaned back into consciousness. Burton placed an arm around Chucky and began monologuing like a teacher.
"The soul is an incredibly powerful thing, little one -the immortal essence of life itself. It's our bodies that keep us from life everlasting. Damballa remedies this by giving us the ability to have multiple bodies. But, recently, I collected a tome that dared to ask 'what if a vessel or someone were to have more than one soul and could such a thing exist?' An ancient tribe of Haitians that followed Damballa used his blessing when they bred to create voodoo warriors of increased strength far beyond that of normal men. What they did defied all limits of His magic. They called these warriors 'Dualities' because they often possessed secondary souls. From where they came from, only Damballa knows. While the validity of this account is questionable, I believe Duality can be achieved through our own means...but I have to be sure."
Chucky had been told about the classic soul transfer spell, but never seen it in action. How Burton applied it here was self-explanatory. The shadow man that was moving remained laying down but brought a hand to his head. "D-did it work, De-"
He suddenly grasped his chest and start violently rattling in his throat. Deacon Burton pulled Chucky away and continued observing with a raised eyebrow. The shadow man violently banged the back of his head against the altar as he began screaming which left a small bloody crater as his skull began to break. Chucky could swear that there was another man screaming in the room because there was a completely different cry of pain, but it was coming from the shadow man who had been screaming that whole time. he found himself unable to look away as the shadow man's chest began to swell before exploding like a balloon. The force sent the body up a couple of feet as organs like the heart and a lung flew from the chest cavity.
It crashed back down in a crumpled bloody mess on the altar in that same instant. The motionless body that lay next to it rolled off and broke its face on the floor, but no one was paying attention to it. The lifeless head of the shadow man hung over the altar and seemed to stare directly at Chucky as blood leaked down from its agape mouth. The organs and viscera debris hit the floor with a spongy squish. Chucky held back his gasps with kinked eyebrows while Burton was unimpressed, he had gotten blood thrown over his cloak and face.
"As I said, souls are incredibly powerful. In the case of something like a Duality, I guess they can't just be any souls. Perhaps in order to make one, I'll need more voodoo-tempered ones."
"Where would you find souls like that?" Chucky asked.
"I haven't the slightest clue yet. I'm not even sure if such souls can be found. But, I won't stop looking. Something like a Duality just might be crazy enough to exist."
Glen was doing his eye twitch even as he shakingly wiped his dad's blood from his face for the second time in his life. Tiffany had really gotten the brunt of it. Her entire face got a splash when Shauna crushed Chucky's head to smithereens. Shauna seemed to be the only one of the group not in a stupor as she awkwardly stepped out of his brains. It coated her shoes and she scraped it off like dog shit.
"Yeah...this is good. This is what he wanted," Ozzy broke the ice, the Rays weren't going to say anything, he had to raise his voice on account of the horde of possessed Good Guys trying to break in, "This is step one completed. Now, we just need...oh, sweet!"
He hadn't taken his eyes off the mess of gore that used to be Chucky's head. Underneath a piece of his scalp, he found one of his eyes, he couldn't miss those baby blues. The second one had rolled toward the wall, narrowly avoiding getting stomped to jelly by Shauna. Ozzy scooped them up like marbles. He used to pull eyes off his stuffed animals as a child and tried his best to think of Chucky's as just like them despite everything. No luck, they had the exact same firm squishy texture as regular eyeballs, just much smaller.
"Oh fuck me, this is gross...Tiffany, here. You can-" Ozzy offered the eyes up awkwardly to his next best line of defense. Tiffany's deadpan gaze from her husband's corpse shifted over to him -mouth tightened, eyebrow raised, and doing everything not to scratch his eyes out. "Ok, maybe not..." Ozzy read her, "Glen-" he got his answer from Chucky's son just by looking at him, eye twitching continuing as he glanced at him, "Glenda-" his twin was now sitting on the floor of the Play Pal doll lab drawing pictures with her dad's blood, it was a sun with sunglasses. Ozzy wasn't going to try, "Lottie..." The youngest Ray had moved aside to avoid getting a face full of her dad's exploding head. She had been starting with her hands over her mouth for a good while before coming back to reality. She gave Ozzy a read-the-room look, as best as it can be described.
"Alright..." Ozzy placed Chucky's eyes in his front button-down pocket, shuddering as he felt them slide to the bottom against his chest. A damp spot of blood and eye fluid began to form in the pit of his pocket and stain his chest area, "Wonderful...just settles right in."
"Is there a time limit for doing this? Like, can we take too long and lose Chucky forever?" Shauna asked.
"No,' Tiffany finally spoke, "As long as we complete his body he should come back like he always does." She pushed herself off the table and took off her jacket and, after using it to wipe the blood from her face, laid it out over Chucky's dead headless body. She also tore her now red and white dress down the side to give her more leg room, she knew she was going to have to start being much, much more mobile. "Until then, everyone needs to do what I say."
There was a chorus of garbled introductions and laughter from the other side of the barricade followed by a crushing sound against it louder than the rest. They were growing more organized and charging at the door in sync. It would be minutes before they breached the lab. Shauna was back in front of it with the fire axe. "So, we're going to run. But, where to?"
"I-I remember seeing the building directory when they dragged us in," Glen had recomposed himself and stood beside his mother, his eye was steady but his brow occasionally shook, "There's a doll workshop on the floor just below the one we were taken to. We could find a body there."
"Really nowhere to go but up when you think about it," Shauna said, "How exactly are we going to handle-"
A loud clattering sound made everyone jump. It was the old grate on the far most wall of the lab flying off its hinges. A lone Good Guy pulled itself from the rustic vent like a subterranean goblin creature. He had the worst posture with his head lowered beneath his shoulders like an ape. As was the case with all the shadow men that had been converted into Good Guys, the lights were on but nobody was home.
"Hi! I'm Filbert! And I'm your friend to the end! Hidee-ho! Haha!"
"Fuck off!" Glenda came seemingly out of nowhere and sucker punched the Good Guy, or Filbert, across his smiling blank mug with a blow that would've caused anyone to bleed on impact. Filbert was on the floor and Glenda was trying to rip his head off as she clumsily tried to work her fingers through his plastic neck.
"Hope these assholes can still feel pain if they can't bleed yet!" Tiffany joined the fray whether Glenda wanted it or not, going for Philbert's arms swatting at her daughter. She was itching for some violence herself. The tearing of plastic and fabric sounds as they swarmed him soon gave way to flying fluff in all directions as the two tore at him. Lottie gave Glen a quizzical look.
"Be my guest," he shrugged. Lottie couldn't help but deviously smile a little before assisting in ripping Filbert apart. Ozzy and Shauna just watched on with fascinated squints as the body parts started flying. Glen had his hands behind his back and balanced on and off his heels as they waited for the screaming Rays to finish. Filbert's recorded Good Guy greeting sounded off in a garbled disorientated tone for the last time as Tiffany ripped it out. "I bloody love my family." Glen commented to the couple with a friendly smile, it wasn't sarcasm it was just funny because it was true. He was the black sheep and he knew it.
Glenda had torn off both of Filbert's arms and was chewing on one of his hands with no intention to swallow as she scuttled away from the action on all fours. Lottie ripped out the still sparking battery pack after severing his legs. That left Tiffany. She had Filbert's head in her hands when she turned around to face Ozzy, Shauna, and Glen. Her emerald eyes were unblinking with an intensity that rivaled even that of Chucky's serial killer, thousand-yard stare. You know who was blinking? Filbert. Even after all that the doll was still alive just as a head. He couldn't speak, so he just gave a little plastic smile that seemed to say 'you're all going to die, ha-ha.'
Still blank as her stare, Tiffany drove a couple of her fingers into Filbert's mouth and began pulling his jaw. When it reached its limit, she gripped the top of his mouth with her other hand and pulled harder. Plastic tore and tiny, metal sockets and screws came loose as Tiffany fully ripped it off in one stronger pull before throwing the now mouthless Filbert ahead one way and his jaw the other, not caring where they ended up. What could he possibly do?
Ozzy had a newfound fear for this woman. He was now non ironically debating who would win in a no-holds barred fight between Chucky and his wife. In actuality, Chucky and Tiffany don't throwdown anymore. Years ago, when Tiffany was still Jennifer Tilly, she and Chucky had a fight that looked like the panels of a Ryan Ottley comic. As they were untangling that collective eight feet of intestines that should've been inside both of them for several hours, it was clear that it was a classic case of mutually assured destruction. No one was ever going to win. So, whenever the two serial killer lovebirds felt like gouging each other's eyes out, they just got out the Chinese checkers set. It's just goddamn magical, all the rage and bloodlust just fades away when they move those little colored balls. Sometimes the tv would be on in the background and they wouldn't even be paying attention to it, and Glen or Glenda would turn it off. Then they would demand for it to be turned back on because they were watching it actually. Head canons are precious, hold onto them.
"That, is how we are going to handle them." Some of the fluff from inside Filbert stuck to parts of her that were still wet with her blood as she picked them off. The doll was reduced to a mess of torn clumps of plastic, fabric, and plush on the floor.
"Oooo," Shauna beamed, "I know a chick who's stronger than she's let on this whole time..."
Tiffany went over to Ozzy, which actually caused him to recoil back nervously. He gasped when she held her hands up to him expectingly.
"Oh," Ozzy placed Frick and Frack into her open palms. "Please don't hurt me."
"That depends on whether we get Chucky back," she said, "If we don't stand a chance, I'm not giving the Deacon the luxury." She motioned to Shauna to start removing to the barricade so they could make their b-line. Shauna was up against the nearly breached door once she had thrown everything aside, prepped to use the shaft of the axe for crowd control in a way you're about to read. Glen and Lottie rejoined them alongside Ozzy while Glenda hung back.
"Alright, the moment I open the door, everyone run to the elevator." Shauna bounced on her heels in warm up. She had an axe and heads were going to roll even if it doesn't kill them.
"Glenda, sweetface, can you stay close to your brother and sister so I can see you?" Tiffany faux commanded her. Glenda reared her head that had been seemingly locked face down.
"Sure thing, Tiffany," she gave a phony smile. Glen cringed while Lottie covered her mouth. Tiffany gave her oldest daughter the strangest look as she made her way over to them, not really sure what to feel -hurt, frustration, or concern. When Glenda was at her lowest she always leaned on her family. By now, Tiffany knew something was up.
"Gle-"
"THREE! TWO! ONE! SCRAM!" Shauna threw open the doors in the opposite direction they were meant to go. Fire axe held out in front of her across her chest she charged out with a scream that would give Chucky a run for his money. The horde of more than a dozen Good Guys were like the snow to her plow as she cleared a path out towards the elevator. She had three of the little chupacabras pinned against the wall on the other side of the hallway, pressing the handle of the axe as far as it would go on their necks. It would do no good, they couldn't be choked out yet. Shauna cried out as some of the other ones began clawing and biting at her legs. "NOW!"
Ozzy was naturally the first one out followed by Tiffany and her kids. She did have to hurry Glenda along, who again disturbingly dropped to all fours. On the way out, Glen gracefully slashed the arms off a Good Guy who had a grip on Shauna's leg. Ozzy was able grab another one biting at her by the hair and slammed him on the old floor so hard it cracked before flinging him up to the ceiling. That felt really good, made him look good in front of Shauna too. She, meanwhile, seemed to have stunned the dolls she had pinned which allowed to quickly rejoin the others. The horde gave an in-sync laugh in the usual Good Guy voice clip before flooding the hallway after them. As they neared the elevator alcove, Ozzy decided to give the Acolyte powers another go.
He quickly turned around and pointed his birthmarked wrist like had before in the parking lot. Now would've been the best time for that lighting bolt like before too. Ozzy shook his arm in its sling like a gun that wouldn't work. At this point he was hoping for anything to happen. The mark was illuminating, so he was doing something right. He could hear Shauna screaming his name from behind him. The shadow men Good Guys were no more than 10 yards away when something did happen. The ceiling section just above them collapsed. It was small bits of plaster crumbling at first before a huge section of it came tumbling down on the horde in front of Ozzy. Rotten paint chips and moldy drywall exploded and nearly vaporized in the air. It was a lot of ceiling. The hole it left led up to the floor above and the debris covered nearly the entire hallway, blocking off the way back. There was no dust that needed to clear to see the limbs and heads of the horde sticking out of the mess.
"Fuck yeah! Chucky and the Deacon aren't the only wizards here!" Ozzy was all set to cheer with his arm raised but a scream came out just as one of the Good Guys emerged from the debris and latched onto his shin and bit down on it. "HELP!"
"For crying out loud!" That wasn't Shauna, but Tiffany. The bride tore the Good Guy from Ozzy's shin with Frick and Frack not caring about the flesh it tore away with its teeth. She flung it to the side as more of the possessed dolls began to regroup from the mess. "You have my husband's eyes! I'll be really pissed off if something were to happen to them!"
Ozzy didn't have time to give her a fearful 'yes ma'am.' The Good Guys were sprouting up from the ceiling brought down on them like those weird tadpoles that are born out of their mother frog's back as if it had done no damage at all, and it really didn't. At least it wasn't all of them, some of them seemed to stay down trapped underneath. They were close to the elevator being right next to the alcove, so they didn't have much more to run. Shauna and the Ray kids were already at the doors mashing at the buttons again as Ozzy ran after them with Tiffany in tow. The Good Guy horde was moving faster now, and closer to the two.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Shauna and Chucky's children hurried in while Ozzy scattered into the alcove. His head was in the car when everyone heard Tiffany cry out. The smaller horde had caught up to her just as she could get to the elevator. One of the Good Guys had grabbed her ankle and pulled her to the ground. Almost at once a several hands were on her. Tiffany fought back, slicing at them with Frick and Frack. The two knives may as well have been her hands because she was not letting them go.
"MOM!" Lottie screamed. Instinct made her start forward towards her just as it made Glen grab her in restraint. The elevator doors began closing as Ozzy slipped in to see Tiffany being dragged away as she continued kicking and slicing at them.
"GET CHUCKY! I'LL IMPROVISE!" was Tiffany's parting cry with the group as the doors shut and the car started up. Ozzy and Shauna held each other, catching their breaths and having every intention of listening to Tiffany. Lottie was still shaking in Glen's arms while Glenda was crouched in the corner.
"We-we'll see her again," Glen said, quelling his own shaking, "Mum can be just as fierce if not more than dad. We need to hurry." Lottie refused to leave his arms. To her, she had just gotten her mother back only to lose her just as her dad.
"Her time in Hollywood probably turned her into a bigger psycho than she already was." Ozzy said, "Next stop, doll workshop."
Those that now populated the building had other plans. There was suddenly a series a loud thudding on the roof of the ascending elevator, followed by little patters. Ozzy gasped as Shauna stood in front of him. Glen placed a hand on his sheath tanto's handle, his broken one numbly locked around his little sister. There was an aged layer of plexiglass lights on the ceiling of the car, and just under it according to code was the hatch leading out. The whole elevator then jerked and came to a stop as if the mechanism had been jammed. You're not here for suspense, you're here for action. So, you know that a bunch of possessed Good Guys got into the elevator shaft and are trying to hijack it. No more than five of them tore the panel off the roof and broke through the plexiglass light layer. These ones were armed and carried the daggers they once had in their human lives. Except one of them, who had probably used it to jam up the aforementioned mechanism.
"Wanna play!?" They all exclaimed together and bum rushed everyone in the elevator. Two of them went for Ozzy and Shauna while the other three went for the Ray children.
"You bet your little plastic assholes I do!" Shauna grinned a little too much. She was at her limit at this point with things trying to kill her, it does stuff to a person. She raised the axe above her head like a barbarian and slammed it down on it down on one of the Good Guys' heads -one that had charged her while its partner held back. No one was expecting the dolls to cry out in pain or scream. Shauna didn't need to hear it, she was actually screaming herself. That brought the doll down on its stomach and how hard Shauna hit him caused the elevator to shake and left a gash in its head. Shauna took its momentary stun to hit the other one with a more down ward swing that claimed one of its legs. After their time with the Rays, it was weird to see dolls that didn't bleed they were stabbed, beaten, and all that good stuff. Glen knew he bled and so did his little sister. The three Good Guys had backed them into the corner of the elevator that Glenda was crouching in.
"I'll tag you in, Lottie," Glen said eyeing their daggers as they closed in and pulling his turtle neck over his face, "Glenda...we need you. We always have." He was telling the truth earlier, he was just as good with the tanto with his left hand as he was with his right. Out it came from the sheath over his shoulder and out to his side as he engaged the three spitting images of his father. He had tied his sleeve in a knot over his broken hand to keep any further damage from it. One Good Guy got a slash across the torso as another jabbed with his dagger only to have it meet the tanto in a block. Glen gave it as twist and threw him off balance and took that moment to literally disarm the Good Guy. The dismembered hand with the fingers still locked around the dagger's hilt flew over him and Glen kicked it like a hacky sack over to Lottie. She seemed to instinctively caught it and began prying the fingers off. When Rays gets their hands on a weapon that means their arms are complete.
Lottie took on the Good Guy with the missing hand since Glen had cleared a path for her. The third one had tried to ambush him from behind but Glen went Journey to the West on his ass when he did a look less backwards hip stab like a samurai master. Then he judo flipped him over his shoulder like Godzilla did in the old movies, with only one hand, he had to do most of the work with his back. He got a glimpse of Lottie and it looked like she was struggling. The Good Guy held Lottie's smaller hand on in front of her as she tried to force the dagger on him. Glen understood it at once. Lottie had never killed someone her own size before. It may not look like it, but taking out people is easier because they are bigger targets. When all that is condensed into a matching form, it can be a little more difficult.
Glen was about to assist her but the Good Guy he had flipped was back on him, learning from his mistake. He held Chucky's son in a nelson, forearm around his neck. Glen was able to drive his tanto into one of attacker's shoulders but he wasn't letting go. In front of him, the other Good Guy was approaching dagger in hand and Glen's gut was wide open.
Then, the Good Guy was gone in the next instant after Glenda came flying at him like a blur of red and pink -screaming and roaring as she did. She lunged at the Good Guy with such fury that she seemed to body surf on him as he skidded a little across the floor. Glenda held its shoulders in a vice like grip as the Good Guy snapped its clicking jaws at her at stabbing in the little threshold she set for him. Glenda didn't like that and showed him some real chompers even with a missing tooth. She bared those piranha pearly whites and bite off his nose first, then the brow, then the cheeks, lips, eye lids, everything was going. Glen cringed as he watched this, but the tightening hold the doll still attacking him had him was starting to crush his windpipe. He knew his next move when he could feel the Good Guy's chin on the back of his head. Glen bent his knees nearly to the point of crouching before shooting back up and ramming his head right into the doll man's jaw. That set him free.
"No more Mr. Nice Chap." Glen went Metal Gear Vengeance on him. Horizontal, vertical, diagonal, any slice any direction, the tanto allowed it. With the right speed and strength, the tempered metal could slice through fabric and plastic like paper. The Good Guy was still in the process of putting his hand on Glen's neck by the time he fell apart, quite literally sliced to pieces as his fluff exploded out and fell like snow. Everything below that doll's neck was reduced to a rainbow of shreds. These things seemed a lot like zombies wherein you got to separate the heads from the body to stop them at the very least. The Rays were more than capable of this approach.
Speaking of which, Glenda had ripped the head of the Good Guy she had quite literally chewed the face off of. It's metal skull and eye sockets with its widened plastic eyes emoted that the poor guy had no idea he was being killed, it was all happening so fast. It got even faster when Glenda gripped the head's hair and began twirling it around like a bola. Lottie had got the Good Guy she was taking on down on his stomach and attempted to twist his arm and break it, forgetting for a moment that the bones haven't come in yet. She let out an audible 'shit' before the Good Guy shook her off and was back up. His torso was a Swiss cheese with stabs that had done nothing. Glen had begun his sprint toward them to help his younger sister out, but Glenda beat him to it when she lashed at the Good Guy with the head as a weapon. They clacked loudly together and that brought the doll down once more.
Glenda didn't stop there. She continued beating down the Good Guy on the head with the one she was using until his face was nothing but a scattered mess of what it used to be and heads finally cracked open after striking it each other too many times. When the head she was using broke, she resorted to using her own even though the Good Guy was broken beyond repair. Glenda was shrieking and hollering the entire time. It wasn't exactly clear was those screams that then filled the elevator were -glee, fury, mania, or just straight sorrow. All eyes where on her. Shauna had turned one of the Good Guys she was facing into a Pillow Pet and had just pulled apart the other by the head gash she had left in it. This whole time Ozzy was letting Shauna do all the work. Part of him was unwilling to use his powers in the elevator in fear of bringing it down. Oh don't worry, he's going to get plenty of shots in, believe it or not. Above them in the elevator shaft, he could hear more scurrying and laughing. They echoed all around the hollow shaft to the point they sounded like they were coming from every which where.
"Agh! There's more!" Ozzy cried. Shauna pressed at the buttons behind him.
"We're still not moving!" she added. They had both had to scream over Glenda's wails as she pounded the doll heads against each other to smithereens. She was still pounding away as Lottie worryingly approached her, much to Glen's urging against.
"Glenda..." Against her better judgement, Lottie reach out to touch her big sister in that frenzy she was in. The moment she did, Glenda shrieked once again and whipped around, striking with her nails. You can picture it happening already. Lottie cried out as she fell back, Glen was just in time to catch her like a superhero. It wasn't as bad as it looked. The single scratch was across the bridge of Lottie's nose. What little bleeding did occur was a thin stream down either side. Glen placed his sleeve covered hand over it. "Glenda." Lottie said again, almost in the same cadence she used to say it in when she locked her out of her room when she was little...er. The usual two-year-old vs seven-year-old shenanigans. But this was anything but. Never has it ever been physical.
Glenda was quiet now. The beast that was behind those eyes was gone. She didn't know what she was thinking, but she knew what she had done. She thought that another Good Guy was jumping her, or maybe it was Glen trying to talk her down again -she would've gladly struck him and passed it off as unintentional. Glenda lowered her head as she felt all eyes on her. She could've either been looking for words or just another way to scream. As she clenched her fists and even shook a little, she chose both.
"Of fucking course! It was only a matter of time wasn't it!? Shit just never works out for me!" Glenda cried and seized one of the Good Guy's discarded daggers, "I can't be human! I can't be this! It's all the fucking shadow men's fault! I'm over it! I'm fucking over everything! When you bring Chucky back, you tell him I couldn't wait!"
No one had the chance to protest she was so fast. Glenda clenched the dagger in her teeth and scurried up the wall of the elevator in a freak burst of strength and pushing herself off the wall and pulling herself out through the open escape hatch. Her continued screaming echoed down and up the shaft followed by the sound of prying doors. Above them, Ozzy, Shuana, Glen, and Lottie heard Good Guy voices playing the "I like to be hugged recording," then Glenda roaring out again. In that next moment, the head of a Good Guy doll came falling down into the elevator car through the open hatch. Fluff began falling through it as well. Glenda was going to work it seemed. Shauna did what she did best and stomped the head to pieces.
"What the shit is she doing!? Where is she going!?"
"Sh-she wouldn't...not by herself." Glen stared at the open hatch as he let Lottie out of his arms.
"Is she going after mother fucking Deacon Burton on her own?" Ozzy said what Glen was thinking but would never express that way. "Is that meant to be poetic as in she has something to prove, or it's the only thing she can do to make a difference?"
"I think she just lost her fucking mind." Shauna was blunt.
"Shit!" That was Glen uncharacteristically embodying his father as he kicked at the air, "I need to stop her before she does something stupid! If something happens I'm not sure we can get her back! I'll look for mum too!"
"Come on! We found you all just to lose you again!?" Lottie grabbed him by his sleeve before he could pull away. Going into big brother mode, Glen knelt down to her level -hands on her shoulders.
"I have to bring her back, Lottie. You want her back, don't you?" It was a simple statement, but Lottie knew exactly what Glen meant.
"Yes."
"I need you to stay with our friends, keep them safe like the brave, big girl I know you are. Get our dad back and I'll be right back with our sister."
"Will you?" Lottie glanced up.
"Yes, we will." Glen hugged her before stepping right under the open hatch. He didn't need to ask Shauna for help. Rather, he leap the whole way up and swiftly heaved himself out. There was a loud clanking sound as Glen disengaged the dagger jammed in the elevator's mechanism atop the car. "Take care of each other!" was his parting words before he pried the doors of the given floor the elevator was approaching and let himself through.
Lottie, Ozzy, and Shauna all felt the shift as the elevator resumed its ascent. The couple glanced at the doll girl as she sniffled. Pow wowed up by Glen, Lottie armed herself with two daggers. If she had any more hands, she would've absolutely carried the rest on the elevator floor. Then, she stood in front of the doors as the car approached the floor.
"Together, right?" She looked up at them with a small smile.
"Damn skippy." Ozzy smiled back, just moments before a Good Guy that introduced himself as Kenny fell through the roof hatch and latched onto him. "FUCKING SHIT!" Ozzy was tearing around the elevator, shaking it as he tried to do the same to the doll stuck on his back. The car dinged in that same instance. Shauna and Lottie retreated out first to give Ozzy space as he damn near came tumbling after. The alcove the elevator lead into wasn't too different from that of the first floor, save for a narrower hallway and fewer rooms. This part of the building was heavier on the cobwebs after the lights came back on.
"GET IT OFF ME!" he cried.
"The forbidden technique! Use the forbidden technique!" Shauna urged as if everyone knew what she was talking about. The important part was that he knew what she meant. As it would turn out, this forbidden technique simply consisted of Ozzy falling onto his back and the Good Guy by extension in an attempt to crush or at the very least get loose of them. Ozzy felt Kenny's plush body flatten as much as fluff could and one of his little arms come loose from around his neck. He was then easily able to tear the other one off him and fling Kenny back into the elevator like the ragdoll he might as well have been. He slid down the wall before slumping over.
"I like to be hugged." Kenny appeared to cry out and several more Good Guys dropped into the elevator. The doors were just starting to close but not on their watches. Two of them held them open.
Ozzy screamed and pointed his wrist at the elevator like he had done before. He was starting to get in the habit of letting it do the talking now. Here's another superpower moment for the books. The eye of Damballa birthmark glowed, there was no point in stalling it anymore, the power had awakened now. This was the new normal. No bolt of lightning or gout of flames shot from his hand like Ozzy had hoped. Rather, it seemed to like a force push as the air between him and the elevator rippled and crashed into the open car with the force of a car crash. The elevator with the dolls shook as something started sparking above them and the doors spasmed half open and closed. Some of the Good Guys were thrown to their stomachs as it continued to shake.
Then the elevator dropped, falling all the way down to the bottom of the shaft. The messed up part, or cool part to Shauna and Lottie, was that the dolls screamed the whole way down. It was in that shrill Good Guy voice so it was grating as it was unnerving. The car crashed and exploded as the smoke and flames rose and shot out the top of the shaft as it blew out every set doors on every floor. Ozzy, Shauna, and Lottie were sent to the floor the force was so great.
"Sheesh." That was Lottie.
"Ha, let's see them run up the stairs with those pudgy little legs!" Shauna pulled herself up using the axe and glanced around the floor they now found themselves on, the ninth one labeled as the doll workshop.
"Doll parts are all supposed to be kept up here. You still got my dad's eyes? Osborne?" Ozzy was breathing to calm himself as he held his wrist down on his knees. The birthmark was dimming, a tell tale sign that it was going to completely darken. He was back up with them in the next moment, patting his front pocket with Chucky's eyes in them.
"Yeah, let's see what we're working with up here."
Tiffany nearly felt her back break as she was slammed on the hallway the horde of Good Guys had dragged her down. She had no time to react. Fist, foot, fist, foot, one after the other as the possessed dolls surrounding her beat her down. The majority of the blows met her face. The Good Guys never tired and their plastic hands and small boot-like shoes continued to bruise, batter, and bleed the bride of Chucky. The hits were in such succession and force that the old, tiled floor beneath Tiffany began to crack.
"Hi! My name is Barry!"
"Hi! My name is Scotty!"
"Hi! My name is Riley!"
"Hi! My name is Percy!"
"Hi! My name is Marty!"
"Hi! My name is Harry!"
Each introduction was proceeded by a downward punch or kick. Tiffany could only hold her hands out in defense and slash blindly with Frick and Frack. This was just a percentage of the dolls actually there. Tiffany could feel hands around her legs, that meant she had to start kicking as well. She was getting annoyed now. The concussive strikes were blurring her vision, tempting her to pass out. Her blood from gashes in her head that made their way into her eyes didn't help much either. Tiffany's eyes may be green but in that moment, she was seeing red that would've made her husband look tame.
"I'LL RIP YOU ALL APART!" Tiffany drove Frick into an oncoming Good Guy's kick and took advance of how light Good Guys weighed and flung him aside into one of his comrades. She was ready with Frick again when another tried socking her, the blade went through his closed fist. Another Good Guy tried to strike her as well, but Tiffany did the same with Frack. She was on a knee now, just one more move from getting back up and regrouping. With a hard twist, she severed both of the Good Guys' hands before slitting them both across the throats as she full pulled herself up. The throat slits were pointless since they couldn't bleed yet, but Tiffany couldn't help it.
More of the Good Guys were moving around her. All Tiffany had to do in that instant was find an opening, and that she did -one break in the horde leading further down the hall of the first floor. She didn't account to be suddenly flanked by a Good Guy, who wrapped his arms around her and chomped down on her right ear and began pulling it -hard. Tiffany roared in pain, which was comparatively sharper than simply just being pummeled. She jammed Frack through the top of his head and flung him over herself and sending him right into another charging Good Guy. Tiffany was lunging at the Good Guy close to the aforementioned break in the group, both Frick and Frack went into his eyes where Tiffany had him pinned before ripping his head off with a plushy tear and throwing it back at the swarm. She then tore down the hallway as they flooded it after her, the intentional tear in her dress doing her more than good.
On the left side of the hallway there was an untouched door that Ozzy, Shauna, and Lottie either missed or disregarded on their way in. Tiffany didn't bother to check whether it had a lock on or was locked. What's important was that it looked brittle and decrepit enough to crumble at the slightest touch. She drove herself right through it. The door was broken in no way a human could've in the most literal sense. Tiffany completely broke the lower part of the door while the upper remained intact and on its hinges. The room stretched more than she could imagine, maybe because she had just stumbled upon the factory's worker's locker room for safety gear and protective suits designed for handling industrial amounts of boiling plastic. The dimmed room housed an aisle of a dozen student-sized lockers along a row of sinks running parallel to them. Tiffany caught her breath as she slowed her pace around them. Most of them were locked or rusted shut, but there was one with the door wide open like a super convenient invite.
Tiffany needed the element of surprise again if it meant hiding. She fit right into the locker, seeing how the only thing in it was a white, button-down work shirt with a faded Play Pal patch on the left breast. The shirt was suspended on a wire hanger. Tiffany sat back as far as she could inside beneath it and closed the door, jamming Frack in the lock mechanism to keep it shut. She quieted herself, nearly making like a Barbie doll as she could hear the Good Guys entering the room. It was kind of hard not to considering they finished off the door. Tiffany felt the shakes coming on, but she didn't allow it. Sweat began to mix with blood on her brow. She didn't have to, but she used the shirt draped over her to wipe it. The slightest tug caused it to fall on top of her. Tiffany wasn't expecting the weight from the shirt even if it was several grams. She raised an eyebrow as she felt around the shirt and came to its front pocket.
Some higher being like Damballa must've really had a funny bone for Chucky and his family when it comes to ironic twists of fate because inside that pocket was an old pack of Camel Cigarettes dated 2004. Next to it was an equally as old lighter on its last leg of fluid. Tiffany actually did smile and keep herself from giggling as she thought what you had just read. She had quit smoking when she got pregnant with Lottie and never picked it up again. It was actually kind of easy with all the second-hand smoke from Poker tournaments since Jennifer Tilly was as good as blacklisted actor wise. So, there's not going to be a surreal scene of Tiffany hearing voices of Uncle Nic begging her to smoke him -not going to do that. Instead, we're taking the noir approach.
The Good Guys had begun tearing down the locker doors starting with the very first one. Picturing it, it's kind of cute envisioning them working together. But how they were able to rip the rusted metal isn't so much. Tiffany was in the 11th of the 12th one, so you can imagine she had a little bit of time before they inevitably got to her. Bless them for going one by one. So with the background noise of the metallic tearing, Tiffany pulled out a cigarette from the pack and lit up in the locker she came to think as her private clubhouse. She nearly closed her hand around the flame after she sparked it to keep it from getting too bright. Even after a minuscule inhale compared to what she used to do, Tiffany felt like a teenager again with how hard the buzz hit. The stick never left her mouth, she was going to hands-free this. Tiffany felt her brain hiss while it also began to wander.
28-year-old Tiffany Valentine felt like she was running on the clouds she was puffing with the new Brooks Chucky got her. Summer was and is the best time to run the trail along Lake Shore Drive south to the city. She was chugging along like a locomotive with a cigarette in her mouth. Believe it or not, she would place second in the 1987 Chicago Marathon that next year doing the same thing before she and Chucky killed the winner, but that is a story for another day. They often went for runs on days like this when it was warm, nothing quite like the Lake Michigan air. It's like being on a saltwater coast but without the palm trees.
"Tiff! Hey! Hold up!"
Tiffany did just that even though there was a bench just where she stopped, she chose to stand as she finished her cigarette. She stopped like a locomotive too, letting out a huge cloud of smoke-like steam that she had seemingly kept hidden as she was running. 27-year-old Chucky caught up with her, hunched over, drenched in sweat, as he heaved himself onto the bench. Workout clothes in the 80s were funny because of those shorts, you bet your ass Chucky and Tiffany wasn't free from them. You also got to love how even the shirts for dudes were like crop tops. Chucky absolutely was rocking one of those. I'll be cool and let you pick the colors. Both of them had their hair in buns and out of their faces. Chucky hung his head back over the bench as he painted like a dog. Tiffany ashed her cigarette.
"We've only gone like two miles, Chucky," she stretched her arms behind her head as she glanced over at the ascending concrete obelisk that was the John Hancock and the start of Michigan Avenue behind it. "We're at Lasalle, we started at Fullerton." Chucky looked at her bewildered as he continued to catch his breath. His chest moved up and down like a frog's throat rather than a normal breathing pattern.
"Shit, Tiff, I think your lungs have lungs, or the damn things are just oil drums! How are you going through half a pack that whole time?" Chucky undid his bun and wrang out his hair, sweat actually came out. It was foul.
"When I get going I try to be impossible to stop...and my father would always beat the crap out of me if I ran late with the groceries when I was little," she smiled and sat beside him on the bench, lowering her head onto him. She wasn't exactly squeaky clean herself after the run thus far either.
"Maybe you were made in a lab...It wasn't a good idea to take the run today. I'm going to need a stretcher tonight."
"You're working?" Tiffany asked.
"Always am. I was at lunch the other day, and I overheard some punk asses doubting if the Lakeshore Strangler was real. I followed one of them back home. I'm thinking a good old systematic pick-off. With some luck, it might even become a whodunit." Chucky grinned.
"Wouldn't that be fun?... Hey, Chucky?" She placed a hand on his face, it slipped right off because he was so sweaty. "You think that I could go out one night too?"
"We've been doing that more and more, don't see why not. I can always use an extra set of hands out there."
"No, I mean like on my own." Chucky's head rose.
"Tiff, I mean, I can't keep you at home all the time but the Lakeshore Strangler isn't exactly something that can be thrown around. It's kind of a whole identity with a lot of people looking for him."
"I'm not trying to be you. I think I can be my own kiiii-kitchen ware seller." Tiffany stopped herself as a family with a stroller passed them by on the trail. She waited until they were out of earshot. "You said it yourself, you showed me everything you know -time to get out there. I know a whole block of people I want gone." Chucky meant to give her a worried look but it came across as defensive.
"You really want the police department to double their size because they have two serial killers to deal with now?"
"They were dealing with two the moment I moved in with you. Wait, is it because you don't think I can cut it like you can?"
"No. You're the fucking strongest woman I know. Hell, I'm the strongest man I know and I come home more often than not with stab wounds."
"What was that you just said?" It was Tiffany's turn to raise her head from where it lay on Chucky.
"...I'm the strongest man?"
"No, the part before that. Ha, dumbass."
"You're...the strongest woman I know." Chucky looked away. That got Tiffany snickering. She moved a hand to his exposed gut and grabbed his itty bitty love handles. That's why Chucky's such a skinny guy what little fat he does get stubbornly goes there. He hissed as Tiffany inched her face closer to his.
"You know something, sweetface, I think you know that deep down I could be a better killer than you."
"Ssssshhhiit, Tiiiiff!" Chucky's hissing turned into the best muffled laughter he could being naturally ticklish. "Not so loud with the k-word, there's people on the beach!" He sharply yelped rather than admitting defeat with a laugh.
"You're the one being loud."
"Is this what you would do as Lakeshore Strangler? Molest little boys on benches in public?"
"Fuck you, asshole, you're only five months younger."
"I'll fucking scream!" Chucky was playing back now, grabbing all over at his girlfriend. That only caused her to tighten her grip and he narrowly avoided another yelp, even more high pitch than the last. The couple shifted around on the bench so much that the thing was shaking down to its foundations. Chucky eventually got Tiffany's hands off him but at the cost of both them falling off the bench and onto the trail. The two rolled off the concrete and onto the grass nearby, grunts of exertion turning into laughter.
"Get a hair cut, hippie!" Some fucker in a 1984 Dodge Daytona yelled at Chucky in particular as he passed by them on the nearby Lasalle street. Both he and Tiffany shot up in response and didn't take their eyes off the vehicle until it was out of sight down Lakeshore Drive.
"You got his plate numbers?" Chucky asked Tiffany. She tapped her head with a finger knowingly.
"It's in there. Run it to the DMV in town and find his address?"
"Fuck yes, we're stopping at Pizzeria Due on the way!"
There was a point to that specific memory. Maybe it's meant to show that she's more than an equal compared to Chucky or that she's a walking talking engine and smokes gives her strength, up to the reader. Tiffany slide down the wall of the locker as she damn near felt her eyes roll to the back of her head. Cigarettes have plastic in them, she is made out of plastic, therefore she is cigarettes. Then finally came the buzz as her eyes shot open, it really has been too long. She was breathing the smoke out through the vented door. It didn't matter, the Good Guys couldn't smell yet. But, they could see and she could hear them hasten their efforts towards the locker. Tiffany inhaled so hard she was boarding in sucking territory. The cigarette burned to the butt like a Tom and Jerry cartoon. It didn't need to be put out, it did all on its own. Tiffany took deep breaths on her own, increasing in pace as smoke exited her mouth and nose. She wasn't coughing. The Good Guys were in front of the locker now. Showtime, stunning little terror (that wasn't me, the back of the VHS box of Bride of Chucky calls her that).
A Good Guy we'll call the inspector was the one of was opening the lockers one by one while the other seemed to watch, waiting to jump at the kill. The inspector had his hand centimeters to the locker's handle when the door nearly flew off its hinges and Tiffany came flying out. Screaming a dominating roar the entire time, she grabbed the inspector by his hair and broke his teeth right on the bottom of the aged porcelain of the sink. You know that it wasn't just one slam. Tiffany kept pulling his head back and bring it back down as his mouth, face, and entire head broke as did the sink. Tiffany chucked the body aside when she had her fill. The group of Good Guys had watched it all. Tiffany took advantage of the fact they weren't attacking her just yet to light up another stick. She held it in her lips, taking another savory inhale as she twirled out Frick and Frack with her fingers.
"You boys picked me up at a really bad time...I just had a slip."
They didn't have to charge her. Tiffany willingly threw herself to them. She pretty much shredded the torso of the one she first came into contact. It looked like a dinosaur had taken a bite out of it by the time she was done. In nearly the same moment she drove Frick downward in a stab at another Good Guy that managed to catch her wrist. He was immediately meant with Frack through his wrist as Tiffany twisted it and his whole hand was lost. Tiffany then both drove both knives into him and used him as a battering ram against the others. That was helpful in gaining more ground toward the room's exit. She had scraped the disabled Good Guy off just before two other grabbed her shoulders. They were able to lift her off the ground as Tiffany yelled in defiance. A third Good Guy went for her as she was exposed. Tiffany thought fast and drove her heel directly into his eye as he got close. Another advantage in disguise here. Tiffany wrapped her other leg around his neck and was able to wriggle free from the two that held her. The Good Guy came crashing down as so did she right on his head, crushing it. The cigarette was still in her mouth as she took the fifth hit during that period of time.
One of them that held her went for her neck, wrapping his hand around it. This wasn't Tiffany's first time being strangled, so she knew how to conserve and expends her strength while being so. She started hacking away at the Good Guy's gut as he tried to hold her in place. Once the gash was big enough, she drove her hand right in his plush-filled gut. She felt wires the further she got, the ones connecting to the battery compartment. They might as well be his guts because that's how she treated them. Tiffany coiled and tangled it around with her wrist and pulled it out just like a disemboweling. The thin, black wire was actually quite lengthy. She did what came naturally, and wrapped the wire around the Good Guy's neck as she forced him on his belly. Tiffany pulled -she pulled like there was no tomorrow. The doll couldn't be strangled but that's not what she was going for. The wire was like a cable as it tightened and even began to cut through the tiny neck. Tiffany gave a cry of exertion as she popped his damn head off.
The second one tried flanking her to get her in a headlock but she saw it coming and got him in a hold of her own. She made a vertical incision on his stomach, but instead of her hand or knives, she shoved the cigarette from her mouth inside. The fluffy flash-cotton-like stuffing made for great tinder and caught within a couple of seconds. We've seen dolls be burned but never from the inside out? The fire soon spread to the rest of the doll's body as it sauntered around the locker room as Tiffany kicked him aside. The plastic head began melting over the burning overalls and the arms shortened like wax candles. It was only a short matter of time before it fell on its melting face and died.
Tiffany was every synonym of ready for what came next but she found something that she honestly wasn't expecting. The locker room was empty, save for the bodies of the dolls she just dispatched. The larger horde must have lost her when she ran and only a handful led a pursuit. Either they were stupid or didn't take her seriously enough as a threat. Tiffany would make them pay for both. Before leaving the locker room, she lit another smoke using the flames dancing on the body of the Good Guy she just wasted. Tiffany felt great even though she absolutely has seen better days, but the only thing that could make her feel better is her family. Still, she couldn't help but smile with a puff of smoke as the Good Guys patrolling the hallway spotted her.
Little Washington Deacon Burton stood on one of the walkways the foremen used to frequent above the factory floor. He could feel the soul tether tugging at his core in all directions. It sure felt like his forces were having fun, however, they were also wasting time with their sad performance. Still, after surveying the factory floor, it looked like he had plenty of resources to work with. Below him, Good Guys of varying conditions tore around the factory like Terminators with malware. Similar to how caterpillars eat the eggs they are born out of, some of these possessed dolls were chewing on their packaging. Minds can be controlled to the point where they lack is something that holds true here. But it still looked funny. Burton had his hands behind his back as he felt himself playing Yankee Doodle on his doll body's voice box. He was now cursing himself for not tar and feathering Chucky when he had the chance. That would've been fun. He was in his own world, eyes closed and head swaying as he hummed along. Both of these became the inverse as he suddenly felt a presence on the walkway with him.
"If your intent was to surprise me, creature, it certainly worked now that I'm looking at you."
I just saved you several Good Guy slaughtering paragraphs by having Glenda right here, several Good Guy heads clutched by their hair in one hand and snake dagger in the other like a headhunter (good one, buddy). That wasn't why Burton was surprised, it was the fact that she was standing there and the condition she was in showed it. Her left leg was completely exposed with that portion of her dress ripped away. She was even missing her boot. The bruises and gashes she had prior looked like they had doubled in number. Her hair, once her pride and joy, was torn in more places as well. But the worst part was that the side of her mouth, upper and lower lip, had been slashed off by a Good Guy. It was bad, she had a Two-Face grin with it with all her face and gums out in the open there. Her sharp teeth make it look like Michael Rooker's character in Slither. She stood hunched over, legs twisted on themselves as she heaved and stared down Burton. The walkway was grated so the trail of blood she left fell right through it. Oh Glenda, how far you have fallen.
"Y-you! This is all your fault! You fucked it all up!" She chucked the heads she held at him, most of them fell short and rolled off the walkway. One did manage to reach him, but the Deacon caught it like a dodgeball and tossed it behind him.
"If we're being honest, you didn't really leave much for me, creature." Burton tilted his head at her, "Hm, I see clarity in your gaze. Did some time with my shadow men give you time to clear your head?"
"Before I make what they did to me look like a Dr. Seuss story compared to what I'm about to do to you and finally make a difference in my life," Burton scoffed at her but she continued, "You're an ageless magic expert, do...do you know what I am?"
"This one has awareness after all," Burton folded his arms, "You noticed I call you creature for a reason, yeah? Souls are a lot like open books to me at this point. I can read them just as I am that expression of pure stupification on your face . And like with books, if it's good, I take it. I saw the 'soul' you and your sibling possessed and I immediately knew something was different. All souls from the fruit of the Tree of Life are composed a certain way -auras, chakras, whatever you want to call it, it's there. When it comes to your soul...it's not. At first it looked like part of you was missing, but that couldn't be true. We wouldn't be having this conversation because you simply couldn't exist."
"What does that mean!? How am I here!?"
"Creature, I'm not entirely sure if you should be. The only explanation that makes sense to me is that the little one and his wench unknowingly attempted a ritual and failed intensely. I can only fault him so much. Your soul is not from the Tree of Life, but just a byproduct of his reckless use of our lord's blessings. I almost feel sorry for you, wearing human clothing for so long. Don't worry, your suffering ends soon." Glenda felt a pit in her stomach. Everything she had thought had been confirmed. Red and black was all she saw, but right now all she needed to see was red.
"I've been getting that a lot tonight...'you're not supposed to be here, you're not a real person, you're ' Yet here I fucking am! Funny how that works!"
"Ah, but it wasn't just tonight. You've felt and been getting this treatment your whole...life, would we call it? Everyone else having that certain light while you completely lack it? I remember when I sent the shadow men to the cemetery to make sure you were dead when I first discovered you. Your body was buried beneath the tombstone with no flowers or gifts as they reported. I see why now. A mock grave for a mock human."
Glenda shrieked, tears once again mixing with blood on her face as she charged the Deacon. If he wanted the Good Guys on the factory floor to intervene then they would have right now. He wanted to be the Steve Irwin to this crocodile. Oh wait, Steve Irwin didn't violently mutilate them after. Burton caught her by the neck and harshly lifted and slammed her on the metal grating of a floor. Glenda gave a cough of relief when he let her go, but that was only to unsheathe his sword of a voodoo dagger. The scary thing was still glowing from when he had cast the spell.
"You do realize I brutalized your parents and will do just the same if not worst to you, correct?"
"I'm not their fucking kid!" Glenda was back up and slashing with the salvaged dagger. Burton's blocks were effortless, he literally just held his weapon in front of wherever the dagger was bound to strike him. He really didn't need to, having not turned human yet. The centuries-year-old serial killer went on the offense as he started bringing down the blade as if it was an axe on Glenda while she went on the defense. The first strike she blocked brought her down on one knee, the second one brought her down on both, and the third and final one landed her on her back. This guy hit like a truck as green sparks flew from the blade as it collided with unenchanted metal. Burton attempted to forward strike her with the point of the blade like a fencer but Glenda kept groveling back as it made holes in the walkway in front of her. She kicked at it with her booted foot and the vibrations caused Burton to briefly let go of it. She used that as an opening and lunged at him. Now it was his turn on his back. Of course, the stabs did no good no matter how long Glenda felt like was tearing at him for. Burton decided he let her play around enough and grabbed both her wrists.
"You just squandered your chance of making this slow, creature." He said before full sending both his feet directly into Glend's gut that sent her flying off him and smashing right against the ceiling. She, along with some moldy drywall and plaster came falling back down on the walkway in front of Burton. The Deacon didn't give her a chance to recover, she pulled her long, red hair over her face and began driving his knee directly into it. His grip on her was like a machine and Glenda guessed this is how the trainers that got killed by Orcas in captivity felt. Blood started splashing right after the first slam. That really sucked because Burton was planning on doing this for as long as he pleased.
Below on the factory floor, Glen made his way in through the door that they had retreated out of. Actually, no, he made an entrance by charging in with a Good Guy impaled on his tanto as he ran it into a wall. A swift beheading like Kenshi was enough to disable it. He had seen much better days too. One of his sleeves was ripped clean off, leaving his sweater a semi-tee. The broken hand still wasn't doing him any favors. The Good Guys around him spotted him at once and engaged to avenge their fallen brother. Glen played barber shop with their limbs, allowing them to surround him as he distributed the slashes in an organized fashion. The composure all came crashing down when he looked up to the walkway and saw Glenda with Burton, exactly as he feared.
"NO! GLENDA!" Glen roared louder than he had ever in this fic and quickly dispersed the Good Guys around him. He leave them lying or wriggling on the floor as incomplete forms as he advanced through and over the doll assembly machinery toward the walkway stairs. Any Good Guy that got in his way lost an arm, leg, head, or all of the above as he quickly but also recklessly pushed himself. One flanked him and got him in a hold, but Glen jumped and fell onto his back and knocked the shit out of it to escape. He was almost at the stairs. Just a little more ground to cover.
When Burton revealed Glenda's face from under her hair, more teeth fell out and her nose was broken. Her out-of-focus eyes and lolling head indicated that she was in the process of leaving the building, and I ain't talking about the factory. Burton wasn't done with her, he lifted her up the eye with just one hand and a fraction of his strength and hit the side railings of the walkway with her -that's as best as I could describe it. The rusty metal guard rails broke as Glenda's head made contact with them with all the force of a car crash. Her face was soaked in blood now and puffy, unrecognizable from our favorite comic relief. He then threw her down the walkway, which was really testing its support beams with how much it was shaking from what he was doing, back towards the stairs. Glenda really looked like a slasher movie victim here. Oh god, I think we're going into Terrifier territory. All her limbs seemed to fail her as her brain felt fuzzy. Either she was concussed or a fragment of her skull was piercing it ever so slightly. Groveling was all she could do before Burton grabbed her again and this time, flung her down the walkway stairs. Glenda couldn't cry out with each step she hit on the way down, she just didn't have the strength. The sound she made when she did hit them was sickening. In spite of everything, finally hitting the hard factory floor was kind of relieving in the end.
Glenda couldn't get up. She didn't even try. But, she did have the energy and can-do to raise her head. One last moment of situational awareness before she dies. It was Glen. He was standing before her, Good Guy fluff covering the wet blood spots on his body. He wasn't mad, he wasn't sad, and he wasn't her brother. She didn't know what she was, but for some reason at that moment, it felt good to see him.
"G-Glen..." Glenda weakly rasped. Before suddenly gasping along with Glen, as Burton's green voodoo blade buried itself in her shoulder. The Deacon was there, and he knew. He knew that Glen was watching. The blade left a deep and bloody gash in Glenda's shoulder and he had no intention of stopping there. Down it came again, then again, as he held her in place. Blood and steam from her much hotter organs rose and spilled from the cavity Burton was creating. The pool of blood around them became a lake.
"Now...you are free," Burton said before sheathing his blade and grabbing either side of the wound he had made and started pulling. Holy fucking Moses shit the sound, it was like tearing flesh and rubber at the same time. Glenda went into shock as her mid-section was split diagonally and all the innards came steaming out. Burton then pulled upwards and the tearing grew even louder as Glenda's upper body separated from her lower. This is why we're rated M. Burton threw her lower body to the side as the Good Guys eagerly dragged it off like zombies while holding Glenda's upper half.
Glen's eye twitches return. That last statement of him not being sad or angry couldn't have rung more true. He wasn't happy or sad, he was nothing at that moment but someone who had just watched his sister die. Except that she wasn't, that was the biggest heartbreak of all. Even in that state, Glenda was still looking at him and even croaked out his name again.
"G-G-Glen..." Her only hand shook as it reached out to him.
"YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!" Glen knew rage when he felt it. His once-balanced run was now sporadic and uneven, especially with his tanto clumsily held behind him with only one hand. Burton happily accepted the challenge and dropped Glenda in order to deal with him. He used Glen's momentum to maneuver him onto the stairs, ripe for a curb or step stomp. Glen quickly pushed himself out of the way right before his foot can seal the deal. All tampered and trained methods of attack went out the window as Glen simply attempted to stab Burton in the face. The Deacon caught his wrist before it could land, basic villain fighting 101. The pressure forced Glen to drop his tanto. Burton didn't twist it like you may be thinking, rather he started banging him against the floor like the Hulk did to Loki. Yup really, the floor broke and formed little craters wherever he slammed him against. Having a much larger doll body and strength to back it up makes all the difference. Glen was fighting to stay conscious as he struggled to get loose.
"You...you are like too many I've killed, hardly worth my time." He flung Glen back onto the metal stairs which did a number on his back. When he looked back up and regained his vision the Deacon was now surrounded by several possessed Good Guys. "My shadow men, however, wish to play with you." Glen did his best not to look hopeless and bury the fear inside like a true ronin but this was just not happening. He glanced at his possibly dead and mutilated sister on the floor by him and then back at the Deacon and his minions.
Glen hiccupped, wiping his face of blood and tears before rushing over to Glenda. He held her so her head was resting on his shoulder before he made his retreat away from the Cult deeper into the factory and warehouse floor. He had no direction, he just had to get somewhere safe. Deacon Burton smiled and placed his arms behind his back, the Good Guys were off like dogs at a racetrack after him.
"Insignificant worms..." he muttered to himself as he picked up Glen's tanto. Even he had to admit it was nice. What he didn't want to admit was the fact that he could feel his nose grow most with each passing second. Dolls don't have moist noses.
Glen vaulted over a decommissioned assembly line and into the storage area of the factory. Glenda narrowly slipped out of his hold, but he was keen on not letting her go as he held her close to him. His pathfinding was all improv and he assumed that everywhere he didn't look that wasn't clear there were Good Guys. The maze of boxes didn't help and he felt vertigo come on as they began to twist and contort in his eyes. One Good Guy got too close to comfort and was meant with a swift kick which managed to repel him. Glen hadn't felt Glenda move since he started running which only hurried him along.
Salvation came in the form of the foremen's office on the far side of the warehouse when they reached it. It was a simple yet secure box with a single door leading into a small office meant to be used for minutes at a time rather than hours. Glen quite literally tore through a couple lines of Good Guys boxes in order to get to it. The door fortunately was locked and that was good news for them. It was also good news for the Good Guy horde chasing them. Glen laid Glenda out on the floor and took a page out of Shauna's playbook and began barricading the door. It's a good thing this office had no windows as some did. After Glen had pushed the only two armchairs in addition to the desk, he knelt down beside the motionless Glenda, pretty much in the new pool of blood around her. Her eyes were closed now. That really set him off.
"Glenda!? GLENDA!? NO! PLEASE!" He shook her, "SIS!"
"S-stop yelling." Glenda coughed and came awake. It looked like she just chewed a handful of blood capsules. "I haven't left yet..." she glanced down at the rest of her when she really shouldn't have and saw her lack of arm and legs. The guts that didn't fall out were in the process of doing soand she was seeing it all. "Oh fuck me in the ass...I look like Frieza at the end of his saga."
"Haha," Glen couldn't help but smile but the tears were still rolling, "Y-You know that. But I thought that was weeaboo stuff to you."
"Aww, Glen, you never shut up about that shit, I was bound to pick at least some of it up. Yeah...but as it turns out, the only thing I can't pick up is myself."
"Glenda..."
"I'm sorry...I don't hate you and want you to die," Glenda took his hand in hers, "The world is just such a better place with you in it...hey wouldn't it be funny when I die and all the Good Guys and even the Deacon just drop dead? Like I was the problem. Figures...the only good thing I'm doing in my life is apologizing for it. Oh fuck Glen...Chucky and Tiffany are going to be so mad at me! Don't get me started on how upset Lottie is going to be."
"Glenda, you can't die."
"Glen...look at me. I'm hurting so bad that I don't hurt at all. That's fucked up! I said I was sorry but you were right. My existence was a mistake. This is a right...this is a good thing that happened." Glen hissed sharply and lowered himself into a hug in order to not move her.
"Stop thinking like that! I could never have done anything I've done without you! I wish I could show you! I wish I could..." Glen suddenly rose up, eyes wide as if hearing a song he hasn't heard since childhood. "Glenda! I can save you!" He put his hand on her forehead. "Ade due Damballa." Glenda's eyes widened.
"NO! NO!" She swatted his hand away.
"Glenda, please."
"NO! GO FUCK YOURSELF GLEN! NO! I'M NOT GOING BACK! I'M NOT GOING BACK IN THERE AGAIN!"
"Glenda," Glen held her face, "You're going to die, we have to."
"Ok! I'd rather die than go back! I still have the dreams and now you're asking me to live them!?"
"Things are different now! I promise! Everything is just so much clearer and the screams and nightmares have all stopped. I'm in complete control like I've always been and you are too! Please...come home."
"...What did you just say?"
"Come home."
Glenda exhibited a nervous Chucky behavior here and darted her head around as if waiting for an alternative option that favored her to appear out of thin air. She knew it wasn't going to though. There was something about how Glen said that. He had them. He absolutely had the answers she's been looking for this whole time. But being...that. No human being is that and should ever be that, especially as an infant.
"Oh alright...but I'll burn it all down if I hate it."
"Everything is going to be ok, Glenda, trust me." Glen repositioned his hand on her head.
"...I do." Glenda placed her hand on his forehead too.
"Together, just like Dad taught us."
"Ade due Damballa, give us the power we beg of you!"
"Ade due Damballa, give us the power we beg of you!"