I almost attempted this at 3 in the morning to celebrate getting my laptop back, but I am so glad I didn't. Sleep-deprived me is not somebody who has any business trying to write.
I will admit I might stick to the slightly shorter chapters for the time being, but only because it seems to be helping me actually get things written without having to worry about meeting my usual word count. So here's to what hopefully will be slightly more consistency in my posting schedule! Even though I really just wanna post all the cool parts and deal with the rest of the plot afterward. :P
As always, be kind and stay spooky, everyone.
-Inky
The world returned to Kirsty slowly as the sensory overload of her memories faded, leaving a soothing quiet in its wake. She came to realize she had a white-knuckle grip on a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and that Joey was gently rubbing her back. She blinked, small tears falling down her cheeks. Kirsty turned to look at her sister, and Joey smiled at her from behind her glasses.
"Hey," Joey said with her comfort voice, soft and encouraging. Kirsty couldn't remember the last time she heard it - was it when Joey had first brought her home from the Institute? "I got you a bottle of water, you need any?" Kirsty shook her head; her hands were shaking as they grasped her protective layer, and she was beginning to realize she didn't know where she was. What was this place? It was black and bare, like it had been stripped from the inside out, and the only things filling the space were benches and a stage covered in debris.
"Joey," she managed, "where are we?"
There was a knocking sound, and Kirsty's head whipped to the side to follow it. The woman leaning against the wall was chewing on a lollipop stick, but didn't seem to have any actual candy left. Kirsty vaguely recognized her, along with a memory of a car.
"You're... Terri," she managed, and Terri nodded before tossing the lollipop stick into a nearby garbage can. It hit the metal with a heavy echo.
"Welcome back," she said, walking over and sitting down some distance from Kirsty on the bench. "We're in an old nightclub. It used to be The Boiler Room, don't know what it's gonna be next."
"The Boiler Room..." Kirsty repeated, finally easing her grip on the blanket somewhat. "I think I did a travel piece on this spot once. The owner wasn't too happy..." It took her a second before she realized the implications, especially since she could remember a particular remark she'd made that had gotten her an angry and poorly-spelled email. "I'm sorry, I..."
Terri laughed, and Kirsty felt Joey rubbing her shoulder again. "No, I remember that, you were right. This place was garbage, just like the guy who owned it." Kirsty smiled a bit in relief, shaking her head again - though this time it was in amusement. The guy in question, J. P. Monroe, had been quite the piece of work. "You feeling any better? You could barely talk at first."
"I think so, yeah," Kirsty said, finally managing to sit up from how she'd been hunched over, drawing in a deep breath of air. It was stale and smelled of old alcohol and the musk of sex, but her lungs were grateful for it after what must have been bouts of holding it in.
"Kirsty, what happened back there?" She turned back to Joey, whose expression had turned to one of worry. "The last thing that happened was the lights went out and you started panicking. You almost crushed your notebook." She handed Kirsty the spiral-bound book, now wrinkled with distinct finger-grips. "Are you afraid of the dark...?"
"No," Kirsty said with a swallow, "Just what's in it. This might take a bit to explain."
"We've got time," Terri said, leaning against the wall, "I don't have anywhere to be." Kirsty looked to her sister, who nodded in turn.
"Okay," she said, "but it's going to sound absolutely insane. My uncle was obsessed with this puzzle box..."
He had miscalculated, it seemed.
Initially the Prince had taken J.P. Monroe's soul to be too weak. It had been rich in sin but poor in constitution, a spirit prone to bending to whatever whim claimed it, and thus his flesh was steeped in indulgence and weakened by its consumption of vices. But now as the first guard's blood filled the column which cracked and chipped away it seemed he was mistaken - with Angelique's first victim and the guard who'd tried to protect her from the big scary box, he could feel his strength returning, his constraints crumbling away.
Three was enough after all.
The column fell apart with a burst, and from the rubble stepped a tall, imposing figure. The prince smiled, relishing the return of movement to his limbs, his fingertips already itching to tear and reshape flesh. There was nothing to hold him back now - in fact, he thought as he looked around the warehouse, why wait to start?
He held his hands aloft, willing the discarded pieces of architecture to rearrange themselves into something more suited to his tastes. He would reshape his current space into a dwelling worthy of Leviathan's favorite, something less lackluster than this paltry scene.
Exactly one shelf moved to the left.
The prince stared; he lowered his hands and focused on the old shelf, willing all his attention on it. It slid faster and started to bend, to shape as he envisioned, but it was frustratingly slow in its transformation. He sank his chains into it, but even that did not feel correct. Idly his hand drifted to the empty spot where two scars met at the center of his brow, feeling the absence of his pin.
Kirsty was afraid. Kirsty was afraid but kept herself between the doctor and Tiffany, and he'd needed to do something.
"Run!" Kirsty said, and Tiffany did. She looked back to the doctor. The prince stepped forward, put his hand on her shoulder, and...
Nothing.
What was missing? He remembered confronting the doctor, and his loss, but there was a gap, a vague space in his memory. What had he done, and how had it cost him his pin? Even without his overbearing inhibitions he was constrained; to deny Leviathan's gifts was to deny his power, and by missing a pin he was considerably weaker.
There was a sound of footsteps, heels against cement, and he locked the thought away. For now he would keep his disadvantage from the Princess; there were more important and immediate things to attend to.
Tiffany was so proud of herself- not only had she finished her book, she'd gotten halfway through the second one in the series! She set the novel down with its bookmark in place, content with her progress, and flipped open her computer. She'd already set out her agenda for the day; after reading was a movie and lunch, and then maybe she'd head out for some light shopping before ordering dinner for the three of them. Tiffany started scrolling through her playlist - she had a number of things she'd been meaning to watch, and she didn't have to worry about sharing the TV - when a ringing made her jump.
It took her a second to register the source - a video call on her screen, patiently asking her to pick up. She didn't recognize the number, and stranger still it seemed to change every time she blinked. I'll wait it out, she thought, then listen to the voicemail.
It didn't stop ringing.
Tiffany sat there, staring uncomfortably at the screen as it buzzed, and she couldn't click away from it. The window just stayed open, waiting for her. Steeling herself and deciding that she could always just hang up, she answered.
For a second the video screen was dark. "Is this Tiffany?" A man's voice asked - calm, but with a polite urgency that made her nod. "You look well. I can see you - I'm sorry, but I'm not very good with this sort of communication. My image should be coming in soon." And indeed it was - slowly the shape of a man was forming, vague and composed of undefined colors and shadows. "Listen to me very carefully - you need to reach out to your sisters and find out if they're safe. The museum they were investigating is in very real and immediate trouble. There is a chance to stop it, and I want to help, but it will require the three of you."
He was somewhat easier to see now, and she could make out a beige uniform of sorts. For a second Tiffany felt skepticism, a deep discomfort that made her start to reach forward and shut the laptop.
"Tiffany, please listen to me," he said gently, "it involves the puzzle box." Immediately she pushed the screen back up, and saw the grim expression on the face staring at her; one she'd only seen twice before, and once in an old photo, but it was a face she knew immediately.
In spite of herself, she mouthed a name. He nodded.
"The box is at risk of being open permanently, and I believe the four of us have the means to stop it. I'll explain when you get to them. find them, Tiffany, and be safe. You can message me on your phone." He nodded one more time. "There's no time to lose."
The screen went black, and Tiffany shut the laptop before shoving it in her back. She grabbed a flashlight, a mace can Kirsty had bought her, and a cross she kept hanging on her bedroom door; it had been her mother's, and while she wasn't one for religion for personal reasons it brought her a deep comfort she knew she'd need. Tiffany looked at her phone and opened her messages; already the name Elliot Spencer was waiting for her.
I'm on my way, she typed, and ran out as she started texting Joey.
Wow, that was longer than expected. Hooray...?
One more note I feel is important - I consider the comics a separate continuity from the films, so I won't be using anything from them in most of my writing. That includes the Hell Priest's alternative name, Xipe Totec. I'm still working out what the replacement name is going to be, but I've already basically torn canon apart and sewed together the good bits in some kind of continuity quilt, so who knows.
More coming soon! I'm still on a roll here and I don't wanna lose it.
Hopefully there's more coming soon. We'll see!
