The Californian sky was painted that tangerine texture as the sun began to rise, seemingly across the highway. Ozzy's grip loosened on his steering wheel and his eyelids practically dragged themselves down, only to shoot back up seconds later. For once, it wasn't the THC in his veins, it was the melatonin in his brain.
"Hey!" Lottie reached out from the passenger seat and gave him a smack, meant to be heavy and taken lightly, on the back of the head, "Now isn't the time to invest a timeshare in dreamland." In reality, she really could hold a candle to Ozzy, who had been driving until first light. She had been guilty of the crime falling asleep twice since they left the apartment. It was only when Ozzy bothered to change the radio to anything that wasn't the soap opera channel that Lottie awoke and quickly changed it back.
Ozzy shook his head, stirring himself, "We've already passed downtown L.A, where could we be going?"
"Studio district," said Lottie, "Get off right here." She pointed to an exit sign, and Ozzy got off the highway.
"Studio district? Your dad works on movies?" Ozzy asked, humorously. Lottie actually smiled for a microsecond, picturing her father in a director's chair.
"Thankfully not. If he worked in film, I'd say he'd be in a series of movies….each sequel progressively worse then the last but with small redeeming moments that make them a bit unique but nonetheless mediocre altogether."
"...Wow….wasn't expecting an honest answer…." Ozzy chuckled. Lottie smirked.
The road soon took them to what could best be described as the storage locker of Hollywood. A bit beyond where the studios were established and where the famous lived. An industrial like area with warehouses lined up against the street in rows. Each with a respective studio branded on it like a piece of property. There was one for Warner Bros, Universal, Paramount, the list goes on.
Lottie had Ozzy pull up to one marked with the Universal logo. The large white, bold letters around the world were beginning to fade. The globe was missing a majority of its outline, one side of a legible planet Earth was clashing with sloppy blotches of green and blue. Almost like the planet was bleeding out. Whatever this warehouse was, it hasn't been opened, let alone touched, in a long time.
"This is the place," Lottie then swiftly climbed back on Ozzy's back as he turned to exit the car. She wrapped her legs around his upper torso and used his dreadlocks as an improve grip. Again, Ozzy could feel the cool tip of the dagger pressed against the back of his neck where Lottie held it.
"Don't even think about running," she hissed, "Over there." Ozzy whistled in interest as she guided him to the impending rusty doors of the warehouse, which were locked from the inside.
Lottie let herself down on the ground and gave one of the doors a couple of hefty knocks with the butt of the dagger. Ozzy could hear the metal boom echo throughout the warehouse within. There was then the clicking of locks coming undone. Judging by the sound of them, there had to be at least five bolts locked in. The door gaped open just a crack before slowly creaking all the way as if the wind or something that hid itself very well was doing all the work. Lottie gestured to Ozzy.
"Follow me in. Again, I ask you to not think you can run….you're in our house now." Ozzy couldn't tell if that was a warning or a challenge. Clutching his bag under his arm, he followed the doll inside. The door wasn't short of closing behind him the second he entered and the bolts once again locked back into place.
The interior reeked dreadfully, smelling like very old brass. The air was thick and clammy, the roof was decorated in webs that cased around the dim lights like a cocoon. It was almost as if the bulbs were suffocating to death. The whole place was in fact just a big storage bin for the studio's props they used in their movies….the low budget ones at least since not a single article of what Ozzy saw rang any bells. Most of them were in wooden crates stacked all around like a jungle. In fact, he and Lottie were walking down an aisle surrounded by the boxes.
Behind the stacks and within the dark spots, Ozzy could here scampering and shadows moving. At first he figured a rat's nest or something, but the shadows seemed far too big to be that of a rodent. Lottie was either oblivious or choosing to ignore it as she continued on in front of him next to the crates that seemed to trap them in a maze.
Suddenly, Lottie cried out as she stopped dead in her tracks and something slightly bigger than her engulfed itself around her. Ozzy jumped back and yelped in fright. Lottie seemed to struggle a bit before standing still in annoyance.
"Guess who?" someone new said. An easily identifiable voice of yet another girl, but this seemed nothing Lottie's. It was more high pitched, at least trying to be on purpose. There was far more energy in it too, totally maniacal and psychotic.
Ozzy had gained back the distance he had lagged behind Lottie and the dim light on the ceiling brightened up before dying back down. Lottie stood, arms folded with the dagger tucked between them. Behind her stood another doll. This one, taller than her and frizzy red hair engulfing most of her frame. Dressed fancy in a pink bridesmaid like dress with a choker. Fancy couldn't be used to describe her facial features though, illuminated by the weak light. Freckles on her cheeks just below her wide blue eyes with dilated pupils. A massive grin, too large for any human to display, stretched across her face. Her teeth even seemed to be pointed in areas, sharp as dull razors almost. She was snickering through her grin as she covered both Lottie's eyes with each neatly manicured hands.
"Glenda, so help me, you have less than ten seconds to take your hands off me before I do it for you," growled Lottie.
"...Close enough!" the taller doll kept her hands to herself, "How was your trip?"
"Terrible," spat Lottie, "I got lost in the mail twice! That's the last time I ask you for help!"
"Archer Road, Archer Street, what's the difference?" Glenda chuckled, she then glanced over at Ozzy, "Who the Hell's this?"
"Osborne Wilkes," Lottie spoke for him, "The one dad's been looking for." Glenda gave him a funny look.
"All this time, dad's been looking for a pot dealer? Is this his guy or something?"
"I don't sell," Ozzy uncontrollably blurted out. When you're avid drug user and called a dealer, it's instinct to say otherwise.
"Hmmm,mmm," Glenda hummed dreamily, looking him over far too much for comfort, "I know I'd like to get together and feel alright with you, if you know what I'm saying….Dreadie." Ozzy just shuffled a bit uncomfortably where he stood. Lottie heaved a bit, as if she vomited a bit in her mouth.
"Who is this, Lottie?" Ozzy asked, it felt weird addressing her by her real name. Then again, it was even weirder that dolls were sentient.
"My sister, Glenda," she hissed as Glenda pat her on the head.
"Big sister," she emphasized. Lottie swatted at her hand.
"Is dad around?"
"Sure is, down that way." Glenda gestured down the seemingly endless aisle. Lottie started back off again. Expecting both her sister and Ozzy to follow. As they walked Glenda lagged behind, purposely walking beside Ozzy.
"So….Dreadie," she curled her fingers in her hair, "Sorry, can I call you 'Dreadie?'"
"You don't have to….my name is Ozzy." Glenda paused in thought unconvincing.
"No, fuck that, you're Dreadie to me….my Dreadie." She purred happily as she pressed her head to his leg. Ozzy again stirred uncomfortably.
As they descended deeper into the warehouse, the props became much more numerous. Cardboard, life sized cutouts of the classic Universal monsters were propped up in some places, from Phantom of the Opera to the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Rubber latex monster limbs protruded from some of the crates, as if clawing for an escape. It all was comparable to a line queue for a horror themed dark ride, oddly enough. Ozzy felt his thumb dig furiously at the snake eye mark on his wrist, silently blaming it for his current position.
The isle of crates slowly gave way as the trio came to a large empty space, the ass end of the building given some space to breathe among the clutter. Lottie seemed to stop in the dead center of the circle like area and the flickering light above her suddenly whirred to life, layering the dimness with extremely thin brightness.
"Dad! Mom! I'm home!" Lottie called out. Her voice echoed throughout the hollow building. It was on its second reverberation, when the scurrying of little footsteps could be heard. They grew closer in rapid succession, seemingly working their way from behind where Ozzy stood alongside Glenda to somewhere in front of them.
Two more dolls presented themselves, emerging from behind a large stack of crates. The shorter one bare an uncanny resemblance to Glenda facially. Blue eyes, freckles, frizzy red hair (shorter than hers by a longshot), and even the pointed teeth, showed to Ozzy when the doll yawned. Truth be told, he (at least it resembled a boy rather than a girl) seemed to be the most innocent little thing that Ozzy had ever seen. Purple fitted him well, almost like he was made to wear that violet turtleneck. Which seemed a bit too big for him, the fabric neck covered his own and even held its ground outside of his mouth, almost like a ninja's mask. His lower body was fitted with kiddy grey shorts and shoes. Attached to his waist by a short black chain, was the sheathed blade of a tantō. His vague blue eyes were hard to get a read on, but despite his seemingly innocent frame, Ozzy could tell that this doll had some pretty dark things to tell.
The taller doll stood by him in a motherly fashion. 'Chucky,' Ozzy silently read out words upon the tattoo of a heart on the breast of said doll. Nice, look at her. Bringing back the name and heart tat! She seemed a mix of dark and light; a white bride's dress, golden blonde hair, and light green eyes with mascara and feathery lashes, worked together with the painted black fingernails and lips and dark heel boots to create a visade of Gothic beauty. The little mole above the right side of her lip couldn't have been something that came standard with the doll, it was just too….human like. Her entire look was like a disguise for the sinister soul that lies within. At any given moment, the innocent looking persona of the bride would break down and make way for an animalistic demeanor; something that was dead set on killing all for the name of love even if it was intentionally misguided or misplaced.
"Lottie!" she cried out, her voice shrill and angel like, as she rushed over to her and wrapped her tightly in a hug.
"Hi mom," Lottie hugged her back, tapping the taller doll's back when she felt the squeezing becoming too tight. The bride began feeling around her daughter's face.
"How was it? Are you hurt? If so, where?" Lottie playfully batted her mother's hands away.
"I'm fine. I'm ok. Everything went smoothly," she laughed, "I'm just not sure how you and dad do it. Going about in the mail like that. The box was so small, how are you supposed to breathe?"
"Dolls aren't supposed to breathe Lottie…."
Ozzy's head shot around at the voice of the unseen speaker. It wasn't the bride, Lottie, Glenda, or the silent doll in the purple turtleneck. It was difficult to describe, not in a sense where words couldn't be used, but in the sense where it was too unsettling to even think about. Deep and demonic mixed with the aftertaste of dark humor.
Sitting on the top of a stack of crates was a Good Guy doll or rather what little could be described as such. It's plastic skin on its face and hands was stickered with messy leather stitches holding the demented form together. The flashy rainbow colored shirt and overalls were tattered and torn in some places. The hair for some reason, was maintained, as if it was tended to on a regular basis. Wavy, red, and lengthy like an angel of death. Ozzy never knew of the hype the Good Guy dolls had back in the 80s when they were released, but he did know that they along with the very toy company that created them were shut down for a reason….and perhaps maybe this was it. The demented Good Guy doll uncrossed his legs and stood up before leaping off the crate stack. He embraced Lottie and kissed her forehead affectionately.
"I am proud of you though," he chuckled. Lottie smiled back proudly, thanking him.
Ozzy felt walled in within the dolls, them surrounding him in a small semi circle. The Good Guy doll narrowed his eyes at him and tilted his head to the side.
"Yes…." he muttered, taking a step towards Ozzy, who gasped and backed away slightly.
"Mr….Lottie's dad?" he whimpered.
"That would be me. And judging by the look on your face, I can tell you like the stitches," the Good Guy doll traced over a couple of the leather strings on his cheek, "Pretty metal, right? Nice dreads by the way, I kind of wanted some just like that but wife disapproves." He glanced over at the bride doll and winked. She shook her head at him playfully.
"Who are you and how do you know me?" Ozzy asked. The Good Guy doll snickered.
"Why, I'm Chucky….maybe you heard of me? Most people have. Can you imagine that? Never being able to look at a Good Guy doll the same again."
"No….I don't think I have," Ozzy slowly shook his head. Chucky raised an eyebrow.
"Wait, seriously? You know, 'the killer doll'? What about that one newspaper article, 'Barclay child blames series of killings on doll'? Or the one, 'Good Guy doll, Chucky, possessed by deceased serial killer's soul'?"
Again, Ozzy shook his head.
"Oh come on! That made the front page!" Chucky stomped his foot. Ozzy awkwardly looked around at the other dolls around him.
"What about them?" he asked motioning to Chucky's wife and kids.
"The fam," Chucky said, putting his hands around the shorter male doll dressed in purple, "My son; Glen."
"Konichiwa," Glen bowed. Odd, he spoke Japanese, yet his voice was English accented.
"Yeah, he's the weird one," Glenda jumped in, "He thinks he's a samurai."
"Ronin," coughed Glen, "I'm a ronin, samurai with no master." He pulled his turtleneck over his mouth as if to illustrate a point. Glenda shook her head.
"Oh, my poor insane twin…."
"You already met my daughters, Glenda and Lottie," Chucky motioned to the two girls. Lottie remained silent while Glenda wrapped herself around Ozzy's leg.
"C'mon Dreadie. Say my name, say my name, what's my name?" Glenda nuzzled his shin. Ozzy shook his leg slightly in an attempt to get her off, but she clung to him like glue. Chucky laughed at this.
"Hell knows what this girl's gonna bring home when she starts dating," He then turned to the bride doll, "And this is Tiffany."
Tiffany put a finger to her mouth, as if scanning over Ozzy carefully. "It's been so long since we had a guest." As gentle as that sounded, it didn't sit well with Ozzy. There was definitely a hidden malice behind the harmonious saint like voice Tiffany possessed.
"And you're Osborne Wilkes, I believe," Chucky smirked, "Truth be told, I was expecting you to be a bit more older….but hey, you look to be a chill kind of guy so I'll settle for that."
"You're talking to me like I have a clue what's going on," Ozzy said, impatiently, "I've had a bad night. Some guy breaks into my apartment, tries to kill me, then I get held hostage by a doll I got in the mail which happens to be alive."
"I have a name you know," Lottie folded her arms.
"Do you have the birthmark?" Chucky asked, unfazed by anything Ozzy just said. Ozzy flashed it before him. Chucky nodded with a 'hmm mmm'.
"What's so important about this, anyway?" Ozzy covered his wrist back up with his sleeve, "It's just a fugly mark."
"Oh, it's much more than that," Chucky said, "Do you believe in magic, Ozzy?"
"I'm in the company of a family of supernaturally sentient dolls. I think I'm becoming a believer."
"Good, it will be easier to explain," Chucky reached up and grabbed his hand, Ozzy resisted a bit in his plastic grasp of manish strength, "This birthmark you got here is the Eye of Damballa." Ozzy blinked.
"The what of what?"
"Ozzy how do you think I am….like this? How do you think we're all living as dolls?"
"Um….you're demons summoned from another plane? You're dark manifestations of humanity's blackest desires? Or maybe you were just born with rare mutations?"
"Fuck….no," Chucky mentally facepalmed, "Just…I can't even begin to piece together how wrong you just were." Ozzy shrugged.
"I read a lot of fantasy and sci-fi," he said.
"I rather like the demons theory," chimed in Lottie. Glenda agreed with her.
"Magic, Ozzy," Chucky put in simply, "It's all voodoo magic of Damballa. You should know, you're the Acolyte after all."
"There it is again," pointed Ozzy, "Acolyte, what is that?"
"You, you dense ass," laughed Chucky, "See, up there, there's more than one god. Damballa is the voodoo god of death, the serpent he's sometimes known as. I wouldn't call myself a worshipper of him, I don't bow to anyone, just a buyer of his product; everlasting life."
"That's how you're a doll then…." Ozzy put two and two together.
"Nothing like changing bodies like gym uniforms, right? I say the magic words, he appears to me, and plays switcheroo with my soul. But the chant I know doesn't summon him entirely. Every generation or so, an Acolyte is born. Think of them as like a living bridge between Damballa and us. You can bring Damballa here, Ozzy." Ozzy resisted the urge to bite his nails.
"What happens then?"
"You read sci-fi. I'm sure you can picture the worse case scenario of an apocalypse." Chucky seemed too eager to answer that question.
"I…." Ozzy needed to process this, "I didn't know…."
"The shadow men seem to know." Lottie said, and presented the dagger she got from the episode at the apartment to her dad.
"Damn, Lottie," he whistled, holding the blade, "What is this, like your fifth one this week?"
"Seventh, beat my record," smiled Lottie.
"Shadow men? Is that what they are?" questioned Ozzy.
"It's what we call them since they always dress in black," explained Lottie.
"Who are they?"
"The Order of the Serpent," Chucky muttered, resentment in his voice, "They've been on our asses for a year now….and guess when we found you so did they….fucking cult."
"What would they want with you?"
"Aside from standing in their way of getting to you, it's….personal." Chucky was purposeful in staying in the dark about it.
"Lottie said that you wanted me alive," Ozzy glanced at the youngest Ray child, "Are you trying to protect me from them? Is that why you brought me here?"
Chucky and his family paused in perfect synchronization. They all giggled at first before throwing their head backs in laughter. All except Glen, who simply hung his head and turned away briefly.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, no," Chucky's laughter stopped as did his family's almost at the exact same time, "You fucking kidding? Ozzy, you're the Acolyte of Damballa, you're a gold mine of voodoo magic. I'm gonna use you summon Damballa! He'll give me anything I want! Maybe even make me his Death King, how knows? I'm not passing that up! I can set my family and I up for life!" Ozzy felt his stomach drop. Perhaps that was all the hope he had just lost.
"So….you're just going to kill me anyway!?"
"Not now, at least," Chucky said, Ozzy seemed used to getting that answer, "I need you alive for now for the soul transfer. Right now you probably have no idea how to summon Damballa , but I do. If I were you, and I will be soon, I'd have already done it," Chucky then pulled out an amulet of some kind from his overalls. At least what was left of one, it was a pendent of stone with a red gemstone of some kind in the center; the center which was split down in half, "This is the Heart of Damballa, I need it for soul transfers. Unfortunately, the last time we butted heads with the Order of the Serpent, they stole the other half. The Heart is broken until I get it back."
Broken Heart! Ozzy blinked in surprise as another bell in his head was rung. The stranger from his dream had spoken of a broken heart….
"What happens now?" he pitifully asked, head lowering slowly.
"From now on, you're with us. You can try running, but if it wasn't already obvious, you probably won't get anywhere far from us. I can tell you, it's not exactly easy pickings running with sliced ankles...or throat. But let's just say that somewhere in a parallel universe you do somehow kill us all and leave. Where will you go, Ozzy? You'll have the Order of the Serpent to live with, they can find you faster than we did. Right now, they're probably ripping your apartment a new asshole trying to find you." Chucky folded his arms mockingly.
"Do you really think they're doing that?" Ozzy asked with newfound dread.
"They know where you live, don't they?" Ozzy's mouth dropped and his hand quickly flew over it.
"Shauna…." he whispered.
"Huh?"
"Shauna!"
"Who's Shauna?" Chucky asked.
"My girlfriend." Glenda's head immediately shot up.
"Say what now?" she seethed.
"So?" Chucky snorted.
"They'll….know!" Ozzy shouted, "They'll know where she lives and goes to school! I have her picture and class schedule on my fridge!"
"Oh well," shrugged Chucky, "Sucks to be her then, doesn't it?"
"Won't they come after her!?"
"Pretty sure they'll do much more than just that. They might kill her entire family just to get to you." Chucky was beyond calm when he said this.
"We...we gotta go get her! She's in danger!" cried Ozzy.
"No, we don't!" chimed Glenda, "It's ok, Ozzy, she's just one girl! There's more fish in the sea!"
"What Glenda said," Chucky motioned to his daughter, "Besides, I already busted my balls finding and I can tell many more balls are going to be busted while you're here. What do you think we are, a fucking rescue time?"
"Well, you did save me," pointed out Ozzy. Chucky frowned.
"Yeah, because you matter right now! She doesn't mean shit!"
"She means shit to me!"
"Still, fuck no! Just let her go, it isn't going to matter soon anyway!"
Ozzy trembled where he stood. In a burst of speed and adrenaline he swiped out and snatched the dagger from Chucky's grasp. Ozzy held the knife over his own chest, the tip of the blade pointed downward to his rapidly beating heart. Chucky angrily held his hand out.
"Don't!" he yelled.
"We get Shauna or else!" Ozzy lowered the tip to the point where he could feel it balancing on his shirt. Chucky's brows furrowed.
"Fine! Do it! We don't really need you!"
"I think you do!" challenged Ozzy, "If I die then sure, you can't be a Death King, whatever the fuck it is. But you don't have anywhere to go like me. The Order of the Serpent will still want your ass! You and your family's! Granted they won't be able to end the world anymore, but they'll still end you! You need me alive for that soul transfer, right?"
"..." Chucky's lowered in thought.
"We get Shauna or I die," repeated Ozzy. Chucky glanced over at Tiffany, who shrugged and nodded her head at him. Glen and Lottie shadowed this as well, only Glenda was against it. Shaking her head viciously at her dad.
"Yeah….ok," Chucky muttered, "We get Shauna…"
Ozzy was satisfied. He dropped the dagger at Chucky's feet.
"We're going now," he said, "I have a car outside." Ozzy turned heel back towards the doors of the warehouse. The family of dolls followed him closely.
"So….this lady friend of yours," Glenda continued to walk the closest by him, "Is it like an open relationship?"
"Glenda, do your hormones know no bounds?" mused Lottie, pacing at Ozzy's other side.