AN: Special shout out to CharlotteRay for the beautiful, beautiful cover she has blessed us with and the OC who continues to grace this fanfic with her presence. Also, got a little mini game in this chapter for y'all. Spot the Always Sunny references. If you don't watch Always Sunny, that's totally ok. As the cashier at Binny's always says when I pick up my special order, enjoy.
Ivan Burton was never a man of prayer, be it silent or verbal. His sermons were usually "practical" whenever he needed to address the Order of the Serpent. The sacred order he had governed himself for nearly 200 years. You didn't think that the middle aged man with grey highlights he had chosen to possess was his first body, did you
The Deacon never had a true church establishment. The state or country as a whole would probably disagree with the ethics of a religion which required human sacrifice daily. Burton had chosen a four leveled manor, with a portion of the Lake Michigan beach as his back yard. A poet had once lived in that house, and Cook County had it registered as a landmark. That's what Burton got, snatching the body of a wealthy model citizen of the lakeshore. Only a selected few of his Shadowmen were allowed to stay with him. He knows some degree of magic, obviously, appears as an older man, has devote followers, really the only thing he was missing was a mastery in alchemy and a laboratory. Then he could've been a full on Rasputin.
He sat alone in the room overlooking the beach. The other half of the Heart of Damballa was clenched in his grip as he ran his thumb over the red gemstone. It felt cold and frosty to the touch. If he had the other half, the one in his disgraced apprentice's possession, it would emit such heat if pressure was applied it would leave red burns on his fingerprints. In his other hand was a cigarette, fourth one of the day.
"Your Holiness." a church member of much less significant status suddenly stood at his side, his posture not breaking once. Burton didn't look up. That was to be expected, he never looked his Shadowmen in the eyes. Gives them the idea that they're equals and that is a very dangerous idea to have.
"I thought I told you to never call me that...there is nothing 'Holy' about what we do, son." Had you heard his voice in a pitch black room, then your first guess would be a demon.
"Forgiveness," the Shadowman bowed his head, "We've heard back from the ones in California."
"Hmmm." Was all Burton had to say, urging him to continue.
"Our numbers out there have certainly…lessened." He couldn't see it, but Burton was smirking.
"That is to be expected. Praise is in order, but it's not you who will be receiving it."
"Oh, we will be in time, Deacon." The Shadowman produced a cubed shaped parcel from under his apparel. One so small, you could hold it in one hand. Burton bothered to raise his glance to it. The Shadowman removed the lid. Inside packed with bubble wrap, the one with the really small bubbles that are no fun at all, was an Iphone 5.
"The gesture is appreciated, barely," he said, scoffing, "I already have one."
"This came from our California agents, it belonged to the Acolyte's consort, Deacon." The Shadowman quickly explained. Here, Burton quickly pocketed the Heart and rose from where he sat, tossing what little remained of the cigarette to the floor.
"The Acolyte has a consort? This is an interesting development," he said, "But what significance is this to me? You don't expect us to just call him up, do you?"
"No, no, Deacon," the Shadowman shook his head, "We now know where he is." He powered on the phone and swiped past the lock screen. Shauna didn't have a passcode, she found them unnecessary. In a way, she was the passcode because the only way to get her phone from her is to pry it from her cold dead hands.
The Shadowman opened the 'find my iphone' app on the homescreen. Shauna had downloaded it as Ozzy did too. Not for the sake for stalking each other but for the event in which a drug deal was sketchy. He selected the number under 'Ozzy' and the map screen began to load. It opened to the North Shore and the city, not too far away. A blue pin appeared on the Ryan expressway with Ozzy's name above it as it moved towards the city. Burton snatched the phone from him.
"He's come home," the Deacon smirked, "He's come home and he's brought the Acolyte right to me."
"Should we converge on him?" the Shadowman asked. Burton lowered the phone as he paced around.
"No. You see, it's not getting the Acolyte which will be difficult. It will be taking him from my former apprentice. He's twice the killer than you and your brothers will ever be."
"What do you propose, Deacon?"
"Tell me, my son, are you familiar with how the electric chair works?"
"It shocks you," the Shadowman said simply, "It shocks you until your heart bursts in your chest."
"You're correct and incorrect," Burton mused, "You see, it actually shocks you twice. The first shock is to paralyze you. This is so you can't fight back or struggle. You're helpless as the second and final shock hits you. This is the killing blow. And it's not your heart that bursts, it's your brain ceasing operation before telling your heart to shut it down for good."
"Your point is made vividly, Deacon."
"You see? We must send our first shock."
"Just say the word, Deacon, your Shadowmen are ready."
"No Shadowmen are necessary, my son," Burton waved him off, "In fact, I think it's time to introduce my former apprentice to my new apprentice...get me Ms. LaGarrette.
"This is the place?" Shauna glanced out the passenger window as Ozzy parked the car out in front of the decrypted old home. Well, home implies that someone lives there. But no one does, at least not anymore. Chucky had seen to that. This house had the traditional Chicago style brickwork, done rather cheaply. From the outside, you would never guess that it had a second floor. The back and front yard was littered with trash, some neatly packed in white trash bags forming mounds or just strewn about the Earth. Such was common in areas of southern Chicago.
They had come to a section of the South Side from the airport. The drive through the city could've been more enjoyable for Ozzy and Shauna, had Chucky not spent the entire ride pointing out every place he committed a murder(s) of some sort and then monologuing about it. They haven't even been to Chicago and it was already ruined for them.
A notable location Chucky seemed to have an extended commentary on was an apartment complex a little way from Grant Park. A site of a triple rape homicide. Chucky had no part in the act itself, but was rather a member of the cleaning crew. The murder was courtesy of his old partner in crime, Eddie Capullo and Felicia. Felicia was Tiffany's older sister.
Back in the time of old when men were bold, Chucky and Tiffany tried their hands at matchmaking. They hooked Eddie up with Felicia in hopes that he would stop third wheeling them. Felicia had just flown in for a visit. Yes, she was aware of who her sister was dating and what they do. She wasn't indifferent about it. When they were young, their parents divorced. Their mother got Tiffany while their father got Felicia, he got second pick. He wasn't a good father, that's all I'll say. If I wanted to sit around and write tragic backstories, I'd sign up for DeviantArt. That aside, Eddie and Felicia. It started out ok, Eddie stopped bugging Chucky and Tiffany all the time. Then they got really into exhibtionism and there was this steady but constant crescendo into swinger parties and ultimately positive VD examinations. And the whole time Eddie was screwing the waitresses at Ed Debevic's. Wait...no, that's a terrible fanfiction idea, don't run with that.
Ozzy was sure to lock the rental Mustang as he, his girlfriend and the Rays got out, pressing the lock button the keys three times exactly as he counted in his head. He pocketed the keys then sniffed.
"Smells like home," he commented. Being a section eight regular, he wasn't a total stranger to lifestyle the former occupant had been stuck with. Pretty sure Chucky was familiar with it too. The slasher crossed his arms as he scanned the property. It was surreal for him, last time he was here was and seemed so long ago.
"This is the place," he affirmed, "Jon's shack. Whatever Burton didn't teach me, I learned here."
"Jon?" Ozzy felt a secondhand sting of memory on the back of his head. That name...where have I heard that before.
"My voodoo instructor," said Chucky.
"How's this house still here?" Shauna asked.
"This land's value is practically nothing," Chucky explained, "Plus no one wants to live here anyway. Some of the locals think that it's cursed too. Honestly, if a Haitian witch doctor moved into your neighborhood would you believe in that superstition shit?" Ozzy shrugged.
"There's a scientologist that lives one floor below me, I think he's the closest thing we got to a witch doctor. So, what are we doing at a witch doctor's trap?"
"Jon had a shitload of voodoo paraphernalia. If we're lucky maybe he had the Soul of Damballa or maybe a lead on where it might be."
While the Rays quickly made their way to Jon's doorstep, Ozzy and Shauna lagged behind and met them halfway. Ozzy tugged at the door knob, locked. Chucky came forward and kicked it a couple times but to no avail. The knob was one of those old time brass ovals with a keyhole above it.
"Glenda," Chucky commanded. His oldest daughter pulled out a hairpin, previously unseen, probably because her frizzy hair is so freaking dense. She stuck it in the keyhole, rotated it a little then slammed it down. A loud click was heard and the door opened as it should..
"Wow, where did you learn to do that?" Ozzy was a bit impressed.
"I practiced on your room at the motel, Dreadie," Glenda said with a smile too big for her own face, "No skill needed. I just slam it in and break the lock mechanism." Ozzy remained silent. If anything was done to him while he slept...he really didn't want to know about.
"Why is it that every time you open your mouth, I'm just itching to punch you in the box." Shauna growled.
"Fight me, bitch." Glenda attempted to square up to here, but it just didn't work.
"Save this fuck shit for later," Chucky waved them off and invited them in the house. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he was wooed by the fact that Shauna didn't show fear at them, the same could be said for Ozzy.
The interior was only lit by the sunlight through the windows, or at least where they used to be. There was one window in the kitchen area that was unbroken though. The first floor occupied most of the space and there was a basement. The second floor was simply a staircase that lead up to a bedroom and bathroom (the only one in the house). Nearly everything in the house had collected dust and fallen into disrepair. No water, electricity or heating. The temperature inside depended entirely on what the weather person forecasted. Chucky wasn't wrong about the voodoo paraphernalia. This place was a treasure trove of relics. Paintings, dolls, ceremonial dressing, all either propped on a piece of furniture, hidden in drawers or just laying on the floor. Jon's body was of course not there anymore. Shortly after Chucky killed him the CPD had discreetly removed it, but there was still traces of dried blood stained on the dusty carpet.
"Ok," Chucky whistled, "This is going to take some scavenging."
"Oh!" Glenda pulled down Ozzy's hand, "Me and Dreadie will search the bedroom! I bet we'll find something there."
"Glenda, no," her dad interjected.
"Glenda, yes. C'mon, Dreadie."
"Shouldn't I have a say in this?" Ozzy aimlessly asked. Chucky, with effort, separated Glenda from him.
"You're searching upstairs with Lottie and that's all she wrote," he told her.
"Fuck that! Why?"
"Because she's the only thing close to a sitter we have for you at the moment."
"I'm six years older than her!"
"In body maybe," Glen couldn't help but insert himself in this quarrel, "In mind, though, you're still in your salad days." He had some leverage here, he was after all older than his twin, at least by a couple of minutes. Glenda feigned, or at least let's hope so, offense.
"Mom! Glen just called me a salad!"
Tiffany rested her forehead in her hand. Normally, she tried her best to not take sides, but when it came to Glenda it was tricky. Not because she never supported her, she loves her children to death, but sometimes the situations conjured up by Glenda are usually...well, stupid.
"Lottie, sweetie, will you and Glenda please go upstairs? We got a house to search, please help us help you," she said sweetly.
"We got it, mom," Lottie said and headed to the second floor. "Let's go, salad," she called to Glenda, who just folded her arms and tailed her younger sister.
"I'm up to here right now," Glenda gestured her hand above her head, "I am up to here."
"Fantastic," Chucky nodded, "Glen, I need something of you."
"You want me to search the bathrooms, right?" his only son asked rhetorically. That was a pretty good guess, his father usually leaves him to do tasks like that in hopes it will make his stomach stronger. Serial killer lesson number one; be disgusted with nothing.
"No, but let's keep that on the table," Chucky motioned to the window, "Go outside and rummage through any shit by the house. Leave no stone unturned, and I really do mean that. You find a stone out there, turn it over. Sometimes Jon would throw some of his wizard shit out." Glen glanced outside and the trash filled property. His dad might as well have told him to go dumpster diving.
"Yeah, dad, I'm not going to do that. I'm not frolicking in the rubbish for something that may not be there. I'm just going to look around here just like everyone else."
Chucky exhaled easily. Completely, calm and collected he made his way over to his son. As he passed by he effortlessly snatched Glen's tanto clean off his back. The blade was still in its sheath. Glen didn't have the chance to say anything, let alone react, as Chucky threw it through the one good window the house had. The glass shattered and a small thump was heard somewhere out in the yard.
"Son," Chucky said nonchalantly, "It looks like you left your little sword thing outside. You better go get it. And while you're out, could you look around too? The Soul of Damballa might be out there too. Be a good boy and sniff it out."
Glen didn't say anything at first. He did raise his index finger and open his mouth as if to say something, but no words came through. Sighing, he just slumped over to the front door. Before he shut it behind him, he raised his finger once more...then lowered it.
"Still a better dad than mine," Ozzy said. Insert horrible repressed memories of childhood here.
"Thank you, I try," Chucky smiled, "Now, Tiff, you and Shauna do a sweep of the first floor, while Ozzy and I do the basement."
"Wait, why am I going into the basement with you?" Ozzy glanced over at the open door on the opposite side of the room with a stairwell leading into a dark abyss. That's actually the last place you want to be with Chucky.
"Oh yeah, because there's a possibility that if Tiff and I go down there we're probably gonna start fucking right there on the spot. And time's sort of a factor here, so I don't think we have two hours."
"We probably would." Tiffany shrugged.
"W-why, though?" Shauna cringed.
"I'm sexually attracted to my wife," Chucky deadpanned, "Fuck me, right? Now, let's go, Ozzy. Down to the basement," he suddenly stopped right where he was, only inches from the stairs, "Holy shit…."br /"What?" Ozzy gasped.
"Wow...this is the first time someone's accompanying me to a basement...and I have no intention of killing them...fuck," Chucky put a hand to his head, "This...this feels weird as shit...mmm. Tiff, does this feel weird to you?"
"Yeah," his wife subtly nodded, "It does. It does feel pretty weird."
Glen grumbled to himself as he cleared another leaky bag of trash out of his way. Two more years. Two more years, he kept telling himself. While he could admit to himself that his future was unclear, he knew as a fact it wouldn't involve his family a whole lot. As soon as he turns eighteen, he's out. What he would do and where he would go wasn't set in stone but he did hope to go traveling. Now in his doll body, sneaking on and off flights or ships was like having priority access. If he could manage getting from England to LA than the sky was the limit. He'd always thought about going to Japan. But not in a weeaboo way. In a 'I'm going to start a new life there way. Once all this is over, the whole world is waiting for him. Glen loved his family dearly, his mother, father and siblings, he'd die for them. It's not the killing that bothers him, he could avoid it, it's the metaphorical descent to darkness. Whenever his father went out and did something, something far worse was to follow and Glen didn't know if he could take it. Everyday he drags his family down into the grave he has created for himself and this whole thing is proof of that.
"There you are," Glen sighed and dusted off his sheathed tanto then hugged it to his chest. His once rapid breathing became calm as he rocked back and forth where he sat in the dirty soil. He closed his eyes and kissed the hilt of his blade.
Ok, we just got one more step, Glenda. C'mon work with us, here."
Once upon a flashback, we see a fifteen year old Glen Tilly heading up to the second level of their Hollywood mansion. His girlfriend, Julie, was at his side. Well she was to his side. In between them, was a deeply inebriated Glenda, like her mind might as well has been displaced in another universe. She had her arms around her brother and his girlfriend as they assisted her drunk ass up to her room. Her head was dropped down and occasionally she smacked her lips for no particular reason.
"Huh...wazit?" she slurred.
"Come on, Glenda," Julie said supportively, "One more step and you can rest." Glenda's head suddenly shot up.
"Holy Shit, Julie!" she yelled, "Since when did you get here?"
"I've been here since the beginning of the party…"
"Party! Oh, I love parties! What's the occasion?" By now, Julie and Glen were able to heave Glenda up the last step. She was upright, but that doesn't mean her legs were working.
"Glen's birthday." Glenda gasped.
"OMG! Happy Birthday, Glen! Oh, he's a jolly good fellow. Oh, he's a jolly good fellow...wait...if it's your birthday...then doesn't that mean it's also mine!? Yes! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me!"
Yes, what we're witnessing is the aftermath of the twin's fifteenth birthday. While Glen insisted on a nice little get together at their house. Glenda saw fit to throw the biggest rager this section of LA has ever seen. Roughly, a quarter of their class showed up. Within a couple of minutes, a group of 15 sophomores and juniors evolved into an army of 75. It started out as your standard birthday party, then people started bring in booze, a pong table was set up, some girl brought her older brother who was a DJ. It was a spectacle, and things went from 1 to 10 really fast. In fact, Chucky made a celebrity appearance. He just sort of paraded about the party. No one questioned him and if they did, he either told them that he was a relative of the guy who played Mini-Me who was in a horrible, horrible car accident on account of the stitches. But more often than not he just convinced them that he was a hallucination due to the bath salts that were slipped into their drinks (whether or not bath salts were used has yet to be confirmed by Glenda or himself). Apparently it was a special occasion for Chucky too, because he set up his own codeine mini bar. His killing spree that night had led him to a pharmacy, so he took what he could get. He was seen later in the night at the pong table catching fire, much to the admiration of all the party goers. He is now affectionately called, 'the Kyle Korver of rut.' Tiffany, or rather Jennifer Tilly, was present along with Lottie, but they spent their time mostly in the house, making sure shit didn't get broken.
Glen, Julie. Glen, Julie, Glen, Julie." Glenda does what she does best and begged for attention as Glen and Julie situated her in her bed. Following the protocol, setting her on her side, putting a trash can next to her, not that she would be needing it. Throughout the party, Glenda would constantly go inside to pull trig. It'd be surprising if she had anything left to upchuck.
Glen, Julie. Julie, Glen-"
"What!?" Glen snapped, "What? We're right here."
"...are you two going to bang tonight?" Glen face palmed while Julie blushed madly, hiding her face behind her hand.
"Jaysus Christ, Glenda."
"No, really, Glen. I want to know...you smashing tonight? Julie you giving this boy something spesh tonight? Gonna be real harsh down south?"
"Glenda, stop it," her brother pulled her covers over her and tucked her in, "You've really tested your limits tonight. Get some rest, or the hangover tomorrow really is going to suck." He placed a pillow under her head, cool side up. Glenda sighed as he let herself sink into her bed.
"That's better, right?"
"Mmmm, sure…" Glenda yawned, her mouth reeked of Captain Morgan and beer. Julie and Glen got up to leave her to her sleep.
"Hey Glen," his twin called out.
"Yeah, sis?"
"I just...I just love you so much...right now. You're a phenamom...phenanimal…" she struggled here, "phenomenal brother." Glenda has reached the final stage of her particular enbraitation, first comes belligerence then comes aggressive support, then finally warm cuddliness. Glen smiled.
"I love you, too, sis." Drunk rambling or not it was nice to hear her say that.
"You be good to him, Julie," Glenda then called to the other girl in the room, "He's one of a kind...you won't find a guy like him anywhere else. He's just-he's just such a swell guy."
"Sure, sure," Julie nodded, "Of course." She wasn't used to dealing with drunk people but at least Glenda made it easy.
"Ok, G'night, Glenda." Glen closed the door behind them.
"Right…" Glenda waved, "You get some sleep too, handsome man."
Sighing in relief, Glen and Julie made their way downstairs. They had a couple of minutes before Julie's mom or dad would pick her up. Sitting outside didn't seem like an option, the yard or what little was left of it was completely demolished. Gardens uprooted, bottles and cans littered about...it was a good party. So instead they settled for the couch in the living room, but before Julie went into the coat room and came out with a wrapped present.
"What's that?" Glen asked her as she sat down next to him.
"Happy Birthday, Glen!" Julie kissed his cheek and put the present in his lap, "I was waiting until after the party to give this to you. When it would be just us."
"Awww, luv," Glen put his arms around her and pulled her in, giving her a peck on the forehead, "That's so sweet."
"Open it," Julie insisted, "you'll love it."
Glen did so, tearing the paper down the middle and removing it from the box. Inside, cushioned against foam, was a little sheathed blade. The hilt was smooth and marble like, while the sheath was glossy black. So glossy you could see your reflection.
"Julie...is this?" Glen took the blade out of its sheath. The metal grazed against each other, making that really satisfying sound whenever a weapon is drawn. Shing, I think it goes.
"It's a tanto!" Julie said, "It's like a katana, but smaller." Glen picked up a piece of the wrapping paper and glided the blade across. Not even the littlest of pressure was applied and it still cut like butter. No, way more easier than that.
"I," Glen grinned as he held it, "I don't know what to say...I love it, but isn't it a bit much?" Julie smiled and shook her head.
"No, I think it's just right," she said, "I know you don't collect weaponry. And I know you're a pacifist. But I just always thought of you as well...my hero," Glen tilted his head as he put the tanto back in it's sheath, "I used to be afraid, you know. Afraid to put myself out there, afraid to show my face, even afraid to speak...but then I met you. Joining the Anime club is a big, big deal. You put your reputation, what everyone thinks of you on the line just so you could appreciate the things you love and be around people like you. And then you come along, Jennifer Tilly's son, you join up like it's nothing. Like you have no one to please or disappoint. You just do yourself despite what anyone tells you." Julie shifted herself onto him, laying him down on his back while she put her head on his chest. His heart was fluttering against her ear.
"But I love you most of all because you make room in your crazy celebrity life for little ol' me," she laughed, "Look at us, we're just two weeaboos falling in love." Glen brushed his forehead against hers.
"In love," he corrected, "We've already fallen." Julie giggled and leaned in for a kiss. Glen gladly returned it, holding her head while gently caressing her back. Julie had her hands flattened on his chest where her head had once been. The kiss wasn't intense or heated. It was a smooth and soft closed mouth lip embrace. When they separated, Julie nuzzled the crook of his neck.
"I love you, Glen," she whispered, "I love you so much."
"Love you too, Julie," Glen sighed lovingly, "Guess I'm your Samurai, huh?" He could feel Julie's warming breathing on his neck.
"Samurai...who would be your master then?" she asked.
"Huh?"
"Samurai always have masters. Someone who teaches them the ways of honor and peace...do you have someone like that?" Glen paused. Honestly, he didn't have to think long on it.
"No...I guess I don't," he said, "My mom did what she could, but sometimes we can't help butting heads on certain things...and my dad...well if he was around, I'm not sure what he would have to offer." The Ray kids had to get their story straight for the public; Ms. Tilly was a single mother.
"No master then...that would make you a Ronin," said Julie.
"Ronin?"
"Yeah, Ronin. Samurai with no master." Glen laughed. It was funny because it was true. He cupped her cheek.
"Ronin it is, then."
"私のロニン" (My Ronin?)
"あなたのロニン." (Your Ronin)
Glen wiped the tear from his plastic face. His grip on the tanto had only gotten tighter. He took long breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart, the kind you get from excessive sobbing. He then secured his blade over his shoulder once more and stood up.
The oldest Ray curled his hand into a fist and beat it twice against his chest. No flinching or gasping, just taking the blows with authority. Ronin. Ronin. Repeated fiercely in his mind. After the final beat, he lowered his hands to his side. His breathing subsided and he felt once more at peace, remembering that he is his own master.
"I'm ok...I'm good," Glen breathed. He would've returned back to Jon's house, had it not be for the low growl from behind him.
"Wha?"
A stray mastiff, stood with its back arched, teeth bared and brow furrowed. Judging by the foam around this monster's mouth, it probably wasn't a well dog. Yeah, the red eyes couldn't have been from cannabis and the way it spasmed sure as hell wasn't the high setting in. Glen gulped.
"Nice, doggy...nice-" The dog barked maliciously, spit flew from its maw in all directions while the foam continued to puddle at it's paws.
"Look, I'm just going to-" Glen attempted to walk past it, but the dog simply wasn't having it. It walled him in, blocking every direction possible. It then leaned on its hind legs as if it was getting ready to pounce.
"I'm sorry…." and Glen reached for his tanto.
Ozzy was more invested in the desk he was examining on the far side of the basement level. A partner desk made of antique pine wood. The handles on the drawers were brassy and reeked of rusted metal. The worst kind of scent, you touch it then your hand smells like it. Even though a thick layer of dust covered it, the surface was smooth. Ozzy ran his hand over it.
Other than that, the basement didn't have much objects of interest. One furnace that had fallen into disuse and broken or discarded junk in boxes that cluttered the cement floor.
"Hey Chucky, did you-" Much to Ozzy's uneasiness, Chucky was nowhere to be seen. C'mon it was already spooky enough surveying the dimmed cellar, but at least Chucky was visible in his peripheral vision. Ozzy glanced around in cluelessness.
"Chucky…" he moaned, "Don't do this, I scare easy….Chucky?"
"AHH!" the moment Ozzy turned back to the desk, Chucky was standing on it. The slasher yelped out and lunged at him.
"Fuck! Shit!" Ozzy jumped back. Chucky pointed and laughed.
"Hahaha, that never gets old."
"C'mon, that shit ain't cool."
"Hey, just making sure you're still afraid," Chucky shrugged, "Now, while you were over here, molesting this desk, I tore this place apart. The amulet ain't here." Ozzy popped open a couple of the drawers.
"Well, I haven't checked here...so…" when he got to the bottom drawer, his eyes lit up, "Oh!"
"What? You find it?"
"No...even better."
From the drawer Ozzy produced a pipe of some sort. It was a pretty standard bowl by the looks of it. What was so unstandard about it was the fact it was carved from ivory. emMoment of silence for the elephant that gave its life for our smoking pleasure. The bowl was a couple centimeters deep while the body had sort of archaic symbols cut into it. The tip was fashioned into a snake head. It's mouth was closed and the hole was between its lips, taking a hit made it look like the user was kissing the snake. Chucky snickered at it.
"Jon, you fucking rascal, you." Ozzy breathed in through the pipe. For something so old, the air flow was consistent and easy, what every stoner looks for.
"I don't suppose that somewhere in that voodoo religion you got, there's any mention of a bowl with magical properties, is there?"
"Not that I'm aware of, no." Chucky shook his head. Ozzy smirked.
"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" The Acolyte took a cross legged on the basement floor. He brought out his bag and the all wonderful musk of ganja was unchained. Ozzy checked his one lighter too, flicking it on and off as the little flame danced. Chucky dropped down from the desk. Cat metaphor number three; he landed on his feet.
"Do you ever think of anything else besides getting high as shit all the time?" Ozzy was going through the ziplocks of varying strains.
"I think about whether or not I'm gonna make it out of this shit show we got going on here alive. Truthfully, I'm leaning to a happy ending. I want to live, you know? Living's something I like doing. Been doing it since I was a kid, really have a talent for it. I don't know how much longer we're gonna be in this together, but I'm going to be real weird with it. In the meantime, can you help me block this draft I'm feeling right now? I'm gonna roast this grass."
Chucky again shrugged and took a seat by him then snatched the ivory bowl from his hand.
"I'm onboard," he said, "But I get first drag and strain pick."
"Fair deal," nodded Ozzy, "So...what I got here, we got Child's Play, you're familiar with that, am I right?" He took a couple of selected bags containing quads.
"This one right here," he held up a bag, "'Hey Little Mama, Would You Like To Be My Sunshine' This is the stuff Shauna and I rip on date nights." Ozzy picked up another bag after placing it back down, "This one here is 'I Have A Paper Due In The Morning'. There's a few other variants I have of this like 'How Long Has That Door Been Open', and this other one called 'Down Goes Frazier'. Chucky chose the previously mentioned.
"Now pass me that bowl."
Tiffany was standing on the kitchen counter while Shauna was clearing out the drawers and cabinets. About a quarter of the way through, she stopped opening and closing them and just took them out of their sockets and dumping out the contents. They hadn't come across any amulet. Tiffany struggled a bit to get one cabinet above the counter open. It was either molded shut or it had one of those latch locks in place on the inside. Ozzy's girlfriend couldn't help but notice.
"Here." Shauna pulled at the stubborn door a couple times. No good. She sighed and simply ripped the door off it's hinges and discarded it to the floor. The hinges were so rusty that they tore like construction paper. That, and Shauna lifts.
"You're strong," Tiffany took the time to appreciate that.
"So I have been told," Shauna said, "I like to think that I'm just like every other girl, except I can press 120." They scanned the cabinet. The amulet wasn't there, just rusted food cans and a few rat skeletons. One of the rat skulls was actually in a spider web in the corner. The spider was long dead and left an egg sac behind, but it had already hatched. The two sighed in defeat, that was the last place they had to look.
"Hope they're having better luck in this place then we are," said Shauna, "Hey, Tiffany, can I ask you something?"
"Anything but my weight," smiled Tiffany.
"Where do you stand on this?" Shauna asked with sincerity, "This whole Acolyte prophecy thing. What could you possibly get from it? Because it seems like you're just following whatever Chucky says." Tiffany gracefully pushed herself off the counter.
"I think my Chucky knows what he's doing. There's never a time when we're in these situations and I doubt him. I don't care if the world lives or dies, as long as I'm with my husband and my children, I'm the happiest woman on Earth."
"So, you really have no other motives do you? You're not doing this to get back at the cult or that Burton guy Chucky is always talking about or just for the sake of killing a shit ton of people. You're just going the extra mile to please your husband."
"I tried living without him, it didn't work. Bringing him back was the best decision I ever made." And that might as well be Tiffany's main concern as well. It may not seem it, but she was actually in a really good place in her life. She's learned to stop wanting, because she simply has all she wants. It's hard to have desires when you've already done everything. In her life she's been a girl raised in a lower middle class, a trailer park chick and a celebrity. Oh, and let's not forget accomplice to a serial killer and maybe even a serial killer herself. But most of all, she's had the life of a mother, and that life is her favorite.
Speaking of her children, it was this time when Glen let himself back in through the front door. He was shaken up and was under the impression that no one else was in the room. He closed the door softly behind him before being greeted by his mother and Shauna.
"Oh.." his eyes fixated on them like a deer in headlights, "Hi mum...Shauna, hi. The um...amulet wasn't outside." He attempted to casually make his way to the stairs. Shauna and Tiffany couldn't see it, but his hand was clutching his left side. He walked directly against the wall to hide it, "Lottie and Glenda are upstairs, right? I'll just go help them out up there."
"Glen, sweetface, are you ok?" Tiffany asked her son. Glen forced a smile.
"Yes, yes, I'm completely fine. Just tripped on some rubbish out there...landed on my side...nothing to worry about," he was now at the stairs, "I'm gonna go upstairs now." And like that, he was up to the second floor hastily. Shauna gave Tiffany a funny look.
"What was all that about?"
Lottie was in the middle of cleaning out the chifferobe across the bed. Nothing there but various clothing that was molded to shit. There was a shirt of some kind that used to be yellow and was now brown. Part of it even came apart in her hand when she picked it up. There was only one more drawer to go. Lottie hoped to god that it wasn't the underwear one.
"Lottie!" Glenda suddenly emerged from beneath the bed holding something, "I found an old cassette tape under the mattress!" She held said item up proudly.
"So?"
"So? An old tape in a voodoo wizard's house? Who knows what could be on this thing? Maybe recordings of spells! Like one where you could unleash a plague of snakes! Or one that summons a demon! Or maybe one that gives you supernatural powers like talking to the dead or some shit! We're even looking at necromancy 101!"
"What if it's just some shameless mixtape of bubblegum pop music from the 80s?" said Lottie. Glenda's face dropped.
"Why can't you just let me have this moment for myself?"
"Hey, I'm not saying that it is mixtape, just that it might be. But I guess we'll never know since we don't have a tape player, which actually surprises me that I know what that is." She was born in 2007, can you blame her? Lottie would have eaten those words, because in that final drawer she didn't check was indeed a cassette tape player complete with headphones. Stars must've been aligned. Glenda grabbed it and took a seat on the floor.
"Yes! Ultimate power is mine!" she popped it in and tweaked with the player so it would work. It did have some degree of battery left in it. Apparently cassette players are pretty durable, I mean Star Lord has had his since the 70s, and he lives in outer space. Lottie just sighed and proceeded to do a sweep of the nightstands.
Unlike how he entered the house, Glen stormed right in, pushing the door out of his way and taking a seat on the bed. He poked at the mattress.
"Is this cotton? Great!" he withdrew his tanto and made a deep incision and took out a handful of the stuffing. He crushed into a big single clump then rolled up his shirt just above his belly button. Fun fact, Glen is the only one in his family who has a legit belly button. Since his doll body is the one he was born in. The side he had been clutching was in fact a bite mark. It wasn't deep and no muscle was torn, but it was still bleeding a thin stream of blood down his torso. Lottie saw this.
"My god, Glen," she jumped on the bed next to him, "What happened?"
"I had a tussle with a rabid stray outside, I had to put him down," Glen said putting the cotton on his wound, "Can you help apply pressure to this? It really feels like shite." Lottie pushed down on it, Glen groaned but eventually felt his body relax and the stinging went away.
"Why didn't you show mom this? You've been hurt." Lottie applied less pressure to let it air out. Glen breathed in relief.
"Because she would tell dad and then I would have to tell him I killed something. And the very last thing I want right now is the 'you're a killer like me, son, speech right now.'" He had reason here. Whenever Chucky told him that he's proud of him it usually means Glen did something he was ashamed of. And he really didn't like to be reminded of it. "Agh...thanks Lottie."
"You guys mind lowering the volume?" Glenda barked, slipping on the tape player headphones, "I got spells to learn and hexs to summon!"
"What's she on about?" Glen asked.
"She found this cassette tape that may have stuff on it," Lottie explained, "I think it's a mixtape though."
"Wait it's not?"
"No!" Glenda slammed her fists on the floor, "It's! Not! A! Fucking! Mixtape!" she pressed the play button and after a brief static she could hear the sound of tape reeling, "And I'll prove it to you!"
Glenda sat there for no more than 30 seconds while Glen and Lottie watched her. At first, Glenda nodded a couple of times then lowered her head into her hands as if in deep thought. She confirmed this state of deep thought by switching over to the thinker pose. After she had heard enough, she pressed the stop button then slowly removed the headphones.
"Well?" Lottie asked.
"It was the mixtape..."
"Ok so," Ozzy clapped his hands, "If we're gonna write a rock opera about your life, we need to start workshopping right now. What do you got?"
Chucky was lying down on his back with a leg crossed over the other. His other hand would be cushioning his head like the other one, but it was busy holding the cherrying bowl. "Alright, I'm thinking we draw curtain to a backdrop of the South Side. We begin with me getting run down by the fuzz. And not just one guy, I'm talking like an entire unit, there's a couple SWAT people too. And even one guy with an RPG. I want the audience to know that I'm a force to be reckoned with." Ozzy scribbled notes down on a blank page of his sketchbook.
"Nice, nice, that could work."
"I think that this would also be the perfect spot to segway into the first song. Because what the hell would a rock opera be without music."
"Of course, of course," Ozzy nodded, "Any ideas for that?"
"Yes, I have a song in mind. I kind of want to be the song which explains what my deal is. You know, why do I do what I do? I don't want to be the mysterious villain, I got no shit to hide."
"That's good, that's a good idea. The audience can sympathize with you. What would it be called?"
"Um, 'I like killing, blow me'. That's it, that's our first song right there."
"Alright...alright, I guess we could work on that sympathizing part later. We'll put that on hold."
"Also do you think it would be possible if we could extras that I can kill on stage? I kind of want to be singing while I'm killing, be great for dramatic effect. Also because I like a good tune while I'm working."
"I'm...gonna have to get back to you on that. Because I'm not entirely sure that is legal in theater or anywhere else. Meanwhile I got an idea for the next song. It's after you become a doll and meet Arnold."
"Andy, the kid's name was Andy."
"Yes, so this is gonna be the main villain song where you explain your nefarious plot to get that boy's hole."
"Ok, I can fuck with that. I like the concept, but could we back the fuck up for a moment? Because, I could've sworn you said 'boy's hole', but it's really his soul I need to get. You know, so that I can become him."
"Yeah, that's what I said," affirmed Ozzy, "Boy's hole. You're trying to get the boy's hole."
"You're fucking doing it again," pointed Chucky, "You're saying boy's hole."
"No, I'm saying soul. Boy's hole." Chucky pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Ok, say boy's."
"Boy's."
"Now say soul."
"Soul."
"Now say boy's soul."
"Boy's hole."
"Are you fucking with me right now, Ozzy?" Chucky sat up.
Ozzy put his hands up. "I'm just trying to run a writing workshop here, if you don't like my ideas we can scrap them."
"Ozzy," Shauna called from the stairs. Tiffany was with her too. They picked the perfect time to show up as we will soon find out. They stopped halfway down the steps when they got a whiff of the air. Ozzy waved.
"Squad meet up in the basement. You're both just in time. Chucky and I are writing a rock opera about him. We're at that part where he tries to get the boy's hole."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Chucky moved a hand to his forehead. While Shauna snickered, Tiffany put her hands on her hips.
"Oh, so you have time to get high with Ozzy and write a pornographic play but you don't have time for me?" she huffed, "And what's this I'm hearing about a boy's hole?" Oh god.
"Tiff, first off, that is untrue, I always have time for you." Chucky stood up, "Second, it's soul! For fuck's sake! He just says it as hole!" he pointed at Ozzy.
"Your words," Ozzy closed up shop and placed his book back in his bag.
"Bullshit aside," said Chucky, "We didn't find nothing down here. How about upstairs? You find anything?"
"No, nothing," Tiffany shook her head.
"Shit…" Chucky thought, "Where are we going to go from here?"
"Hey guys," Shauna had been staring off since they got down there. She was looking way past them, and whatever she was seeing had her in wide eyed perplexity, "Has that chair always been like that or is this new?"
"What chair?" Ozzy asked.
"That one…" Shauna pointed. A standard chair made from wood. Nothing special about what it was. What it was doing however is quite spectacular really.
It was levitating, just floating in mid air three feet above the ground. It bobbed up and down ever so slightly. The darkness made this easy to see, but there was some kind of aura around it. A thin layer of amber light. They stared at it in awe and question.
"I'm not the only one seeing this, right?" Shauna asked, approaching it.
"The fuck is that?" Chucky looked it over and poked at it,it remained in suspension, "I ain't doing this, I swear."
"Um...I think it might be me…" Ozzy said nervously, he gripped his birthmark wrist. The eye, what it's usually made out to be, also had an aura of amber. The 'pupil' was a little brighter than the outlines around it. It illuminated and dimmed in intervals, "This is new, this is new. I don't know what this is. Chucky?"
"I'm as clueless as you are," said the slasher, "But if I had to guess, I'd say you got yourself some voodoo magic power." Ozzy looked appalled.
"Oh, sorry, maybe I missed the memo where the Acolyte of Damballa gets FUCKING SUPERPOWERS!"
"Hey, you say superpowers I say gamechanger," Chucky folded his arms.
"How did this happen? How am I even doing this?" Ozzy got up and close to the floating chair. He held his wrist to it, expecting some sort of reaction, but the chair just continued to hover.
"I think I remember reading somewhere that this is normal for the Acolyte," said Chucky, "Usually they got to through training for years to reach some sort of voodoo enlightenment. You didn't have that training...right, Ozzy?" Ozzy continued to try to mess around with the chair.
"When I'm baked I feel enlightened," he said, "But I don't mean literally." Chucky smirked.
"Well, I guess Damballa does mean it literally. In other words, Happy Birthday Doctor Strange."
Ozzy suddenly cried out as the chair darted backwards into the darkness. He didn't do anything to warrant this, he just lowered his hand slightly then it took off. Within the darkness, there was the sound of wood shattering. The chair must've hit the wall and broke. At the same time, the glow from the birthmark was beginning to die down, then faded until it was gone.
"Oh...god," he whimpered.
"Oh god is right!" Chucky said, "We got the upper hand now. Man, I can't wait to see Burton's face when we roll up with this once you learn to control it."
"But I don't want to learn how to control it!" cried Ozzy, "I don't even want this! Oh god…" he pulled Shauna to him and crushed her in an embrace, "I'm a monster!"
"Hey, no, you're not," his girlfriend rubbed his back, "You're just-"
"No, I mean he kind of is," Chucky interjected, "But it's ok. Sometime you just forget about it and learn to live with it. Trust me I know." Ozzy clinged to Shauna tighter. There's nothing worst than being sad and high at the same time. Tiffany nudged her husband.
"Asshole." To his credit though, Chucky was trying in the only way he knew how.
Ozzy felt another twinge in his wrist. The birthmark was beginning to act up again. It blinked a couple of times before gradually stabilizing into a constant faint glow. Ozzy grabbed his wrist.
"Shit, what is it doing now?"
"Video killed the radio star, video killed the ra-god dammit, eighties! Get the fuck out of my head!" Glenda clutched her temples as if fighting an inner-demon.
"Maybe the tape really was magic," Glen, who had just gotten his bleeding to stop, said, "It transferred its soul into you and now you can't get it out."
"Just think of something else," said Lottie as she cleared out the nightstands beside the bed, "The more you think about it the more it's going to burrow itself in your mind. Well...there's nothing up here." She stepped away from the now empty nightstand.
"Did what dad asked," said Glenda, "I'm heading back down."
What happened next is one for the highlight reel. Before Glenda could do so much as leave the room, she suddenly stopped, completely still. It's hard to describe but she felt the air being manipulated around her. She did feel a noticeable difference in the pressure around her. As if the air was tracing her shape from top to bottom. Then, the air began to glow. Faint at first then becoming lighter...amber.
"Woah! Shit!" That was all the reaction time Glenda had. There was no one around except for Glen and Lottie who watched this from where they stood, and she was lifted slowly into the air. And since it was being done by no one, it was levitation. She was just below the ceiling when she stopped and just floated there. Her brother and sister just started up in absolute awe.
"Holy...fucking...shit," Glenda beamed as she rolled around in mid air, like an astronaut who had achieved weightlessness.
"Glenda?" her twin questioned.
"FUCK YES!' she cried, raising her arms, "HA! That tape was magic after all! I have graduated to equilibrium! I don't have to obey the rules of the universe anymore!" she air somersaulted backwards, "Weeeeeee!"
"Uh, Lottie?" Glen asked. Lottie hummed.
"I...got nothing." Lottie wasn't one to care about being right or wrong, it's just that when Glenda's involved, it really helps to be right.
"Ah!" Glenda suddenly shot upwards to the ceiling and thudded against it, plaster fell from the impacted area. Glen covered his mouth, trying to muffle the laughter at his twin's amusing expense. "Ok, I guess maybe this is gonna take some practice. SHI-"
She was suddenly propelled sideways towards the wall and crashed into it. She groaned as she slowly floated away from the hole she had left in the drywall. A snicker from Glen was audible and Lottie's straight face showed signs of breaking down with a half smile.
"Agh, ok, I'm not sure I like this anymore...WOAH FUCK!" She again accelerated to the ceiling and collided with it, same result as before. Glenda was now getting dazed as she floated down to above the bed.
"I want to come down! I don't like this! Help me!" she reached out her arm. Glen stood up and reached for it.
"Right, right. Just calm down I'll help you."
Before he could grasp her hand, Glenda was rocketed away again, this time crashing against the chifferobe. She cried out as her back hit it and then fell to the floor. Whatever spell she was in now worn off. The glowing amber aura that had once surrounded her was gone. Glenda groaned as she pulled herself back up and dusted herself off.
"Whew...story to tell the parentals huh?" the chifferobe suddenly creaked, like the sound of a house 'settling in'. Then it slowly tipped over before breaking into a full on fall. Glenda turned around looked up at it coming at her. She whimpered.
"Oh, fuck me in the ass…"
The chifferobe, obeying the laws of gravity, came down on her. No artsy way to put it. It just fell on her. And if you know how big a chifferobe is then you know how unpleasant it must be for Glenda.
"Shit! It's stuck! Glen! Lottie! Little help!? Please! It's crushing my boobies!" Glenda's voice was muffled, but still audible.
Lottie sprang into action and slipped her hands under the fallen chifferobe and heaved. Glen just stood with his hands behind his back.
"Glen, we should probably be helping her."
"Can't you just let me enjoy this moment?"
"Make it...fucking stop," Ozzy shook his hand vigorously, the birthmark was still glowing until he grabbed his wrist and covered it. When he removed his hand, there was just the birthmark. The 'eye' shape no longer an amber glow. So the key was to keep it covered it seemed. Ozzy grabbed the char cloth from beside the furnace and tied it around his wrist, directly on the birthmark. He breathed. Shauna had remained by his side.
"Don't worry, Ozzy," she comforted, "We'll figure this out."
"I'm just..I'm just so scared. What if I start hurting people?"
"Fantastic!" applauded Chucky, "That would be the best case scenario."
"Well it isn't for me!" Ozzy cried.
'Riiinnnng!' Riiiinnnng'
Before this could be drawn out anymore, they suddenly heard a phone ring from upstairs. The basement door was open, I mean it couldn't be closed since it was hanging by a hinge so the sound carried over. It was a really defined tone, the ring of the pin hitting against the bell was audible and it was not digitized.
"Ozzy, did you leave your phone upstairs?" Shauna asked him. Ozzy simply held up his phone in response.
"What the hell?" Chucky ascended the stairs, up towards the daylight of the first floor. Tiffany, Ozzy and Shauna followed.
Hanging on the wall just across from the kitchen, was a white 80s rotary phone, though by now it was grey. It wouldn't go to voicemail, since there was no answering machine attached so it would just keep on ringing. What was most peculiar about it was that it was not plugged in. The switchbox was just under it, but the wire which should've been connected was just hanging above it. The plug had been either ripped or degraded off and the wire abruptly ended. Nonetheless, the phone continued to ring.
Chucky raised an eyebrow as he inspected it. He held the wire in his hand, it sparked everytime the phone would ring. The phone was out of his grasp.
"Jesus christ!" Glenda and the other Ray kids came down the stairs, she was still picking wooden splinters out of her air from the chifferobe, "Would someone please answer the god damned phone..woah," she noticed her father holding the disconnected wire, "That's some creepypasta shit there." Chucky released the wire. The phone still continued to ring.
'Riiiiinnnng' Riiinnng'
Ozzy stood in front of it and placed his hand on it. "Should I?"
"Unless you want it to keep ringing," said Chucky. Ozzy shrugged and did just that.
"Uh...hello?"
"Is this the Acolyte of Damballa?" asked a voice on the other line. Female, there was no doubt about it. There was a hint of southern descent, but Ozzy at the time couldn't put his finger on where.
"Don't tell them anything." Chucky said.
"No," Ozzy quickly responded to the caller, "You just, uh, have the wrong number."
"You don't need to be afraid," the woman's voice said, "I can help you...I have the amulet you're interested in, the Soul of Damballa."
"Then...yes?" said Ozzy. Chucky face palmed goddammit.
"I can help you. I have what you want and I can give it to you."
"That's great...but who are you?"
"That's not important, but what is that we want the same thing," the woman on the other line said, "I know what you can do and I like the world, I don't want it to end. And you seem like a reasonable man, I'm sure you don't either. Don't you?"
"Yes."
"Good, then if you're true to your word, you'll meet me tonight. There's a boat house a little way from Navy Pier, look for number six. I'll have the amulet for you."
"Uh...thanks?" this seemed way to convenient for Ozzy.
"Oh, and please come alone. I know there's some people looking for you. You're a wanted man, Osborne Wilkes…"
"Wait! How did you-"
The other line went silent at that moment. Whoever it was hung up. Ozzy exhaled a little to heavily as he put the phone back in it's plate. At the same time, the disconnected wire had stopped sparking.
"Well?" Chucky asked.
"It was...some girl," said Ozzy, "She says she has the amulet we're looking for… she wants to meet me tonight."
"Damn, guess it worked out after all, talk about convenience." Chucky smiled.
"Chucky, she knew who I was. You don't think that she called here because she knew I was here? Can we also talk about this?" he held up the dead phone wire. Chucky went silent for a moment as he thought this over. It did seem a little too perfect. They had just arrived in Chicago, right on the cult's home turf. Now all of a sudden sometime's trying to contact them through what may damn well be supernatural means.
"Yep!" he said after deliberation, "It's a trap." Ozzy sighed.
"So, where do we go from here?"
"I think that's obvious," smirked Chucky. Ozzy and Shauna gasped.
"No...no, you can't be serious."
"Yep. Clear your schedules. We got a meeting tonight."