"Someone's doing a chant!" Lottie cried as she, Shauna, and Ozzy all felt the shakes of the building.
"Can the Deacon cast the spell with me just being here?" Ozzy worryingly asked.
"He shouldn't be able to, unless...it's not him." It was Lottie's turn to look worried. Chucky was dead, so that only meant it could be Tiffany or the twins. At that moment, she didn't have enough time to figure out as Shauna was axing down a locked door on the left side of the narrow hallway.
For those of you just joining, they're at the older doll workshops on the upper floors of the abandoned Play Pal Corporation headquarters. These are the floors that were last touched by the hasty workers who left it. No thief or vandal had ever managed to get that high in the building. The floor was just a single narrow hallway with very few doors and rooms. In fact, the first were just smaller offices. The only one that wasn't locked was the one leading the stairwell. Good Guys' laughter and the skittering of tiny limbs bounced off the walls of that concrete echo chamber. Looks like they were making their way up slowly but surely.
"Hey, you guys are going to want to see all this." Shauna had just peered through the gash she had made in the moldy, old door before reaching through and unlocking it. "This might be what we're looking for." She was the first one in, fire axe over her shoulder. Lottie quickly followed her in while Ozzy stopped and gasped and what awaited them.
It was the doll workshop alright. Now it made sense why the hallway was so small. This damn room made up nearly the whole floor with how deceptively roomy from behind a closed door. Rows upon rows of long decommissioned workstations monotonously populated the workshop. This must have been where they assembled the dolls by hand before the process became fully automated. Everything from the walls to the pens on the stations was grey with age, and if something wasn't grey then it was brown with rot. That was save for the immortal plastic doll heads that covered an entire wall on hook racks.
The eyeless cluster of heads wrapped in cobwebs was what had made Ozzy gasp. Some had hair while others were bald. There were instances of some not having their freckles or brows painted on. Dusty torsos lined the shelves below them. The spiders responsible for the webs made their home inside the hollow plastic shells. This place couldn't have looked more haunted as shit, especially with the flickering lights that at least worked a little. But the strangest thing of all is that some of the heads and bodies were smaller and the faces looked more retro. Some of these dolls may have also been the original Good Guy prototypes.
Ozzy suddenly screamed.
"What!?" Shauna hissed in alarm while Lottie jumped.
"Sorry...I thought I saw one of them blink."
"How the hell can they blink, they have no eyes." Lottie really needed that giggle.
"Well, when one of them does blink that's how we'll know it worked." Shauna grabbed a head off the wall. Like picking a pumpkin, she felt it was wise to go with the one that was the firmest. And just like a pumpkin, she was sure to do a bug check because of the web that was just littered with dead flies wrapped in the silk. The spider fell out of the bottom of the neck because there was no way it was getting through the eye holes. It was a common grass spider that should've been the size of a quarter but instead could take the entirety of one's palm. Ozzy obviously had the more common reaction as it skittered across the floor, under a table, and directly over to him and Lottie.
"Ah! Motherfucker!"
"Aw, eight-legged little friend!" Lottie reached down at the spider only to have dart away but still in eyesight as it stood in the doorway behind them. She wasn't giving up her pursuit or interest in the insect and slowly snuck over to it, tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she held her breath. She reached out to it again and this time was able to graze its big heart butt with the tip of her finger before it darted away. "My mom and I love these things."
"Heads up," pun intended in every little way with that as Shauna tossed the head she choose over to Ozzy, who fumbled it a bit before holding it steady, "Pop those bad boys in." He gave the head a weird look and pressed both eyes that were previously in his pocket into the sockets with his thumbs as if gouging them out, or rather gouging them in. The blood that coated them seeped into the doll's head. That was a very good thing. Ozzy's look got even weirder now that he saw what Chucky's new face would be like.
"Is it just me or did the scars and stitches make him look more...distinguished and mature?" He flashed the head to Lottie who also looked uneasy.
"I never saw him without them," she said, "Jeez, I feel like those babies who see their dads shaved for the first time...this is bizarre." Scarface Chucky forever, rests in power. Shauna was rummaging through the workstation cabinets and bins around the workshop. What she mostly found were old tool kits and even sewing ones for clothes fixes. Ozzy and Lottie joined her in her search with the adjacent stations.
"This must be where they made the clothes," Ozzy was the first to investigate the larger of the stations, one with a dusty, rusted-still sewing machine. Blue, red, and rainbow fabrics still lay inserted in the machine and were stuck halfway as an unfinished shirt. Most of them fell apart when Lottie, standing close by Ozzy, touched them.
"We should probably get something for him to wear unless we want to see his dong flapping around." Shauna glanced at them.
"You think he'll have one?" Ozzy didn't want to go down this path but couldn't help ask.
"I mean she and the twins got here somehow." Shauna pointed at Lottie, who instantly started digging through an old fabric bin beside the station.
"Yes, these are essential." was all she said. The bin was large that she was able to climb in, burying herself amongst the articles used for making shirts and overalls as she dug like a gopher. There had to be something in there that was finished or in good condition.
"Torso! I found a torso!" Shauna proudly proclaimed half a minute later as they continued the sweep. Beneath an old doll assembly station, there was a bin full of them. Like everything else, they were covered in cobwebs and some were yellow with age and mold. Shauna had to check a couple since the back battery compartments either had an old battery that leaked acid and hardened over it or the whole power pack was removed, leaving a huge gap in the back. She had found one close to the bottom of the bin in good condition. The plastic just needed a little dusting off and it was already stuffed with whatever plush material Play Pal used. That's another thing, some of their dolls are stuffed while others aren't -a change in the formula I guess.
"Let me slap this on!" Ozzy was eager to do just that as Chucky's new head was easily stuck on the new body. You saw how it's done in the opening credits of Child's Play 2, insert slot A into slot B.
"Kind of sad looking..." Shauna commented as Ozzy laid the lifeless, limbless, clothesless Good Guy doll on a station top.
"I wonder if I can bring him back now. What did he say again? Oh right, ade due Damballa...awake!" Nothing happened. There wasn't even so much as a reaction like something stirring in the room -no supernatural energy. Ozzy tapped his mark against the doll's unblinking face a couple of times while repeating awake but still, nothing happened. "Huh, guess he really does have to be complete for it to work. Find anything, Lottie?"
"I got this...but I'm not sure what it is." Lottie emerged from the bin, aged and dull rainbow fabric covering her head like a bonnet without borders. She peeled it off before pulling herself out of the pin. It's cute if you picture it. She held a small, doll garment of some kind. It wasn't a blue, red, rainbow, or even any other primary color. It was sheet white and had what looked like markings and numbers on it in black. Lottie stretched it out as she handed it to Ozzy, it had the same feeling texture as Under Armor or something from Lululemon. Ozzy soon made sense of what the numbers and markings meant as he looked the garment over.
"Oh shit, I think this like some sort of rough draft outfit they use for taking down dolls' proportions." The garment had the shoulders, waist, bust, wingspan, and leg measurements all marked with tacks and numbers. Fitted on a modern Good Guy doll, this garment would look like an athletic leotard with the legs stopping at the lower calves and the arms stopping at the elbow. As rudimentary and prototype-like as it was, it seemed to be the only set of clothing in the workshop in good condition, save for a few grey stains.
"I'm in favor of it," Shauna said, "We need something to tell him apart from the others anyway."
"I wish I had something made like this when I went to ballet," Lottie stretched the measurement prototype suit out in front of her like a rubber band. And, just like a rubber band, the elasticity turned into tension and it flew from her hands.
"Ow! Shit!" Ozzy slapped his hand over his cheek where it had whipped before falling to the floor.
"Oh no! Osborne, I'm sorry!"
"It's alright, it's fine." Ozzy's seething turned into laughter when he released it was a little funny. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him that night. He picked up the measurement suit and stuffed it in his back pocket. It was easily crumpled up. They were not able to dress what will be Chucky without his limbs.
"Anyone see any arms or legs in here?" Shauna asked, speaking of which. There was a pause as the three realized that they actually have not seen any since walking in. Ozzy and Lottie went over to a couple of other workstations deeper into the workshop. They found paints, hair kits, and other assembly tools among the drawers and bins, but there didn't seem to be any hands or feet anywhere. They even found those weird little dental kits they use on the dolls' teeth. Why do they have those? How's plaque supposed to build up there?
"Come on, they have to up here," Ozzy pulled out a drawer from a station desk that he knew couldn't fit a single doll limb, "Why wouldn't they be? Isn't this supposed to be the workshop?" Lottie put a finger on her chin.
"Maybe Play Pal has just been using it for doll tweaks, like with the voice boxes and batteries. I don't think there's much that can be done with empty, plastic limbs that just need to be attached. All the real assembly must happen on the factory floor."
"Wh-what does that mean?" Ozzy knew the answer as he glanced at the incomplete Chucky. Part of him hoped that Lottie and Shauna didn't so he could formulate an easy way out.
"All the real assembly must happen on the factory floor," Shauna repeated what Lottie said. She knew.
"God fucking dammit...we have to go back down."
The building seemed to acknowledge this. Outside of the doll workshop, something slammed within the hallway, this was also accompanied by a crashing sound against the walls. Crushing is the wrong word. It was more of slapping like a very small hand was swatting at the drywall all over. Shauna brought her fire axe over her shoulder as Lottie stood in front of Ozzy. The three approached the door that Ozzy had made sure to shut on their way in. It's like putting a blanket over your head when you get scared as a kid, it just feels oh so secure. You ever play a horror game like Amnesia or Outlast and just shut the door of a room you're sweeping for whatever you need to continue? Same deal.
"Bum rush to the stairs, at least this place isn't a high rise." Shauna directed, "Since we're going down we should have high ground."
"Does that really work in fights?" Ozzy asked.
"Oh yeah."
"That has not at all been the case when it comes to my family and I." Lottie begged to differ.
"Excellent, makes me feel all the more better about this," Shauna deadpanned with a smile because frowning is pointless.
Shauna's original intent was to fling the door open when they were ready like before, given the opportunity to prepare, she would always take it. But the squad of four Good Guys on the other side of the door had other plans as they breached the doll workshops narrowly knocking it off its old hinges. They took no time to introduce themselves as they played the doll's laugh on loop. Ozzy shrieked and Shauna roared as two of them charged him and latched onto his legs like goblinoids, while she managed to bean one in the head with the axe. The cool part was that it stuck in the doll's head like before and Shauna could easily beat him against the floor. The fourth one had knocked Lottie off her feet and made his way on her with his ritualistic dagger. Lottie stuck both of the daggers she had in either side of his neck so she could grab his wrists and keep the blade from reaching her face. However, she became more focused on her attackers' bare hand she was also holding back. Compacted against his palm was the squished body of a grass spider. Some of its little legs stuck out like a pulled section of a sticker. Dead insects always look sad.
"You! Say good fucking bye!" Lottie embodied her sister as vengeance for her little friend of two seconds was now the only thing on her mind. She grabbed the hilts of the daggers she sank into the Good Guy's small neck and pressed her feet on his shoulders and began pushing. The Good Guy was able to slice her across the chest as she continued to pull away. She was using all her weight to separate his head from his body and the sound of tearing plastic was a sign that it was working. The neck seams could only take so much tension from the pulling and tore. The body went flying back as Lottie held the Good Guy's head above her. Man, I'm glad they don't have blood or guts because this saves me so many gore descriptions.
"Shauna, help! I feel their hands coming close to my junk!" Ozzy had to fight just to lift or move his legs with the pair of shadow men Good Guys trying to subdue him. His girlfriend had just finished caving in the face of the doll that attacked her with the head of the axe. She was trying to get it in his mouth and split his head like the shovel kill from Day of the Dead because when would she get another chance at this? She wasn't successful in this because she really couldn't tell where his face started and ended after she was done with him.
"Hold still!" she urged and raised the axe. Ozzy turned paler.
"No! No! No axe! Too close to my legs!"
"Well god damn, didn't know we could be picky now!" Shauna still obliged and began pulling at the doll on her boyfriend's left leg. She sharply yelled and gripped her hand. "Ow! The weird little fuck just bit me! You piece of shit! I'll end you!" She was on it more fiercely now.
"Sit tight, Osborne!" Lottie fought with the one on his right leg. Where can you really stab something that doesn't feel? The answer is anywhere to get a good grip on it then toss the shit out of it. In this case, it was right in the Good Guy's clavicles as Lottie twisted and stabbed to deter him.
"Lottie, try suplexing him!" Shauna urged with really what should've been irony.
"Try suplex-What the hell do you think I am!?"
"Ah! Teeth!" Ozzy cried as the Good Guy Lottie was wrestling with chomped just below his knee. Shauna was preventing the other one from doing the same, one hand twisted in his hair and the other around his neck. Lottie removed one of her daggers from the Good Guy's clavicle and slid it between his jaws similar to how staff at reptile handlers use knives to free people from caimans and the like that got the munchies during photo ops. The blade gets inserted flatly under the teeth and rotated around in a way that forces the jaws to open. That is how Lottie handled this biting Good Guy and how she ultimately got him off Ozzy. Sick of being deterred from his main target, the shadow man possessed Good Guy seemed to allow Chucky's youngest child to pry him away so he could have a shot at her. Lottie was pulling a great deal when he let go so, they both went rolling back with what ended as the Good Guy having the upper hand.
"Hi! My name is Emory! And I'm your friend to the end!" he finally introduced himself as he tried to choke out Lottie on her back.
"What the fuck kind of name is that for a toy!?" Lottie taunted rather than asked. She was on both defense and offense, trying to get the second dagger that was still impaled on him while slashing with the one she had. With Emory off him, Ozzy was able to move more with just the one that remained. Shauna was close to pulling him away while Ozzy was beating against his head with one hand, it felt as if he was smacking it against a basketball.
"Fuck this, I'm getting the axe!" Shauna reached for said tool.
"Wait, not that! This!" Ozzy motioned to his broken arm at his side. He had stopped using the makeshift sling when they entered the factory. It didn't hurt when it dangled alongside him as he ran but that could not be good for it. Ozzy was holding back the Good Guy with his one hand so he couldn't get to it. Shauna instantly got the idea in light of all the stunts he had been pulling. Ozzy winced as she grabbed his forearm which he was not able to fully move and point his wrist down at the Good Guy. The Eye of Damballa birthmark had started glowing the second she touched him -if Ozzy was trying to get better at it, it was working. The Good Guy actually looked back up at them like he was staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Hi! My name is-"
This was what Ozzy wanted this whole time. Lightning, a glorious fucking bolt of lighting shooting directly from his wrist like a Spider-Man and SHAZAM amalgam. It lit up the dimly lit room for the brief second or even less when it hit the Good Guy who never got an intro right in the face. It didn't just blast his plastic, smiling mug to kingdom come, but it send him flying across the workshops and sent through workstations and storage racks. With the way they moved from the impact, one would think they had wheels. Forget trying to track the crashing sound, it was all over the place. Even Lottie and Emory looked over briefly.
"Ha! Shit eater supreme! That's what your name is!" Shauna shouted across the small workshop space.
So, that's what we'll call him. Shit eater supreme wasn't down for the count after eating shit like that. The doll pulled himself to his feet, his face now a burned crater of plastic and metal. With no eyes, or nose or mouth for that matter, shit eater supreme was relying entirely on sounds. The good news is that Shauna was there to end his suffering. The fact that he got up offended her and Shauna wasted no time in grabbing the fire axe and sprinting over to him and proceeding to hack him into pieces to compliment his new lack of a face. She was screaming the whole time. Not scared or terrified screaming, but anger and annoyance.
"Osborne!" Lottie called, still wrestling with Emory, she slipped her feet under his mid-section, "Pull!"
Ozzy knew what she meant. It was time to be a cool magical, action hero. He held his broken arm and aimed his wrist. Lottie, using all her might, pushed Emory off her with her feet. Her child strength sent the doll weighing nearly nothing up in the air for a brief moment, the one that Ozzy was supposed to take. Play this part in slow motion as you read. Ozzy fires off a bolt of lightning like before from his birthmark. The blue, skinny bolt glides through the air as it moves past his hand and over Lottie...and just misses Emory. The Good Guy doll came crashing down on his face with a pathetic plushy plop while the wayward bolt blew a hole in the ceiling.
"What the fuck, Osborne?"
"I'm sorry...I thought I had it."
"I set it up perfectly."
"I said sorry, I just don't have good hand-eye coordination."
"It's point and shoot, you're less than five yards away."
"What happened?" Shauna got up from hacking the other Good Guy to pieces. Fluff and plastic bits adorned the axe blade resting over her shoulder with what she had done.
"Osborne completely squandered this pull I just set up for him."
"With that Good Guy? Shit, that would've looked cool."
"Shooting lighting looks cool." Ozzy trying to save grace like a kid.
"Yeah, but it would've been a lot cooler if it actually hit the Good Guy." Shauna walked and talked over to them before beheading Emory where he attempted to get up Medieval executioner style and saved both of them the trouble. Lottie dusted herself off while Ozzy cocked his broken arm like a gun, hoping that it would keep the glow of the birthmark from dying out. Guess what, it actually worked. Shauna couldn't help but sweep the workshop for limbs one last time.
"Would also be a lot cooler if we could just reassemble Chucky up here, but that is really not the case. We have to go back down to the factory and have the machines finish him." Shauna grabbed Chucky's unfinished body off the table they left it on and the three cautiously left the old doll workshops. Surprisingly, the hallway was empty. The same could not be said for the stairwell just a couple doors down from where they were. Footsteps and skitters grew louder and louder towards the door left slightly ajar by the squad they were just visited by. The stairwell was even dimmer than the old workshops, like a mineshaft -fitting because its a descent after all.
"I'll lead the charge but keep on me with that lighting, Ozzy. Use whatever fancy spells you got to help me clear a path for us. Lottie, I need you to keep them off my ankles and help me stay standing. I'm not going out like my grandpa Bucanan and dying on the stairs." Shauna tied Chucky's body to her hip using her hoodie. Both hands are necessary for the axe in this case.
"Oooooh fuck me." Ozzy nervously clutched his wrist as they inched closer to the stairwell.
"No matter what happens, you two, I love you guys." Lottie smiled up at them.
Ozzy and Shauna really needed that.
I could write and tell about the battle in the stairwell as Ozzy, Shauna, and Lottie made their way back into the belly of the beast. But you want to hear more about Glen and Glenda, don't you? Let's get to it.
Pop culture tends to dictate that the last thing people see after they die is a loop of their final moments. Like anything that happens after you die, it's not based on any reason or logic. It's just a fun idea to throw around and see where it sticks. In Glenda's case, her last moments were sheer chaos. The last thing she remembered was her and Glen screaming the final verses of the chants in each other's faces, not caring who was spitting in whose face in the process. The feeling of coldness she got after the Deacon had split her in half was at its worst. She could feel her one hand on Glen's face as they completed the chant finally losing all sensation and falling to the side. This was a powerful spell. One of those wherein a bolt of lightning, often hypothesized as Damballa's finger, striking the caster to complete the ritual. Being in a building, it was less than graceful. We'll get to that in a moment. You ready for some shit?
Glenda's vision cleared, which was the last thing she expected to happen being dead. Part of her still hoped that the chant would fail or that Hell was in fact as literal as it sounded and maybe she could be among her own kind. She was still figuring that part out as a voodoo monster of some kind. No fire or brimstone greeted her where she lay. It was so surreal and felt like a dream. Glenda found herself in front of a shoji, the classic Japanese sliding door, standing in a narrow hallway with no windows or any other doors. If you must know, that wallpaper was purple and grey. What there was in that hallway, other than the shoji, was a mirror hanging on the wall. Glenda felt her whole body seem to bubble with every step she took over to that mirror, she couldn't resist taking a look. She was walking, wasn't she? That meant her body was restored.
She screamed as she saw her reflection as it really felt like a bad dream now. Her body was restored alright, right back to how she or rather Glen looked all those years ago in captivity. Emaciated, paler, skinner, and in tattered clothes, Glenda Duchess was really no more. The only way she knew it was her was her teal eyes which always seemed lighter than Glen's more dark blue ones.
"N-NO!" Glenda clutched her hair. It was so short she could barely run her fingers through it. "GLEN! GLEN! HELP!"
"Glenda?" a voice softly called out to her as the shoji slid open. It was Glen, standing in the doorway in all his Shitface prime just like her Glenda knew it was him from his eyes despite looking exactly like her, and his voice which is something she really needed to hear.
"Glen!" Glenda ran into his arms and buried her face in his chest. "I changed my mind! Put me back! I can't be this! I'm not-"
"Glenda, it's ok. Everything is fine. This place is just as much yours as it is mine." He wrapped his arms around her before putting them on her shoulders.
"What is this!? Where the fuck are we!?"
"The spell worked, you're alive and in my-our body again," said Glen, "Don't worry about where we are our even what we are at the time. Nothing matters here. It's not even real."
"What?"
"This is all metaphysical. Time and place on the outside is redundant. It's our mind so it can appear however we want. Just like how we can." To illustrate this, Glen briefly phased into his old human self, just how he looked before driving the tanto through his gut. He then reappeared as Shitface once again.
"Why do you look, you know, like that?" Glenda asked.
"I mean not isn't going to change the fact that it happened."
Glenda paused before phasing into her old human self. She took a moment to celebrate the return of her hair and spent what seemed like forever looking at herself in that mirror. Based on her doll body, it really isn't much off. In fact, it better not have been based on how much they paid that custom dollmaker in commissions. For good measure, Glenda may have added an inch or two on, with her frizzy long red hair going all the way down to her lower back. It all really felt like a dream now being back in her own skin.
"What else can I do here?" Glenda eagerly asked. Since Glen appeared as a doll, she had to kneel down next to him.
"So much more than just that. But first, I really want to tell you about what here really is. And, I have something to show you." Glen lead her in through the shoji doorway.
The whole room appeared almost as a traditional Japanese home. Bonsai trees and low-bearing tables that required no chairs were neatly arranged like a living room with candles in lieu of any sort of electrical-powered light. There was a more Western-style bed there as well. A bookshelf of what looked like manga sat beside it. The books' spines seemed to illuminate with the pages within. There was also a DDR Supernova Edition machine on the song select screen all ready to go. Here's some more headcanon lore, hope it isn't too late to tell, but Glen is a whiz on the DDR machine. He went to tournaments at arcades and placed highly against Japanese kids who trained on that shit. The kid can really fucking tear it up on the ol' Dance Dance Revolution when he wants to. Glenda honestly didn't know what to expect walking in, still, she found the calming aura of the metaphysical room to be contagious.
"This is the setting equivalent of our mind now, huh?" She was still glancing about, checking everything out.
"Not as great as you recall, right?" Glen smiled, as he felt her grow at ease in the place that had once caused her so many nightmares back then.
"The screaming, the stabbing, the biting, the burning…it's all really gone, isn't it?" Glenda sat on the bed. It felt as comfy as it looked.
"I got to work right away when we began our new lives, away from each other. And you and dad said that meditation and being considerate are a waste of time."
"You know all this Japanese stuff isn't real. Like, you literally saw where dad was created and we sure as shit aren't in Tokyo."
"Yes, but it's all a great metaphor for peace and moving forward even if we hold onto things that don't make sense. I know I'm not Japanese, but that doesn't mean I can't learn a thing or two from their art and culture."
"Weeeeeeeb." They both laughed. "So, I'll just chill out here while you go out there and save ou-your family and what not. I'm sure we'll come across another body you can unleash me on the world again. I promise I'll be a good monster. Maybe some time away is all I need." Glenda was about to stretch herself out over the bed with no regard for how pristinely the decorative pillows were placed, but Glen was by her side with his hand on hers.
"Actually Glenda, there's somethings I really need to show you. I mean, don't you even want to know what's behind those two doors?" Glen pointed at another shoji door and an unsuspecting average Western pine door towards the other side of the room. Glenda raised a brow as she failed to notice these when she first entered. Then again, that's a regular habit she has with everything.
"It's your mind at this point, Glen. Right now, I don't care to know how better at life you were than me."
"Our mind, Glenda." Glen affirmed and Glenda shot him an uneasy look. "Come on, I can show you where you really come from." The uneasy look got even more uneasy.
"You…can't. That's impossible. I was always here if this our mind…that's all I remember. Just you –the real being." Glen gently pulled her off the bed, her height kept him from holding her hand further as he guided her over to the unopened shoji sliding door.
"You're half right, Glenda. But there's so much more that you don't know." Glen slide open the door to reveal his full mindscape. Just outside, a sand Zen garden complete with carefully raked sands and tempered hedges and scrub soils that foliage grew from. Nothing was the color it was in reality. The sky was green, the soil was red, and the sand was yellow. All plant life was at least the proper light green chlorophyll hues save for their metal-like glare. The Zen garden was decorated with traditional statues, some of the dragons stone, and some even jade in texture. The backdrop of the whole the place were green rolling hills with cherry blossom trees sprouting all around. You could just hear the Japanese flute music echoing over them. "You've been gone for a while so I've been keeping everything to my liking."
"How did you do all this?" Glenda stared at it all like she as in an art museum.
"I dreamed it. Everything you've seen here came to me in dreams. That's how every mind works I imagine. You're aware of the importance of dreams?"
"That's how we talked to each other as kids…through our dreams. I always saw you until we split up."
"Do you remember the first dream you ever had with me?"
"Before the murder dreams, before everything…I think it was a storm and we were out in an endless field of some sort. I remember because Psyches' face would appear in the storm clouds and belt us with hail as he spat and yelled at us. Yes, the like Rhino from James and the Giant Peach. Not the worst dreams, but those are what acquainted me with nightmares. We weren't in one body, it would just be the two of us…just huddled together out in the middle of nowhere waiting for the storm to pass. Dream you was always kind of a lifeline for me."
"That's this place. You would dream of this place. That's just how it looked back then. Psyches always said that I spent a lot of time asleep as a baby. I obviously forgot any early dreams I had but there's one I'll always remember. Psyches gets royally cross at me and throws me out of a moving car wrapped up in a sack. I didn't know how to walk but I more than knew what 'hurt' was. I crawl out of the sack and find me self at the opening to a dark and twisted forest. There's noises from animals I can't see all around and some of the trees seem to move on their own without a hint of wind in the air. But I don't crawl far. Underneath one tree besides the path, I see someone who looks exactly like me."
Glenda was confused now, but Glen continued.
"She was me and I was her. She hugs herself and keeps shivering in her little hiding spot. She knows I'm there, I saw her open her eyes to quickly look at me. I want to touch her to see if she's real and when I do...I woke up. But from then on, I never stopped seeing that version of me in my dreams and soon even in real life as I became a toddler. I would wake up with bite marks I don't remember having, see glimpses of her in mirrors and glass, and I would even go entire weeks without even being aware of them. As if, someone else was living them. But she's been here. She's been here my, our, whole life."
"Glen. You're starting to scare me. What the hell are you saying!?" Glenda knelt back down to his level, her turn to grab his shoulders albeit more aggressively. Glen pointed over the horizon beyond the Zen garden and rolling hills. There was a path that picturesquely rose and dipped up small hills in the short distance. The destination at the end of that path was no grand estate or palace. It was just forest. Darkened, broad forests like a fairy tale woods with trees with branches like gnarled fingers. Snow White, there's your reference for it.
"In the mind sense, that would be the subconscious -dark woods that we often don't dwell in. That, Glenda, is where you came from." You can't hear it but that was the sound of Glenda's world crashing down on her with the weight of such. She didn't let Glen go. Instead, she drew him closer and stood up with him in her hold. It was by no means a hostile or angry one. She felt her face grew wet as every feeling relating to being overwhelmed broke down the fiber of her being.
"H-how? Why? A-and what?"
"Trauma and emotions have power. Some hauntings and voodoos spells not too different what our dad has done don't always need a dying soul to work. You know and I know that we did not have a normal birth when dad first got back together with mum. There was something magical involved. I was born inhuman too, a tiny little battery of voodoo magic. I think I couldn't comprehend what Psyches was doing to me and that some residual voodoo magic from our parents gave all that pain and torment created a part of me that could from near-birth...you, stemming from all that trauma."
"I don't understand!"
"You were right, Glenda. I am not your brother. Not brother, not sister, not even twins. You and I are the same being." Glen held his breath as he felt Glenda's hold on him tighten. She was staring a hole through the subconsciousness represented by that dark, never ending forest. At first, she was formulating a counter argument how it just simply can't be. What sense does it make? But then again, look at her life.
"W-what are we?" Glenda shakingly said, holding Glen up to eye level.
"I've been trying figure that out since the day we met our parents. But here's what I do know," Glen placed a hand on his other self's face. "I know we are not an orphan, we very well are a freak, but in spite of everything...we are alive and we are here to stay. No matter what we are or what we become, we've never truly quit on our humanity. We reach out to others for love, hope that others will do the same for us, and never stopped loving those that do even if at the end of the day all they see is just some-"
"Shitface." Glenda finished. She found the answer she was looking for. She didn't say another word as she placed Glen down in front of her. Glenda muted a sob and wiped her wet face as she relaxed her body. Just as Glen had before when she first arrived in this space, she changed her shape. It was Glen's turn to be surprised as Glenda phased back into spitting image of himself or rather themselves -the pale skin returned as did the tattered purple and black clothes. The only subtle difference between them was Glenda's lighter teal eye color compared to Glen's darker ones. Back on his level, Glenda wasted no time in pulling him back into a hug. She was still letting it all out as who she was and wasn't finally began to make sense. She suddenly stopped though, when she felt the fabric on her shoulder grow damp.
"Hey...I thought I was supposed to be the one crying." Glenda smiled through her own tears.
"I'm just so sorry. I'm so sorry that you have been feeling the way you have. Not recently, but our whole lives." Glenda titled her head.
"Oh that. No biggie. We both gave life a try. Everyone loved you and hated me, that's all that there was to it. Looking back on what we are, I can't say I'm shocked no one really reached out to me like you. But that's ok, it was never meant to be. I can stay here now." Glen shook his head.
"Glenda, that's not how it was at all." He hugged her even tighter, "It hurt so much to see you like that..." His sobbing was louder than hers had been, but a mix of joy and sorrow. Glenda couldn't help but get emotional about herself, but if there's something she retained, it's her sad clown demeanor.
"Come stop your crying, it will be alright." Her voice perked up as she began singing to her other self.
"Glenda..." Glen let out a single giggle.
"Just take my hand, and hold it tight."
"Glenda, you're simply too much!"
"I will protect you from all around you."
"I swear, Glenda."
"Don't you cry. For one so small, you seem so strong."
"Oh god."
"My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm." Glenda started rocking their embrace from side to side.
"Bloody 'ell."
"The bond between us can't be broken, I will be here don't you cry."
Glen was quiet. He knew how it went.
"Because you'll be in my heart! Yes! You'll be in my heart! From this day on!"
"Now and forever more!"/"Now and forever more!" Unlike their dad, Glen eventually joined Glenda.
"How do you do that?" Glen asked, wiping his face. "How do you pull this stuff out of your head at the most unfitting times?"
"Defense mechanism." Glenda smiled herself as Glen let her go g but kept one of her hands.
"Come here, I need to show you one more place, and say hello to an old friend."
"Who now?" Glenda was quick to ask as Glen ushered her back into the home.
"Marshall!" he called after sliding the door behind them.
"Wait, Marshall is here!?" Glenda had her question answered when the rat king she and Glen had in captivity crawled and dragged itself from out under the bed. "MARSHALL!" The 14 rat composed king was much larger with each rat, alive or dead, now the size of a Pomeranian. Eight were alive and six were dead if you were wondering. The alive ones had big puppy dog eyes assuming the socket wasn't empty or the eye was popped. Glenda rushed over to it and scooped up as many rats entangled by the tails as she could, dead or alive. "Marshall! I missed you so much!"
"We missed you too, Glenda. Look at how much you've grown." That took Glenda off guard, when one of the rats with a burned away face spoke up.
"Marshall! Oh! I just knew you could talk!"
"And we knew that you would always make it." Another more cleaner looking rat spoke. If you want a voice reference for them let's just say they all sound like Michael J Fox, 2000s Stuart Little. Did you know Tiffany did a voice role in that movie? She did it all for the money because she fucking hates Stuart Little.
"Prepare to be disappointed with what I'm about to tell you." Glenda wasn't frowning when she said this.
"Glenda, Marshall." Glen broke up the reunion briefly to motion over to the more Western-looking door in the room that had remained unopened. Marshall seemed to know what this meant and skittered back to give Glenda space.
"So, what was the deal with that room?" she asked him.
"It's been locked ever since this all has manifested. But when you arrived I could've swore that I heard the lock click. That had to happen for a reason. You should do the honors." Glenda cautiously went up to the door, her hand just hovering above the knob.
"Is it going to be something scary?"
"Something tells me that it's entirely up to you." She took that as encouragement. Glenda took a breath, thought happy thoughts, and pushed open the door. No blinding light or pitch-black void was the cause of her gasp when she did. She had simply opened a whole other room in the metaphysical house that had always been there.
"It's...my room." Glenda took a step inside. It was just how it was before she doused it in gasoline when they went into hiding. You bet your ass that Glenda slept on a waterbed with a luxurious, leather frame. She had a chair made out of the same material placed in front of a vanity with all her favorite lipsticks, lashes, blush, nails, and everything else she enjoyed using to get dolled up for no one, pun not intended. Little decorated frames with pictures of herself and her mother, father, and sister surrounded her jewelry box that she guarded like Smaug. She actually used to sleep with the thing in her arms. Glen stood in the doorway while Marshall linger behind.
"You really are home." He said.
"It's all here!" Glenda sat in her vanity chair and spun. Hell yes, it was a swivel chair. "That's new though. I don't remember doing a lot of reading." She pointed at the bookcase that seemed to blend in with the room. It did match the overwhelming, bubbly pinkiness of the room. Like if Glenda were to take up reading that would be the shelves she would've gotten. It was a lot of books too, like over a dozen shelves worth up.
"I have one too, you saw it out there. Believe it or not, you have actually read all those books because you lived them. These are your memories." Glenda gasped and wasted no time in grabbing a nonspecific book from it.
"Like Inside Out? Core memories!?"
"Yes, that's actually a good way of seeing it. Avoid the three lower shelves, those are all Psyches."
"Thought it would be way more than that."
"Abridged editions. Suppression tends to do that. Which one you do have there?" Glenda held out the metaphysical, and about to be metaphorical, book to him.
"Let's find out!" Glenda opened the book. No one was sucked into the book or anything like that. Instead, the memory played itself like a video in a magical little window that appeared over the book the second it was opened. Both of them could see it as it played.
Teenage Glenda Tilly slunk up to a one the football player's cubby during halftime at the homecoming game like The Grinch that Stole Christmas. Close to her chest, she clutched a pink envelope that she had drowned in perfume. She lovingly ran it across her face, look of pure ecstasy on her face before placing it into the cubby marked 'Arin Washburn.' "Mmmmm, fucking pancake pecs, I love you, Arin!" Glenda licked her lips and scampered out of there. Then the flashback ended as she closed the book.
"Glenda, what did you give to Arin?" Glen
"Nothing just a love letter. Totally harmless."
"What did it say? Love letters don't normally result in a restraining order."
"Um..." Glenda put her fingers together, you know the way, "Roses are red, violets are blue, my *****'s going to be purple after you're through..."
"Glenda... you are sick."
"I know. I know. I'm a creature. I can't blame him for not returning my love."
"There's just better ways." Glenda flipped through the book until another memory opened up.
This one featured teenage her at school again. Uncharacteristically, she was sitting still in the cafeteria, right by the station where they serve the cardboard pizza. Glenda was at a table, and she actually was not alone. Even though the group of girls that put a stink bomb in her locker were obviously jeering her in the background, Glenda was still speaking and rambling to the silent boy next to her. Ben was never an out-in-the-open guy. He was the kind of kid you would see in a yearbook and remember that you went to school with him. Aesthetically, he was a bookworm with those glasses and binder full of folders and pens he always had. Glen knew Ben back then but never knew that he was familiar with Glenda. They had different lunch periods. "It's foolproof. I did the math. If you go to Einstein's Bagels every day and order a bagel with extra cream cheese then take a little off the top and put it away for later. By the end of two weeks, you'll have a free tub of cream cheese." Glenda often broached pressing topics such as this while Ben seemed content just listen with his face in his hand. Glen could swear he saw adoration in his eyes. The memory had no end as Glenda continued speaking about the specifics of cultivating cream cheese without the grocery store.
"Aw, Benny boy...I missed talking to him. He never really spoke too much, but every week or so I would just gush to him. When he showed up at our birthday, that meant a lot. I think I would've asked him to hang out sometime if I was still, you know, her."
"That's Ben Tarriet...he's deaf."
"Say what?"
"Ben is deaf. He was in my humanities class and had a visual aid with him. Every time we watched a movie, subs had to be turned on." Glenda greeted this information with a smile. She stretched her arms out in a showman's like pose.
"Glenda the tragic, everyone! It just comes to her naturally!"
"I like to think you made a difference in his life by spending time with him. I didn't see him frowning. Some people really love you." Glen took the book from her and swapped it out with another one. This one looked more presentable with a leather-like cover. "Here, you'll want to revisit this one instead." Glenda looked at it weirdly.
"Why does this one have a mark in it?" she pointed at the purple post-it sticking out from the reams.
"Core memory," Glen quoted her, "Some of these memories we tend to love remembering, or ought to if we forget." Glenda knew he was telling her to open it.
The second she did, her eyes rolled back into her head as she threw it back. The memory seemed to hit as much as Ozzy's weed. The scene from her past faded in like a movie as she Glenda watched it. She was in her room, not the metaphysical one, but her old one from the Tilly house. She was right, the mind scape captured it perfectly. Glenda Tilly was on the bed, head under a pillow with an embroidered crown on it and face buried in the mattress under, which was damp with tears in that spot. It was a really heavy cry, she was sobbing and heaving, a couple of times she even coughed through it. The sun was glaring through her window, so it was late afternoon. Glenda remembered. It was bad. She got stood up on what was supposed to be an after-school date with Ford from calculus. Glenda sat alone in the mall for two and a half hours that day. When she went a social media, she found that some of his friends were filming sitting alone going through all the stages of grief. The filters highlighting her like a football play with big ugly arrows with all sorts of Xbox Live tier insults. The comment section of those that had surface knowledge didn't help either. 'Hey, it's that loser Tilly girl' or 'Glen's sister is a freak.' Glenda had moved back from acceptance to depression as she screamed and cried beneath her pillow.
"Kid..."
"Sweetface..."
Glenda threw one of her several pillows without moving from her spot at her mother and father standing in the doorway. Or at least Jennifer Tilly-Tiffany was, Chucky was leaning in it. That didn't mean that he wasn't going in any less serious. He was the one that caught the wayward pillow. Chucky and Tiffany looked adorable like this -like Crypto and Natalia from Destroy all Humans. They were the only ones home with her, Glen was at Julie's and Lottie was at ballet practice.
"Leave me alone!"
"Like this? Not a chance." Chucky fluffed the pillow and placed it next to her after Tiffany placed him on the bed.
"Glenda, honey, everything is going to be ok." Tiffany put a hand on her daughter's back. That got her to move as she shot up from where she lay. Her parents got a good look at her makeup smeared and wet face.
"No! Everything is not going to be ok! Everything has never been ok!"
"This was that math class punk, right? I have the night open, just need an address and I'm there." Chucky tried helping in the only way he knew how. "I can make them all pay."
"NO!" Glenda screamed, grabbing him, "For once, not that way dad, please!"
"Ok, ok, alright."
"Name anything you want. We can get it for you." Tifffany said. Glenda's sobbing had quieted for just a moment as she seemed to stare down her parents. That question of what she wanted always took her off guard. She got off the bed, pulling on her hair at her shoulders as she paced around the room, looking for answer. Chucky and Tiffany watched her get more and more erratic.
"I just...I don't...it's not fair...it's not fucking fair! I just want people to want me!" Glenda threw her head back and screamed. That made up for the last moment's lack of sobbing. She really felt like tearing up her room but she was already tearing up her parent's hearts. "Maybe they're right about me! Ever since...this," she motioned at herself, "I thought I could be whole...find someone...people...but I can't! I'm even more alone than before!"
"Aw no, Glenda, you'll always have us. We're your ma and pa." Chucky gave her smile, removing his hands from his ears after her screaming.
"Dad...you never wanted me. It was always Glen this, Glen that, with you. Mom, when you got me...you slapped the shit out of me because you wanted, that's right, Glen back. I thought you wanted me!"
For a moment, Chucky and Tiffany looked at each other in a way that they never had before. There were times when he apologized to her, and she to him, but never was there a moment when they had to apologize or even feel a twinge of guilt together. Usually those that they would to aren't around for long for them to do so. Naturally, their children are exceptions. Still, this was a first for them.
"Sweetface, you know that I will never lay my hand on you like that." Tiffany couldn't say again. It physically hurt.
"Tiff. Glenda's right. I never wanted a daughter when we first became parents." The looks both of them gave him as he may or may not have intentionally paused for dramatic effect, "But I got one anyway, and she is everything I could ever want, even if she does scare the fuck out of me sometimes. I always wanted a son to be like me, keep the legacy alive, but we can't control shit like that. The biggest catch of being a killer is that you pick who leaves the world but not who comes in. And, I'm so fucking happy you did, Duchess (head canon middle name)." Glenda sniffled as her sobbing lessened.
"We love you so much, Glenda, and we would never change anything about you or how we had you if we could. You're too special to us." These are serial killers. Glenda's steady sobs were replaced by that high-pitch oooing sound she makes whenever she gets emotionally overwhelmed, like she was trying to sad cry and happy cry at the same time.
"Moooooom...daaaaaad..." Chucky patted his lap.
"Come here, Glenda, I want you here."
"I want spend time with you too." Tiffany had a blanket ready for her.
Glenda wiped her face, but it only ended up smearing her makeup more. It didn't matter, she would be using the fabric of her father's shirts in a moment. She got back on the bed and placed her head on Chucky's lap. The Good Guy doll body really made for a good plushie pillow. Tiffany pulled the blanket just below her chest to make sure she didn't get too hot in the already warm room. She ran a hand on her daughter's face while Chucky ran his fingers through her hair and over her scalp. Glenda had reached the final stage of her emotional exhaustion and that was fatigue as she felt her eyes grow heavy.
"We both won with you, Glenda, you'll always be our bonafide bonus baby." You can decide who said that.
Glenda closed the book. She had the look of someone who had just finished reading Where The Red Fern Grows. Never, but I heard it has dead dogs and that's really sad and emotionally exhausting. Glen was still there, back in the mind scape bedroom that belonged to her.
"You remember what you needed to?" he asked, a warm smile across his face.
"They are our parents...they really are."
"One more, then we really should get going." Glen handed her another book with a marker in it. This one was decorated with stickers all over, ranging from cute little animals to spooky Halloween characters. I'll keep this one short and sweet. Glenda wasn't even the main focus of the memory. It was Lottie. The little seven-year old was at a ballet contest, on stage with her fellow competitors as the judge was announcing the winner. Glenda was in the front row of the auditorium with Glen and Tiffany, she had Chucky under her arm.
No need to be on the edge of your seat for this one. The judge announced the winner was Lottie. She jumped higher than she did for her performance and ran straight off the stage and into the audience. Her trajectory was locked at Glenda, not her parents or Glen, but Glenda. She was ready for her too, lifting her younger sister right off her feet as they cheered louder than everyone clapping around them.
"I did it, Glenda! You're the best sister ever!"
"Lottiepop..." that was present-day Glenda tearing up at the memory. She dabbled in dance herself and would stay up with Lottie some nights showing and teaching her everything she knew. That time together, whether Lottie won or lost, was precious.
"Glenda," Marshall, or at least six of the alive rats that made up the king put their front paws on her as they stood up like a cluster of puppies, "This self-loathing has gone on long enough. We and so many others love you too much." Remember that Marshall isn't real, so this is like an inner monologue. Glenda pat his tiny heads, even the scalped ones.
"Our family needs us. We're better together." Glen took her hand. "You ready?" Glenda's face was dry now and she was grinning ear to ear.
"Yeah...the Cult of the Snake Hole or whatever their stupid fucking Runescape guild name is don't stand a chance."
The whole section of the Play Pal factory floor that was the foreman's office was completely fucked to say the least. The bolt of lightning with the voodoo power required for a soul transfer of that nature tore the roof apart and struck the floor. Good thing it was concrete because that prevented it from tearing through the foundations and possibly bringing the whole place down. Several of the Good Guys were caught in the blast itself or thrown clear by the force. Small fires and ruined factory equipment littered the floor that was already in disarray to begin with. The shadowmen Good Guys were recovering, pulling themselves back up. The ones that weren't blown to pieces had parts that were blown off had burned away clothing and melted plastic skin along with the occasional missing limbs. Deacon Burton was on the other side of the factory, but he more than heard the ritual. He could sense it, and it had his interest.
Glen (I'll just refer to whoever was in control of the body at the moment) felt static shocks all around as he stood up from his knees over Glenda's destroyed doll body.
Holy fucking shit...look what we did! Glenda wasn't there but she could see and hear everything that Glen was, just like before.
"Look at that? Look at this!" Glen raised his once broken hand that the shadowmen had crushed earlier. Glen confirmed his other suspicion when he lifted his shirt and the wound he got from the rabid dog from way back in Homecoming Part III was also gone. Even the bite marks from Glenda were no more. "We're completely healed." he clenched both hands and it felt good to do so.
That's amazing! This is-oh... Through their eyes, she could see the full destruction of her old body. She really underestimated the Deacon on that one. Ripped apart, mangled, and with bits torn away. The worst part was that its eyes were open and rolled back. Glen heard Glenda sigh.
"Saying goodbye is always hard." He said.
That was a $900 custom doll, Glen.
"Oh...well if it makes you feel better, our real body is priceless."
Yeah...I guess it is
"hI! My nAME is- WAnT tO PLaY!" A Good Guy with a shorted out voice box screamed as it pulled itself from rubble from the hole in the roof. Others followed suit like a zombie movie. Like I wrote before, they're all in varying conditions. There was one walking around with out a head somewhere, possibly more. The ones in better shape that had avoided the lightning blow were making their way over. Glen was surrounded at all sides.
"I got to get my sword back!"
Let me at them! I'm feeling ultra-violent!
"All you!"
"Fuck yes!" Glenda took the pilot's seat and made a mad dash to the Good Guy who couldn't say his name. But that's the thing, it wasn't a dash. Glenda took just one lunge and she was over to the Good Guy in that same instant. It was like she misjudged the distance between them and that he was closer than he seemed. But that stride covered like 12 feet in a second. The Good Guy started clawing at her. What blows did land never seemed to register and Glenda didn't. She knew something was up and just wanted that Good Guy away from her. She grabbed him by the overall straps and flung him aside. And it wasn't what you thought either. The air seemed to break as the Good Guy flew across the factory, blasting through equipment and boxes before coming to a grinding halt, tearing up the floor in the process.
Wh-what
"Glen...what have you been doing to our body?"
I'm not...I don't
A Good Guy suddenly charged them after seeming lackadaisical on the sidelines, going for Glenda's neck with both of his hands. She caught both of his wrists with his fingertips only making it inches from her throat. It was almost crazy how little effort Glenda had to exert to move them away from her. It's like she was fighting a child.
"Glen, look!" She placed her foot on the Good Guy's chest and yanked his arms off with just as little effort. "LOOK!" she dug her fingers into his eyes as they popped out. She gripped his head and lifted him higher than Jason or Michael ever could before slamming him down on the floor. "LOOK!" Glenda screamed with each slam. The force was so great after a couple of rounds that one of the Good Guy's legs came flying off. Glenda then hurled that one too, this time upwards. It went flying through an unbroken portion of the ceiling. It was a whole three seconds before he came back down like the ragdoll he was. "LOOK AT HOW FUCKING STRONG WE ARE!"
"By Damballa's fangs..." Deacon Burton had seen it all from afar as much as he could feel it spiritually. "They achieved Duality."