Seven days, a week was his best guess since Charlie wasn't entirely sure how long Du'Met had been gone. He'd kept track of the days based solely in when Du'Met brought him meals but, with him off on his errands, Charlie had only when he got hungry and how much food he'd gone through as any indication. Seven or possibly eight days seemed a good guess based on his stubble growth as well. Didn't matter how many days it had been to be honest, he'd found his mind wondering just what was so important that Du'Met would leave his new pet all alone for multiple a day. He'd seemed to like Charlie, wanted Charlie around and acted surprisingly gentle toward him. Hell, Du'Met had touched the blond more lovingly than anyone else in years. And, despite how much Charlie hated to admit it, he liked Du'Met; liked being held down by those strong arms; liked not having to deal with the stress of deadlines and finances; liked not having to listen to the whining of people who had a way too high opinion of themselves – although that one had mostly been Kate Wilder. The Brit might not have been able to leave but, somehow, Charlie had started to feel like he had more freedom after his kidnapping than when he'd actually been free. He'd survived the traps and the games, he'd full-on impressed a serial killer. Du'Met killed everybody but he'd not killed Charlie, he'd wanted Charlie with him. Yes, the masked man apparently judged Charlie to be important. Besides, it wasn't so bad being held captive: he could shower regularly, eat and sleep whenever the mood took him and Du'Met had even been kind enough to bring him a plethora of tomes to keep him entertained. For God's sake, even his withdrawal had calmed down, the impossible task of quitting smoking – which had been a habit of thirty years – wasn't so impossible any longer. Fuck, being with Du'Met had actually improved Charlie's health and it was nice to feel as though somebody cared even just a little.
Charlie sighed and collapsed on his back down on the bed with his feet still planted on the ground. This was wrong though, right? Du'Met killed people constantly, enjoyed it and wouldn't ever stop – was probably what his little errand was. Yet there Charlie lay wanting him to return almost eagerly. Something wasn't right with Charlie's brain, he shouldn't have wanted Du'Met back and certainly shouldn't have been impatient for it. He should have been kicking the door down and making a break for it while he could; not that Charlie didn't think he'd not be cut to shreds or dropped into a pit the second he was beyond the bedroom door. More disturbing than that thought was that Charlie had come to realize he didn't want to leave the second castle. Nobody would have bothered to look for him, certainly not alive anyway, and his mother was in England and couldn't remember his name half the time so she'd not push police to find him. No, nobody missed him. His crew had used some stupid reasoning to declare him complicit and had abandoned him to his fate. The police would assume him dead, the crew wouldn't look for him, Charlie had no friends and, even if his mother had been able to remember his name, she'd not have cared, being bisexual had just made her only son disgusting to her. Charlie breathed out a laugh then because it seemed ironic that only debt collectors would be inclined to search for the missing Charlie Lonnit and they were the people he'd have rather avoided.
He stared up at the ceiling and pondered what would happen to the studio now Lonnit Entertainment was no more.
"Who am I kidding?" He sighed. "They'll just take the building and rent it out to some other idiot, hopefully one that won't end up presumed dead."
Charlie pushed himself up and grabbed the book he'd been reading. He hoped the former FBI agent showed his masked face soon because Charlie had almost finished his array of books.
~X~
The drive back to the murder castle had been peaceful and involved significantly less traffic so Du'Met had made decent time after the kidnapping of the McAndrews'. Forcing husband and wife inside the hotel hadn't taken much prompting and, since he had very little option, Gareth had agreed to play ferryman rather speedily. The idiot had actually seemed to to believe he'd get out with his wife alive. Then again, that was exactly what Du'Met always led them to believe.
He'd spent the two days after his return to the castle preparing for his intended victims, he made certain everything was running and ready for his test. Never let it be said Granthem Du'Met wasn't a hard worker. Even before he'd become Du'Met he'd possessed a good work ethic.
Du'Met made the beds in the hotel rooms – one of those rooms hadn't even had a bed until recently. He'd carefully set out the guest book that he'd brought with him from his first castle and double checked that the keys were all ready and waiting. Then Du'Met made a point to listen to the latest of the dwindling news reports about Charlie's crew and what latest thing police had released about the search they'd conducted of the first castle. Though his pseudonym had been mentioned here and there the idiot press had thankfully insisted on calling him the 'Holmes Copycat', the 'Great Lakes Ripper' or the 'Murdering Engineer'. None of those names were accurate and the last one was simply ridiculous, however that meant the name Du'Met had gone rather unnoticed. Everybody had heard of BTK but that didn't mean they knew his real name was Dennis Rader. All that said, it might have been a decent idea, it seemed like a wise precaution. After he'd lured those stupid kids in via the video competition Du'Met would shut down again to make improvements and finish the last section, it would be then that he could pick out a backup name and one for Charlie as well. Most of those he lured in weren't true crime buffs so would likely have forgotten the name Granthem Du'Met by the time he contacted them. To be perfectly honest most people were almost always normally predictable morons.
When he'd got nothing left to prepare Du'Met made his way up to the hidden attic room he'd constructed where he now kept the animatronic of Lucinda Munday, his mother. He knew Charlie would freak out of he knew one of those crates he'd helped Du'Met moved had his mother's body in it, let alone that another had held Sherman's. As soon as he stepped inside the motion sensor tripped and Lucinda's berating started as usual, but Du'Met ignored it that day and went to change the tapes for a little variety. Then he went to the computer and pulled up the cameras of his bedroom which was now more Charlie's room than Du'Met's.
The younger man had sat himself on the floor with his back against the bed to eat his lunch which seemed to be one of the cans of soup he'd left his boy. Du'Met couldn't stop the small smile which appeared on his face while he watched the blond. Charlie actually had been a good boy while he was gone, no escape attempts or naughtiness of any kind really, and his withdrawal seemed to have almost entirely faded away. Yes, Charlie deserved the watch Du'Met had stolen. He tugged it out of his pocket as Lucinda mocked him again and Du'Met's smile faded away. Charlie was there to support him now so maybe, one day, he'd not need Lucinda any longer.
For a moment he fought the urge to go to Charlie but Du'Met's work had to come first, his work always came first, and even though he'd got nothing left to prepare he had neglected his animatronics since fleeing the other murder castle. Also, the longer he left Charlie isolated the more desperate he'd become for the older man's return, it had already been over a week. He'd kill or contain the video vacation winners and only then show himself to his pet, and when he did Charlie would finally stop clinging to that metaphorical cliff edge of his morals and start to slip into being the submissive who was desperate to please. Such a lovely pet Charlie was, but if he became what Du'Met hoped then he could be a real companion to him, and until that moment Du'Met hadn't considered or wanted a companion. Of course he'd barred Charlie from being a partner since no matter what happened they couldn't ever be companions – not because Charlie is not worth of it but because Du'Met could never be like another, not even an anchor had kept him down. No, they couldn't ever be partners or equals because they couldn't ever be the same. However, they could be companions. Du'Met would be the only constant in Charlie's life while Charlie remained Du'Met's beautiful phoenix forever. The only one Du'Met didn't kill, the only one worthy of calling the murder castle home and living. Few, if any, would ever be able to have the place Charlie Lonnit had found himself with. Still, that was enough thinking of Charlie, he had horrors to build and he wanted to add a little something extra to the watch. To work!
~X~
Du'Met kept his eyes firmly focused on his new visitors. Summoning them to the castle had been practically child's play. He had so many new traps for them to experience and Du'Met could hardly wait to see the carnage their lives would soon become. Gareth McAndrews had actually put on a pretty good show of seeming confident and genuine when he'd guided them in – natural talent for acting it seemed. Gareth had certainly played the part better than Joseph Morello had. Morello had been jumpy and awkward but Gareth had been embezzling from his father's company for years now and had grown accustom to lying. When police looked in to Gareth's and Samantha's disappearances they'd discover the embezzling and it would raise just enough questions to throw them off the kidnapping idea, then of course they'd find the car and there would be just enough doubt for any idea they came up with be that: kidnapping, fleeing or accident. The embezzlement had been the primary reason Du'Met had chosen the McAndrews' as his victims.
The vacation winners were idiots who suspected nothing and would easily fall prey to his craps. Ultimately that was Du'Met's favorite bit, the moment when it finally dawned on them they'd been dammed the second they'd boarded the cable ferry and the Devil was on the hunt for them. Oh, when they inevitably gave up and the cowards started to beg.
Gareth had been instructed to proceed straight to room 176 once he'd gotten the guest book signed and handed out keys. Told Gareth that room 176 was where his wife would be returned to him and they'd be finally allowed to leave. He wanted the five newcomers not Gareth and his wife, so the dark-haired man had come running as soon as the new prey was out of sight and practically tried to barge through the door in his haste. Unfortunately for Gareth and amusingly for Du'Met the magnetic lock had been in place and he'd simply bounced off almost comically. With a grin Du'Met released the lock from his control room, then headed through his hidden network of shortcuts and into a little room he'd built between two of the guest rooms. It was a little larger than his favorite hidden spot in the last castle and oddly shaped due to a flight of stairs, but mirrors allowed him into either hotel room and he had a good amount of space to store whatever he needed in there. Though he'd recreated several of the original murder castle rooms neither of Du'Met's hotels of horrors were perfect.
In the corner of the secret room, under the angled ceiling caused by the aforementioned staircase, was Sam duct taped to a swivel chair. She had a black hood over her head and only wore the tan coat to cover her naked body, her red hair was an abysmal mess Du'Met had gagged her when she'd not stopped pleading with him to release her – odd, she'd not mentioned freeing Gareth once, never said free us instead of free me.
Slowly Du'Met strode toward Sam and pulled the hood off, the lights were low in the secret room but that didn't stop her squinting. Her face was red, puffy and coated in dried tears and frankly Du'Met thought it ugly. He lifted his trusty blade to her face and brushed it softly down her cheek as the tears started up again, she tried to pathetically beg but the gag thankfully kept her quiet for the most part; Du'Met still nicked her cheek though just to really drive home the idea to keep her mouth shut.
Sam's blood looked so pretty as it dribbled down her cheek, it had been too long since he'd killed and it had started to grate on him. Samantha McAndrews had been boring and dull, nothing like Charlie who'd begged but somehow stood his ground all at the same time. No, nobody could be like his wonderful phoenix.
With Sam quiet Du'Met unlocked the mirror door and wheeled her into room 176 here her husband awaited them anxiously.
"Please give me my wife back." Gareth pleaded.
Sam tried to call out to Gareth but the gag did it's job well. Du'Met proffered a folded slip of paper which Gareth eyed cautiously before he finally grew enough balls to take mostly due to the sharp knife at his wife's throat. Once unfolded he stared at it a moment almost confused before speaking.
"Read – read this aloud." He stuttered. "You are – you are free to leave the hotel – wait really?!" Du'Met simply stared expectantly. "Follow the instructions on the back to reach the ferry and – and operate it. If you speak I will k-" Gareth paled dramatically. "I will kill you both. If you tell anyone on the outside of me or what happened here, I will come for you and … make you watch her die. Do not deviate from the path and instructions I have given you or I will kill you. Good- goodbye, Mister McAndrews. Also, some advice: in future be more aware of your surroundings."
The serial killer nodded clearly pleased that Gareth and Sam had listened and cut Sam free from the chair. With them having no more use to him, Du'Met simply walked back through the mirror door, shut it and faded back into the walls.
For a few moments neither husband nor wife moved like they expected their kidnapper to magically appear again, but when no scary murderer appeared Gareth rushed to Sam's side and ripped the duct tape painfully from her mouth.
"Oh God, get me out of here. Gareth, let's fucking go!"
Panicked and in survival mode, the McAndrews' fled room 176 hand in hand without looking back to the mirror. Together they hauled ass back to the lobby's main door and out into the cool afternoon air. Sam was a petite woman and couldn't quite keep up with her husband's long strides but the grip he had on her hand didn't release. As ordered Gareth kept them to the instructions on the note Du'Met had given him. Along the path, down a small hill, which was actually more of a small slope, and then, just as the cable ferry came into view, the ground gave way beneath them and gravity took them down skewing them on the sharp spikes below.
Sam got of lightly and was dead on impact but Gareth was not so lucky. Gareth lingered on the precipice of death as agony literally shot through his body. He saw a shadow of a man in a hat and knew his end was imminent. Pain, agony, words didn't do the feeling justice. Every nerve ending screamed, each haggard breath birthed a popping sound where a lung had been punctured and the blood that poured down his made Gareth feel as though he'd wet himself. Du'Met's note fluttered down to the bloody floor and it was then that Gareth caught sight of a second piece of paper nailed to the dark wall with a single sentence written upon it in glow in the dark ink. 'I TOLD YOU TO BE MORE OBSERVANT'. Du'Met had warned them, hadn't he. Then, as gravity pulled Gareth and Sam further down the spikes, Gareth's heart finally gave out and he slipped away just as the trap door slapped back up plunging them into darkness.
Du'Met watched every second of this through the cameras from his nerve centre with a smirk. He couldn't dwell on the demise of the McAndrews though so he grabbed his knife and checked it's sharpness before he took a relaxing breath and headed off to start his hunt. The latest prey was his beta test for his new murder castle. The McAndrews would be retrieved soon enough and they'd make lovely spare parts.
~X~
Charlie didn't know if he could take much more of just sitting around in a locked bedroom. He was going fucking insane. All the books had been finished and while not running low on food exactly he would have killed for a vegetable that hadn't been disappointingly microwaved. An orange, that is what he'd started to crave, a nice juicy orange with all the wonderful sweetness and freshness to stave off scurvy. He'd assumed Du'Met would have been back by now and surely he'd have mentioned being gone for such a length of time. Had the cops got him? Fuck, if he'd been arrested then he'd never reveal where he'd hidden Charlie. Hell, no one would ever know Charlie hadn't been killed back when he'd been tied to that fence. If Du'Met didn't return then Charlie would surely die locked in that room and it would become his tomb. No, Du'Met had faked his death before when he'd been still been Hector Munday, he'd not have died so easily and he'd never let himself be captured. Yes, Du'Met would come back to Charlie.
"Yeah, nothing is going to stop Du'Met coming back." The blond nodded to himself. "It's all okay because he'll come back."
Something in the back of his mind told Charlie he still shouldn't have wanted Du'Met back but Charlie ignored it. He needed the killer to come back so Charlie didn't die, that was the only reason he wanted Du'Met's return. Everything would be okay once the masked man had returned and Charlie just to hold out until then. He'd spent so many years being alone, no roommates, no real friends, no lover, not even a cat. Charlie had been practically asexual for years now and he hated it. Every time he'd opened his mouth he said something wrong, relationships never lasted more than a few weeks before they realized they could do better than Charlie or that his work would always come first. Yes, Charlie admitted it, he was something of a workaholic but that was because it was the only constant in his life; the only thing he was really good at. Then again, according to Kate his work was shit. '… looks good on the page' that was what she'd said to Mark up on the balcony. Sure he could be arrogant but that wasn't what defined him like Kate had always made out. Not everything was his fucking fault. Kate had changed half his fucking script for the first season, that was arrogant.
Charlie sighed, he knew he was mentally ranting at himself but he'd finished his books so there wasn't much else to do. The Brit had wanted to save his show when he'd let himself be lured in to Du'Met's trap, but he'd also wanted excitement; being hunted wasn't exactly what he'd been going for but at least it hadn't been boring. Fucking hell, he was probably better off now he was with Du'Met, that was a thought Charlie had found inside his head a few times. He no longer lived with the constant need for a cigarette, ate much more regularly, stressed less and didn't have bill collectors after him. He was better off with a murderer and every time Charlie remembered that he freaked out a little more. What had truly shocked Charlie though was that he didn't fear Du'Met any longer. Sure the masked man could have killed Charlie at any moment but the blond doubted he would at this point. A serial killer treated Charlie with more respect than his crew had. When one looked at it plainly, Du'Met had given Charlie what every working adult dreamt of: three square meals and a nap per day.
Oh God, he wanted the murderer back. Wanted to feel those large hands on him again. Wanted Du'Met's love; if that was what it truly was. Loneliness had started to invade Charlie's body, he felt lonely and it actually hurt. Charlie's last long-term relationship had been back when he'd lived in England and everybody knew just how long ago that had been. It wasn't just that he'd felt lonely either, no it was worse than that, much worse. Charlie fucking missed Du'Met! He missed the serial killer not just human contact in general.
The blue-eyed man tried to calm himself down and decided he'd have a bath, a nice warm bath to sooth his aching muscles and mind. The bathtub filled up quickly while Charlie stripped off his clothing and, right before he stepped into the bath Charlie shook his head to banish thoughts from his mind.
"No more thinking about it."
~X~
While Charlie had his little existential crisis, Du'Met did what he did best and hunted his prey through the castle. Jessie, one of the girls, was already dead. Stupid bitch had panicked, charged off from her friends and fallen down the grand staircase breaking her neck in the process. Du'Met had raised an eyebrow at that because he'd hardly even gotten started and was already down a victim. Good God, the girl had been a danger to herself. How the hell had she survived this long? With Jessie dead a whole section of his traps would just go to waste – travesty, it was a damn travesty. Admittedly he'd chosen a group he'd deemed to be of lesser intellect so he'd known they'd not last long but if his prey started killing themselves then where was the fun? All that said Du'Met wasn't discouraged, he'd just adjust like he always did.
After Jessie was Ashley, she'd thought kicking out a window and climbing up onto the roof was a good idea but she'd got no hope. After the documentary crew had pulled a similar stunt Du'Met had carefully put plans into place to ensure it wouldn't ever happen again. As soon as Ashley had passed by the chimney the steam valve was triggered scalding her; face, eyes, mouth and throat all irrevocably damaged. A new trap for those who thought they could outfox him.
Ashley screamed and tried to shield her face but it little to ease the hot steam's savageness and all was witnessed from the nerve centre. Ashley stumbled, staggered then slipped from the roof, she tumbled down, down, down and splashed into the pond below. Du'Met hadn't been able to stop the small smile which pulled itself up onto his lips, seemed his new steam trap was a marvellous success. Du'Met honestly hadn't expected to see anyone trigger that trap for a while so seeing it so soon was quite a treat. Oh Du'Met always liked a surprise.
The group's resident lovebirds were Shawn and Pip, according to the serial killer's research they'd been together almost five years and seemed to have a very strong relationship, the sort of relationship most aspired to. So, was it any wonder why Du'Met had pushed them toward his latest inspired trap? Together they'd rushed through the maze of hallways in an attempt to escape the masked man stalking them but, just as they turned to the right, the floor gave way and the two were funnelled into two round vats about seven feet high. The lids snapped down to block any escape. It took a split second for the lovers to mentally catch up with what had just happened, but once they had panic set in tenfold. The two vats were cylindrical and transparent, sat hardly a foot apart like something out of an 80s sci-fi movie.
"Shawn, what the fuck is this?" The taller man almost demanded of his boyfriend but before any answer could come Shawn's tank started to fill with cold water pumped in from the Great Lakes surrounding the island.
It bubbled upward violently submerging Shawn up to his knees in seconds and all Pip could so was watch as it started to consume the man he loved. He put up a good fight; kicked, punched and slammed the glass but it refused to give way. He even tried to scamper up to the cap-like lid which Du'Met thought was ingenious but still provided no escape. Du'Met wouldn't have let it be that easy, there wouldn't be any screwdriver tricks like there had been with Jamie and Kate.
"Get me out of here!" Shawn yelled. "Jesus Christ, get me the fuck out of here!"
All that research the serial killer had done had told him Pip would do this, would fight with all his might to save Shawn because he was noble and truly loved his partner; the man was damn right altruistic. Finally though he had to accept he'd not be able to bust free of his cylindrical prison and that was the moment a small podium with a button dropped down from the lid with a printed sign that caused Pip's stomach to drop.
Shawn caused the water – which was now at his waist – to slosh dramatically as he pressed himself against the curved glass.
"What is it? What does it say?"
Du'Met liked these traps, the ones where people had to choose themselves or the life of another. The ultimate game of life, to choose to save their own life or to fight that urge for self-preservation and die so another could live. The ultimate mind game and Du'Met loved every second.
I love you, those were Pip's last words to Shawn before he slammed the button and it retracted up into the lid. For a second nothing happened, then the water bubbled up in Pip's vat like a geyser and the consequences of his actions suddenly dawned on him. People weren't supposed to die in their thirties, they weren't meant to die in a tube of water in a darkened room for a serial killer's pleasure. He wanted to think it didn't matter, that Shawn would survive so it was all worth it, but that didn't stop the fear from surging through him body and soul. He shook uncontrollably, hands shivered in the rising water and vomit tried to force its way up his throat but there hadn't been any dinner so there wasn't much bile to begin with. Shawm smashed against his own glass prison, he screamed and kicked and refused to give up, but Pip had quickly gone deaf to it all. Death. He was going to die and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. He'd dammed himself.
"S- Shawn," began the doomed man with a stutter. "Shawn, I-"
"Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare just accept this! He's been fucking with us this whole time and he's not taking you too! Jessie is dead. Will and Ashley are probably dead too by now." Tears rolled down Shawn's face. "Please- please don't-"
"It's okay."
And then the water engulfed Pip and all they could do was stare at each other with love while they still had the chance.
Just as with choking, television didn't do a very good job of depicting drowning. At first Pip felt no pain floated like anybody taking a leisurely swim in a pool, but, as time went on, his lungs started to scream out in desperation for fresh air. Of course he did all he could to force the urge down but it only grew, stronger and stronger and stronger until finally his body shoved his brain aside and forced him to gulp in the icy water surrounding him. Shuddered movements filled his lungs, it burnt and froze all at the same time. Then, with his lover still calling out his name, Pip's life slipped away and became little more than another number for Du'Met. It was all over, the body sank face down to the bottom of the tank; limp, lifeless, like a bug sealed in amber.
Du'Met watched it all from the nerve centre with a small smirk underneath his mask. He let Shawn take the sight in, wanted it to haunt him until the moment Du'Met killed him with his own hands. Eventually the glass tank lifted and Shawn tumbled out onto the concrete with a thud; soaked but physically unharmed.
Du'Met released the door then returned to his hunt. He'd missed this, missed the killing, he'd felt as though he'd been strapped down unable to move. That was all over now, Du'Met had more to kill and then he'd go salvage Gareth and Sam McAndrews for parts.