By some miracle, Rick, Greg, Eloise and Lucille had managed to stumbled across one another in the wallpapered halls – well, it was more of a slam then a stumble since the two men practically scrambled over one another as the two groups had hurtled around a corner. A few seconds passed before they realized who each other was, but once they had a collective sigh of relief escaped them. They'd wanted a nice weekend vacation as a family where they could forget the stresses of work and their day-to-day lives, yet after the horror's they'd experienced in such a short amount of time, those stresses seemed almost non-existent.
"Oh my God." Exclaimed Eloise breathlessly. "Are you okay? We have to get the fuck out of here!"
Lucille shook her head quickly. "We have to fine Rosalie."
"There's some fucking serial killer with a fucking knife back there." The black man thrust a finger back down the hall. "He just killed the fucking groundskeeper and we're next."
"What?"
"He killed someone, Rick."
"Who did?" Lucille had seen a scary murder dummy, she'd not seen anything genuinely violent.
Greg threw his hands up. "Du'Met, Rathelin, I don't fucking know – maybe they're the same damn person. I've only seen Rathelin and the groundskeeper and now he's dead." When Rick stupidly asked if Greg was sure he found himself glared at. "A goddamn scythe just went through his motherfucking chest! Yes, I'm fucking sure."
The eldest sister managed to calm down first – probably due to her being hyper-focused on her daughter. People called it 'mama bear mode' for a reason.
"Okay, okay, we have to find Rosalie. We find her and Heidi then we get the hell out."
"Agreed." Said Eloise almost before Lucille had finished talking. "I'm not staying here with some murderer one more second than I have to."
Greg may have been the patriarch of their family but Rick was the smart one, always had been and always would be; that was how he ended up poking the holes in their plan. Part of him hated himself for bringing it up and adding to the terror of his loved ones, but it had to be said and nobody else looked as though they intended to.
"How do we get off the island? That ferry needs a key and I bet you that deranged bastard has it."
Greg shrugged. "Boat. Du'Met and Rathelin, or however many of them there are, had to get here so of course they have a boat. We just have to find the dock."
"I just want Rosalie."
Charlie watched all of this from his collection of cameras but found himself wondering if he and the other members of Lonnit Entertainment had looked quite so pathetic; so panicked and hectic. Charlie was better than that now, he'd evolved into something better, something stronger and Charlie was proud of his transformation.
Crying drew the blond's attention then and his head snapped back to his bedroom door; seemed the drugs had worn off earlier than expected. For a moment he thought about just ignoring her but that would surely only cause more problems.
"Mommy!" The child cried, voice loud and laced with desperation. "Mommy!"
Slowly Charlie shifted the large box he'd used to block the door and headed inside where he found Rosalie red-faced with her purple teddy bear squeezed close to her chest. Charlie couldn't help but think her so small and adorable.
"Hi, sweetheart." Charlie began with as gentle a voice as he could muster. "No need for tears."
Quickly he rummaged around in her bag which he'd taken along with the little girl, and soon discovered a juice box that he jabbed the straw into as he went to perch on the bed.
"Where's Mommy?"
The blond's head tilted a little as he tried to figure out how exactly to phrase his answer. Just telling her he and his lover were in the process of brutally murdering her entire family wouldn't have ended well.
"She's gone away for a while, darling. You'll be okay with me though."
Rosalie's brow furrowed. "Who are you?"
He may have been guilty of not always thinking things through but Charlie wasn't dumb enough to tell a four-year-old girl his name, real or fake, so he scooted around the subject.
"I'm the one with the juice." He smiled. "Here."
Rosalie stared at the juice box with teary eyes a moment, almost with suspicion, then she took it and started to sip. The juice box distracted Rosalie which was just what Charlie had wanted. Children were normally easily distracted with such trivial things and Rosalie Patterson was no different.
The blond stared at her quietly. Charlie didn't hate kids, had nothing against them or anything like that, he'd just never really spent that much time around children even when he was one himself. To be honest he never really thought about children; they were something which existed but didn't enter Charlie's world. He'd honestly never expected to ever have one of his own but at least he apparently had enough skill to keep little Rosalie calm rather than her screaming the building down and upsetting his lover.
While she sipped her drink, Charlie pulled the covers back and fluffed a pillow before he flashed her a smile.
"Ready to go back to sleep, sweetheart?" Asked the Englishman in a calm, level voice.
"Daddy reads stories."
Charlie lifted an eyebrow. This was a strange child, right? She'd gone from demanding her mother to wanting stories, she'd not even thought to question what he'd meant by 'she's gone away' just carried on like it didn't matter. Sure, kids weren't known for their scrutinized form of thinking but with Rosalie it seemed more like … she didn't care. Regardless, Charlie didn't think any of his or Du'Met's books were appropriate for a child of four and, of course, he wasn't her daddy. Yet, that said, he had no desire to start up an argument with a bratty kid.
"Em, okay." He said dragging the second word out. "I guess I can tell you a story, but you have to go to sleep after, yeah?"
After her nod of agreement Charlie settled into the most poorly remembered version of Beauty and the Beast ever told. He'd never been one for fairy tales and Disney's insistence on shoving songs into everything to sell yet another soundtrack had put him off them all the more. Still, the basic plot was universally known and Charlie managed to stumble through in a fairly satisfactory manner because Rosalie did let Charlie pull the covers over her once he was done. It may have been true that they'd drugged her but Rosalie was still a girl of four and had been through a long day, so it wasn't much of a surprise when she slipped off into slumber once more though this time without a helping hand of drugs.
With a small sense of relief, Charlie stood, collected the tape recorder and shifted the box back in front of the door as he left. Rosalie's presence at the hotel had been an accident, Du'Met hadn't intended for her to be there out of respect for his phoenix, so they'd not be put in this situation again and that knowledge alone put Charlie at ease.
A quick look through the cameras showed Du'Met as he chased his victims through his death maze and Charlie breathed out a vaguely affectionate laugh. He remembered when Charlie himself had been one of those victims and how Du'Met had never needed to break into a run, he just kept coming at the slow, terrifying pace like Death himself. That calm, controlled confidence which seeped out of every pour put the fear of God into people because he knew nobody could escape him. Those of Lonnit Entertainment had been the exceptions and Charlie liked to think the controlled walking was because it gave off a wave of invincibility, and Du'Met may well have been invincible.
For several moments Charlie watched his lover do his thing, watched him follow with that slow determination of his until he managed to separate them into pairs; which seemed more luck than judgement but Charlie wouldn't comment. Du'Met let Lucille and Greg slip off down one hallway while Rick and Eloise were herded towards the basement stairs, the door to which had been opened earlier, and the two hurried down them; in their haste Rick even tumbled which had Du'Met smirk to himself as he watched them from the top of the staircase. Then, seemingly without a care in the world, he closed the door and strutted away as his radio crackled to life.
"Granthem, I have that recording you wanted."
The serial killer didn't respond or even glance down at his radio on his belt, although, he did pause to look up at camera sixty-one and mouthed a 'thank you' as he tipped his hat; It was silly but Du'Met knew his dark phoenix would get a kick out of it. Soon after Du'Met's leather-clad feet carried him into the control room the blond often referred to as the 'director's suite' to fetch his recorder. He listened to the recording of little Rosalie shouting out for her mother, then kissed his lover and tucked it away in a pocket before he tapped out a few words on Charlie's upper arm.
"How's she doing?" Du'Met nodded. "She's fine, went back off to sleep. Rosalie is surprisingly amenable. Did you finish moving your toys about?" From the killer escaped a small noise that Charlie took to be an affirmative. "Not often a victim gets a tailored trap."
The pair kissed quickly again and Du'Met returned to his hunt, he'd stalk and chase and pursue until blood stained the walls and corpses littered the halls. To enter the murder castle was a death sentence. Charlie had risen from the ashes to stand proudly beside Du'Met and four others had escaped due to his distraction, but that had been an isolated occurrence which wouldn't ever be repeated. Those who arrived would die – except for Rosalie Patterson of course, he had made a promise to his adored Charlie after all.
~X~
Rick
Basement
23:14pm | August 3
Meanwhile, Eloise and Rick had been forced into a small basement room by Du'Met. It wasn't an overly large space, two doors, one before them and one behind, and the ceiling wasn't all that heigh either – if Rick were to stand in the centre and stretch his arms out, his fingertips would have almost brushed either side. Overhead a series of small pipes akin to a sprinkler system had been fitted and there were only a few tiny pockets of lights to keep the darkness at bay.
To her husband Eloise clung for comfort, but, when a drip escaped the sprinklers, she jumped back in agony with a hiss of pain. It burnt, it burrowed into her skin and grabbing her cheek only made it worse.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Rick pulled Eloise's hand away from her face and gulped. "Oh fuck, is that acid?"
Suddenly a spotlight lit one corner and a section of wall spun around revealing one of Du'Met's animatronics dressed in an old-fashioned ringmaster's outfit complete with top hat. Eloise hid behind her husband but the black man had nothing to protect himself. The ringmaster's head tilted to one side then the other simply to increase the fear the couple felt, then it lifted it's top hat like the perfect showman and a recorded, antiquated voice spoke.
"Step right up, step right up! Solve the puzzle, stay alive. Don't solve it or take too long and die!"
Then, as quickly as it had appeared the first time, the brick wall spun around once more and the ringmaster vanished and in its place sat a single sheet of paper. Mouths fell open to question what they'd just witnessed no sound managed to escape because a large timer lit in red appeared above the door opposite them: Five minutes, five minutes would be all they got to solve whatever puzzle faced them.
Another drop escaped the pipes above and burnt through the fabric at Rick's shoulder causing him to jolt away.
"Oh God, you were right, Rick. Those sprinklers are acid not water."
Five minutes and then those sprinklers would rain down death upon them quite literally. Two sets of eyes stared at the sheet of paper as though it were a ticking bomb but eventually Eloise built up enough courage to grab and read it.
" It says 'at the same time enter the code'." They glanced over to the other door where a number pad flanked either side. " Em, 'first: the years you've been married'."
Rick shrugged. "Three, simple."
"Yeah. 'Second: month of your births.' We're both February, so two. 'Third: times-' " Eloise stumbled a moment in surprise and her head snapped to her husband with shock.
"What?"
" 'Times Rick cheated this year.' You actually cheated on me?
"Wait, what? No, of course I fuckin' haven't." Rick insisted. "This is just that fucker tryin' to mess with us. I'd never do that to you, Ellie."
Eloise breathed out because she clearly didn't believe him. "Yeah, sure you wouldn't. All the late nights and the way you hide your phone like a teenage girl with a fucking crush."
"I haven't cheated on you!" Yelled the dark-skinned man before he snatched the page from his wife to read the last bit. "Fourth: number of … abortions Eloise has had." Rick just stared at her with the timer seemingly forgotten. "What did you fuckin' do?"
"Nothing."
"Oh, so you can accuse me of cheatin' but you lyin' to me about anythin' is too fuckin' far?!"
Suddenly she thrust a finger up at the timer which continued to tick down. "We're running out of time. Let's just put in 3200."
They were down to two and a half minutes and needed to do something beyond yelling and arguing.
"Not gonna be fuckin' right though, is it? Just tell m-"
"One, okay! One! I don't want kids, I never did especially if it's going to be as fucking strange as Rosalie. And why should I tell you what I do with my body?!"
"Because It was my fuckin' kid too. You should have at least told me, you bitch!" Rick snapped all while a camera watched everything unfold.
"Go fuck yourself, Rick. I'm not telling the asshole I know is cheating on me shit!"
Rick threw his hands up. "Fine. Yes, I fuckin' cheat on you all the goddamn time. Eight this year alone! You're a frigid bitch half the time so of course I have to look somewhere else."
"Asshole!"
"Just put the fuckin' code in and shut your mouth."
Eloise wanted to scream something back at her unfaithful husband but then she caught sight of the timer and just how much time they'd wasted. 3281, that was the code they needed but they'd left themselves with twelve seconds and panic made syncing things harder. Fingers moved quickly but each time the code pads rejected them and more seconds ticked away until finally the sprinklers burst to life and doused the couple. Screams erupted, first quietly and then desperate, horrendous screeches as skin burnt and melted, as the scent added insult to injury and they each collapsed on the ground writhing in agony. All the fighting and hate they'd felt for one another had given way to pleas for rescue that nobody would ever hear; nobody but the shadow Rick spied out the corner of his eye before the acid blinded him.
Heidi had fallen victim to Du'Met's latest trap creations out of stupidity, Rosalie had been taken by Charlie due to her innocence, and now Rick and Eloise had let rage get the better of them and paid the price; they'd chosen poorly.
~X~
Back in the nerve centre Charlie muted their screaming lest he develop a headache. Once Du'Met had finished with his savage killings and Charlie had completed his editing, the footage of the Patterson's and their family would give Charlie a beautiful documentary film he could be proud of. It would be raw, it would be powerful, it would be brutal in it's elegance, and, most importantly, it would be directed by one Charlie Lonnit. Art could be all kinds of things but Charlie's was unapologetic and, with Du'Met as his leading man, would capture the attention of anyone who saw it – not that anybody would see it save for himself and Du'Met of course. Nobody seeing his masterpieces during life was a weight he'd have to bear in exchanged for being allowed to create; that said, Johannes Vermeer, Søren Kierkegaard, Galileo Galilei and Oscar Wilde only got the recognition and fame they deserved after their deaths and Charlie suspected he'd be the same. No, there wouldn't be any coveted awards for Charlie, no Hollywood deals nor magazine articles for his fame wasn't to be the frenzied chaos normally seen in the media of modern day, he'd become one of those immortal names like Edgar Allan Poe who weren't afraid to show the macabre to the world.
Charlie glanced over to his shelves which waited patiently for each instalment that Charlie would direct as pride swelled inside him. There wasn't anybody to hold his vision back any longer, not his crew with their insistence they knew better or than Charlie wasn't as good a director as he thought nonsense, not his mother who'd always told him directing wasn't a real job, not any of the other people who'd pushed him down over the years. Granthem Du'Met had seen the potential in Charlie and, just like a phoenix, had allowed him to spread his wings.
The Englishman grinned for he couldn't wait to see what he and Du'Met accomplished together.