Whew, this bit is taking so long it looks like I’m going to have to split it into three chapters. Anyway, this bit is fun, because there’s some of the old ultra-violence. Also, no quote.
Chapter 4
A deafening shot exploded throughout the room, tailed lengthily by reverb as smoke blew out from the barrel of The Monster’s revolver, flying briefly in random directions before fading into oblivion. The gun was pointed at the ceiling. It had been a warning shot.
Benjamin and Daniel continued to back away – the latter panicking, the former remaining calm to all appearances. They eventually retreated so far that they inevitably ended up back at the door they’d entered through, and although neither of them recalled shutting it, the thing had somehow managed to close itself quite tightly. There really wasn’t much to go back to, but, all the same, they appeared to be stuck. Daniel, however, was still madly checking the door for a weakness, anything he could exploit. Without looking back, he asked Benjamin if the Monster at the plastic house had moved at all. Benjamin looked back and squinted, but noticed no significant activity. The Monster straightened his tie, and nothing more.
After Daniel had given up on the door, the two of them decided to further test the boundaries of the situation. Trying to discern just how close to it they would be allowed, they approached the plastic house again. They watched The Monster very closely, knowing that in his subtle fashion he was doing the same, and that any misstep could cause a flinging of lead. But he did nothing, and as they reached an adjacency which had seemed suicidal a moment ago, he continued to do nothing – though he never stopped watching them (this manifested itself almost exclusively through body language, as The Monster had no eyes). Daniel would very much have liked to think of a circumvention to this horrific obstacle, but he was far too distressed to put his thoughts in any logical order. And Benjamin, it seemed, was not even bothering to put in an effort. Instead, he seemed to be waiting for a solution to walk in front of it. This irritated Daniel, and pricked him with feelings of isolation.
Still unsure of what to do, everyone simply stood their ground, the two companions looking around for a solution to the stalemate. Their opponent remaining unsettlingly focused; determined, apparently, to block their progress. But then something else came into play, like a higher power had noticed the stagnation and sought to break it up. Noises from the inside of the plastic house; footsteps, a door closing rather noisily, and things of similar nature. The Monster, remarkably emotive even without a face, appeared to visibly register this; he pointed the gun at Benjamin, then Daniel, slowly alternating as he gracefully opened the door behind him with his other hand. He then backed into the house, and shut the door again, presumably to tend to whatever was going on inside. Benjamin peered into the window, and saw The Monster disappear atop a stairway. Immediately he began to enter the house, but was stopped momentarily by Daniel, who grabbed him by the shoulder as he was opening the door.
“What are you doing?” Daniel hissed, demanding and terrified at the same time. He had not yet calmed down.
Benjamin looked over his shoulder, and pushed off the hand. He spoke as if there were only one adult among them.
“We still have a ways to go. This isn’t any time for hysterics.”
Daniel, who did not know exactly what this was supposed to mean, aborted further inquiry upon hearing Benjamin’s tone. It was the tone of someone who refused to argue. Backing off, he leaned against the house nervously as his companion resumed entry.
The house, Benjamin noticed, was the same on the inside; the structure itself was all brightly colored plastic. Despite this, the light fixtures to be quite real. They also, however, operated in a sort of twilight – too bright to be dark, but too dim to be bright. The entire floor was cramped and shadowy; the only sound was that of appliances, and their eternal background buzz. Finding himself alone, Benjamin noted that this locale was not a particularly pleasant one, but, in light of its purpose, did not frighten him. To his left was a modest kitchen, its countertop a chaotic explosion of colorful utensils and half-eaten food, interspersed with small piles of powder. A pair of oversized oven mitts lay on the floor. To his right was a living room, equally modest, but much barer than the kitchen, furnished only by a plastic folding chair, an odd wooden TV, and a generic houseplant. These particular items all appeared to be reals. The screen silently blared fast-cut images of actresses and models, draping a hellish, twisting light across the room, fighting the monotonous yellow dimness with an endless stream of perfect breasts and teeth. The chair, positioned to view all this, was without occupant. The houseplant sat dying on the sidelines, having obviously fallen through the cracks of someone’s schedule.
Still, Benjamin showed no interest in these things. He glanced over them, and went straight for the staircase ahead of him, but stopped at the sound of a commotion upstairs. Two sets of shoes, but only one voice; it produced exertions which implied a fight. Benjamin, moving towards the stairs, was stopped again by an even more severe interruption; there was a shout of “Motherfucker!” And in a loud blur of occurrences, The Faceless Man from before came tumbling backwards down the stairs, turning a painful somersault before crashing to the bottom, into Benjamin’s path. Somewhere behind them all, Daniel peered nervously through the window before disappearing again.
The Monster lie crumpled, groping like an infant, silent but obviously in great pain. Benjamin watched him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do – when, amazingly, and suddenly, The Monster found the strength to pick himself back up. He stopped a moment to adjust the collar of his jacket, though was still unbelievably neat. More footsteps came from upstairs; The Monster responded by pulling something out of his pocket, like he’d been waiting for the sound. He unfolded it, something silver. A straight razor.
Benjamin leapt at the weapon without thinking, trying to pry off the hand enclosed around it. Like lightning, the weapon swung by him, and suddenly he was afraid; the struggle continued, but he quickly realized that it was a losing battle. The Monster’s grip on the razor was immaculate, and there was a frightening determination behind that blank flesh. Benjamin was not a weak man, but his years of suburban pedestrianism had left him rather ill-prepared.
Up the stairs, a cylinder popped out of its carbon steel frame.
(OneTwoThreeFourFive)
The cylinder swung back in with a snap which no one noticed. Sights lined up on a swinging tangle of limbs, one of which held a shining, silver blade. The sights shook slightly, but did not stray. Their target landed a blow on his opponent, knocking him backwards. He stumbled to the floor. Now they were separated, and all was set.
Benjamin climbed hastily to his feet, aching from the uppercut he’d been dealt, but determined not to lose. This aberration was part of the test, and had to be overcome. But before he could act, The Monster’s hip suddenly exploded in a spray of crimson fluid as the deafening jolt of gunfire rang through the small room. Its recipient leaned back against the plastic wall, trying to recollect strength, but his blank white face was punctured by a second shot, gun barrel and flesh blowing their contents simultaneously.
This was, quite obviously, the end of The Faceless Man, The Monster. His flawless suit was now crumpled and spattered with blood, a sprinkling hole his sole facial feature. He remained upright for a moment, propped up by the wall, but soon slid down under his own weight and hit the floor quietly.
The smoking gun did not dawdle in revealing itself, and almost immediately Benjamin saw a thirty-something year old man come hastily down the stairs. He was not unhandsome, but still very much resembled an everyman, and sported (in Benjamin’s opinion) a mildly unappealing stubble. He had moderately straight hair of respectable length, ear length, and of the darkest possible brown. He wore a weathered black T-shirt, long sleeved; it was entirely blank save for the depiction of a white eye in the center, staring vaguely upward. His pants were well-fitting navy blue cargos, collecting neatly around generic brown hiking boots like strange, new-age bell-bottoms. All of his clothing had been considerably roughed up.
“Hello!” He said hurriedly to Benjamin, climbing down the stairs and carefully stepping over the corpse he‘d made.
The man put the Detective Special into his back pocket. “I presume I’m not here to hurt you, so don’t worry.” Turning back to the body, he pulled open the bloodied jacket to reveal a shoulder holster, which he removed from its former owner and proceeded to strap on himself.
“That was pretty good of you, distracting him like that.”
Benjamin nodded.
The man put the gun back in its place, and made a few final adjustments. Then, rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed the dead man by the legs.
“Er, help me with this.”
Rather skeptically, Benjamin complied. Together they dragged him clear of the bright yellows stairs, careful not to bloody their hands. The man continued along a schedule that, seemingly, only he was aware of.
“Alright, come on. If there’s more of those around-” he pointed to the body, “-then we have to get the hell out of dodge.”
He had started walking back to the stairs when Benjamin, realizing the danger, remembered that Daniel was still cowering outside, and blurted out “Wait!”
The man stopped.
“There’s another; I’ll go fetch him.”
Benjamin went briskly back to the front door, and exited into the outer darkness.
He looked left – nothing.
He looked right – Daniel peered back at him from around the corner of the house.
“Daniel! We’ve got to leave,” Benjamin called, making the appropriate gesture. Daniel nodded, only slightly less terrified than before, and went along. In a moment’s time they had all assembled at the foot of the stairs. Daniel did not speak to their unnamed third companion, and instead quietly inspected the toy house they were standing in, as well as the shell of their one-time aggressor in the corner with some confusion.
It became apparent at this juncture that two had now become three, and (though they did not think it directly) they each found themselves comfortable with this number.
Then the second of silence was over. The unnamed third member, now a few steps back up the stairs, began to speak – however, Benjamin unwittingly interrupted him.
“There’s-”
“And who are you?”
“Chris, and don’t ever ask what that’s short for.” He spoke fast and sure, beckoning them to follow as he continued. “There’s a fourth person up there; I might need your help in getting her out, but we’ll see.” They had reached the second floor, which was a single, dark room. “Just stay cool.”
Though mostly empty, the yellow, plastic floor was littered sparsely with some real oddities. Most notably, a host of cardboard standups; people, all pointed at the right-hand side of the room (a few of them had been knocked over, presumably in Chris’ fight with The Faceless Man). To the left, there was only a sad metal cart; the legs ending in little wheels, and the surface stocked with various wares which were too distant to identify. A bare bulb on either side brightened the room, but only just so; the slanted ceiling was barely visible, and shadows ate up the meager light.
And then they saw what the cutout people were staring so keenly at. Chris looked first, already familiar with the room; Daniel and Benjamin were next, and upon approaching the yellow pool of light, it was they who were hit most severely with the awfulness of what sat at the end of that attic.
The human Barbie doll.
