Chapter Seventeen: Personal Hell

(4:30 am)



Hiro and Heather ran. They were both tired, and Heather really wasn't in good shape at the moment. He realized that in a matter of moments, they could die. Luckily for them, the three Smileys chasing them only had bats, though he knew what those bats could do if they were used in the way he knew they were gonna use them.


They rounded the corner, and Hiro spun around, aiming his gun.

The three pursuers rounded the corner seconds after they did, and Hiro fired off three rounds. The first round hit one right between the eyes, the second hit him another the cheek, but the third shot missed. The survivor drew too close, and too quickly. He felt the bat hit his left arm, and heard a crack.

He screamed in intense agony as the bone broke through his flesh and began to drip with blood. The Smiley aimed for another hit, but Hiro stumbled backwards to avoid it.

He fell over, and was certain this would mean their deaths.

However, a loud crack behind him signified that this wasn't the case, and Mr. Smiley would no longer have the privilege of being among the living.

The shell hit the man in the chest, and he flew back about a foot or two, landing on top of his dead comrades, moaning in pain. Hiro got up slowly, and took note that Heather had used the sawn-off to dispatch the bastard. Hiro picked up his gun, and walked right up to him.

Smiley 8: "Barry! No, please don't Barry! I'm sorry! We can work things out, can't we?! Think of the children! Think of the children!"

He fired off a shot right into the man's forehead, and he begged no more. Checking over his arm, Hiro found it was throbbing with intense pain. He hated that feeling, as if there was a massive pulse in his arm- it couldn't be ignored.

Hiro: "Fuck."

Heather: "Damnit...Of all the things...I'm sorry, Hiro."

Hiro: "Sorry for what?"

Heather: "I should have shot him earlier..."

Hiro: "Don't worry about it. It hurts like a sonovabitch, but it's okay. We can make it out of here if we hurry."

Heather: "We have to find Vince."

Hiro: "Damnit...He's probably dead, you know that right?"

Heather: "It doesn't matter! You're saying that we should just leave 'cause he might be fucking dead?! He could be alive, and we could be his only goddamned motherfucking hope! You fucking prick! We aren't leaving until we know for sure!"

Hiro: "I never said we'd leave without him, I'm just making sure you know he might be dead?"

Heather: "I fucking know that, but Vince has saved me twice today, and saved you!"

Hiro: "I fucking know that."

Heather: "Then what the hell are we waiting for!"

She had changed. He noticed how this whole series of events took away her innocence...He heard once that the first casualty of war was innocence...But it seems that innocence is usually a casualty in just about any harsh situation. Forcing to watch sick, twisted bastards attempt to rape you, forced to watch horrible, sadistic deaths...No, murders. They weren't just deaths, they were murders. We might have a justified reason for committing these horrendous crimes, but we still are goddamned psychopathic murderers!

They proceeded to walk back from where they came, and Hiro secretly prayed that they wouldn't run into that monster again. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that thing? It looked human, but then again it didn't. I mean, who the fuck could take that many bullets without showing signs of pain? Even guys in flak-jackets or Kevlar gear showed signs of pain when shot. Hell, they'd usually fly back outright...

If they did run into it, they'd have no choice but to get the flying Philadelphia fuck out of there. Though he'd feel bad that they left Vince to his possible death, some things were more important. If there was no way in hell you could save someone, why suffer more casualties trying?

It would probably eat him up 'till the day he died (Which could be any fuckin' minute from now), but it didn't matter...At least he would be able to save one person...

Jon woke up feeling intense pain throughout his body. God...He'd couldn't remember if he had ever been in this much pain in his life, but it didn't matter. He was feeling a helluva lot of pain at the moment.

Jon stood up, and looked at the window. He fell about two stories, but had his fall broken by tree branches. Not the most comfortable way down, but it was better than a straight fall. And at the same time, the throbbing tingle buzzing about his nerves was sort of erotic.

He felt sharp pain in his back, and was sure he had pieces of glass lodged in it. He tried to walk, but his ankle was all screwy. It wasn't broken...No...Probably just twisted or sprained...Fucking miracle that he didn't break any bones or die, though he didn't mind death or pain...It's just he'd prefer not to die here, or be really fucked up here.

That thing...It was impressive, was a snazzy dresser without a doubt, but was now definitely on his shit list. Fucker smacked him out a window with a piece of dead animal...You just don't do that unless they deserved it, and he really didn't see how or why he would deserve such a thing.

But it didn't matter...His work was almost finished...He just now had to kill Hiro, Vince, and that goddamned motherfucking whorish bitch slut who some other whore named Heather.

Goddamned two timing bitch. She would die a very, very, VERY painful death. He could have his fun with her after death and guarantee his pleasure, or before and guarantee her pain. Damn it, arrogance versus practicality once again. He'd decide later.

Vince slowly made his way through the asylum. He heard more gunshots, and prayed that it wasn't "Turkeyhead" having his fucked-up way with Heather and Hiro. Jesus...He fired fifteen fuckin' rounds into the back of that thing's skull, and it still got up and walked away. How the fuck could it do that?!

It didn't matter...What mattered was getting the fuck out of this hellish city, alive.

He ran down the hallway some more, and heard a scream. He stopped dead in his tracks, and pressed his back to the wall...

He crept along it slowly, and peaked his head around the corner.

He saw Turkeyhead pick up a Smiley and it was beating him with a slow, methodic rhythm against the cell bars. It gave up on this after the victim couldn't even comprehend the pain anymore, and pressed with all the might of... Whatever the fuck it was. The result was a symphony of moist snaps and crunches that echoed through the halls, and a Smiley who no mortician, no matter how skilled, could bring to look human again. He was on the other side of the bars. The bars had not faltered, Turkeyhead had not faltered, the Smiley's body had.

Blood, guts, bone, and other bodily shit poured all over the concrete.

Jesus...That thing was stronger than he imagined...

The thing looked in his general direction, and Vince quickly pulled his head back to behind the corner...

Shit, he spotted me. I'll be dead in moments.

But that was not the case, it seemed. He heard its lumbering footsteps walk away from him.

Good. But now he had to find the others before it did. Jesus.

He turned back around, and took a different route, going through the guardrooms, locker rooms, etc. He saw corpses everywhere. He knew it was the work of either (a) Gray, (b) Hiro, or (c) Turkeyhead. He was sure it was either Gray or Turkeyhead though, due primarily to how horrendous the bodies looked. Fuckin' mutilated. Only Gray or the beast was capable of that. Hiro might kill one sadistically, but not that sadistically.

But Vinny, what about you? Your 'victims' were mutilated. The murders were probably more sadistic than Gray's.

Fuck you. Now's not the time for this shit.

Oh, really? I think it's the perfect time for this shit. You're a cold- blooded unpredictable psychopathic madman who gets his kicks on death. You're as bad as Starkweather.

No I'm not.

Ugh, not this again. Yes you are!










And the door in front of him crashed open. Shit, now he did it. Turkeyhead was gonna get him now. He turned around and made a mad dash for the door. The beast was slowly walking towards him, but he somehow knew that the thing would know everywhere he went, no matter what. Goddamnit!

It must catch up. It would catch up. The figure was running. They always did. But it always caught up. Black and white. Gray. Shades of gray. A rainbow of gray tones. It kept running. But it would find him. It would batter him until he stopped. It always did.

Jon limped his way back into the building. He didn't know where to go, and he had lost his .38, and he only had his trusty switch-blade. Sure, it would be handy for sneaking up on a guy, but not charging. Specially if they had a gun, or were that beast. That goddamned fucking beast!

When he got home, he would bust out the black tar, get higher than a fuckin' space shuttle, and grab some whore and rape her till she bled. Then, cut her. Cut her up into small fuckin' pieces, and for some reason he wanted to shove the pieces into the microwave. Not sure why, but it would be fun. Perhaps tasty as well, if not greasy.

He walked into the next room, and found what he wanted. Pure luck? No chance. Divine intervention, however, was not out of the question.

He spotted a meat cleaver and a SPAS 12 combat shotgun. Beautiful. He now had the firepower to keep that fucking monster, and any other fuckin' Smiley away while he looked for Vince, Hiro, and Heather...Who shouldn't be that hard to find. All he had to do was follow the gunfire. Sort of like Lucky of Lucky Charms, 'cept he aint no goddamned midget Irishman (Thank god) and it would be very messy at the end of this rainbow.

Heather was never more scared in her life (even surpassing her fright from earlier), yet wasn't showing it. She just wanted to find Vince, and have all three of them get the hell out of there. He saved her from being sexually assaulted twice and saved her life. Jesus. She owed him big. Hiro saved her, but it wasn't as impactful as Vince. Hiro was more like the protector, a bodyguard. He was doing his job, hell he was a cop for Pete's sake.

But Vince...He was like a knight in shining armor, popping up when you think all is lost and saving the day.

She didn't believe what Jon had said, and she wouldn't believe him. Vince wasn't psychopathic, and didn't enjoy this. Hell, he probably had a family and a girl at home, and he wanted to get to them...But damn...She wanted him bad.

They hadn't come across any Smileys, but they had heard massive footsteps occasionally, which showed that Vince wasn't able to finish the monster; but that didn't mean that he kicked the bucket.

No. It could just mean that he couldn't handle it on his own, and got away. She didn't blame him if he did. She didn't think really anything could kill it.

But out of all the things, she was happy. Jon was dead. He couldn't have survived. Thank god...That bastard.

Hiro heard screams, and was sure it was more Smileys getting massacred by the fuckin' beast. Jesus...What was its body count now? Probably most of the entire fuckin' gang!

He heard footsteps coming from behind a door, and readied his Glock.

The door burst open, and he saw Vince come out. He lowered his gun, and smiled.

Hiro: "You son-of-a-"

Vince: "Shut the fuck up! The fuckin' monster is right fuckin' behind me!"

Hiro heard it, and almost shat a brick.

Hiro: "SHIT!"

Vince slammed the door.

Vince: "RUN!"

They all turned and started to run. They ran their fucking asses off away from the door, and about ten seconds of this they heard the door behind them collapse with force, which only the monster could create.

Jon heard screaming, but couldn't recognize the voices. Some moments later, he heard a door break down...The monster was in that direction, and hopefully the shit team was too.

They ran down the corridor, and Vince knew that they would be dead if they slow down.

They ran down a bunch of stairs, and went out into the greenhouse. Why this place would have a greenhouse was anyone's guess, but he didn't give a rat's ass. Probably some pathetic attempt to teach the mentally deranged to grow potted plants.

When they got out into the area, he saw Jon standing there, alive and well.

Vince stopped in his tracks. Hiro and Heather noticed this, and stopped. They saw Jon, and Hiro raised his gun.

Vince: "No!"

Hiro looked stunned, and Jon smiled.

Vince: "I'll deal with him...Just get Heather the fuck out of here...Got it?"

Hiro: "Uh, yeah..."

Heather: "NO! Vince! NO! Come on! Please!"

Vince: "Just go...Now..."

Hiro grabbed her, and carried her to the other end. She was screaming, and attempting to break free from his grasp. It seemed that he had a hard time keeping a hold on her due to his arm, but he managed. After a few minutes, they were gone.

Turkeyhead didn't appear, and he assumed that the beast got sidetracked...Good.

Jon: "How touching. A psychopath has a lady-love who he doesn't wish to be harmed. Very beautiful. Very touching. Speaking of touching, I've got some details about her to dish..."

Vince: "Shut the fuck up, Gray."

Jon: "The name is Jon, cap'n."

Vince: "Whoopdy shit."

Jon: "Your insulting skills rival that of... Hm, well, an American. Or a jar of mayo, either way." Pause. "So. How shall we do this?"

Vince had picked up a meat cleaver, and he saw Jon was pretty much equipped the same way.

Vince: "Meat cleavers..."

Jon: "Fair's fair, although impractical. But I like the drama. Let's dance, honky-bitch."

Vince dropped his shotgun, and Jon did the same.

It would be fun to kill this ingrate son-of-a-bitch with meat cleaver. Though the other two would get away, this would calm him down some. He hoped Starkweather was dead, and he never would know. He wouldn't bother finding out where the mansion was when he finished this prick off. What did it matter?

Jon: "You and I...We have the same love...Though we are different, we have the same love."

Vince: "What?"

Jon: "Murder. Death, snuff, sadism. Whatever you wanna call it."

Vince: "I don't love it, I hate it."

Jon: "Your mouth says no no, but your eyes say yes yes. The same look I've seen in many-a-lady."

Vince: "Fuck you."

Jon: "I don't swing that way, you psychopathic asshole."

Vince: "I'm not a psychopath. You are, remember?"

Jon: "I won't deny that I am a wee bit nutty in the head, but you have lots of screws loose too...You're worse- at least for now. Only because people actually trust you... Damn idjuts."

Vince: "Fuck you. I ain't like that."

Jon: "Sure you ain't, son. Say, here's a typical answer to the question: How many people did you kill today? 'None, you sicko, get away!' So tell me Vince, let's see how your count compares to Joe Average. How many people did you kill today?"

Vince: "It's different! I don't like this!"

Jon: "What is there to be ashamed of, Vince? Honestly, nothing. Ya damn pansy. So you're a wack-job who gets off to killing. Big fuckin' deal. Lots of folks do. It's okay to feel empowered, Vince! Hell, Oprah does this sort of thing all the time I bet, and lookit her!"

Vince: "You're wrong."

Jon: "Am I? I seriously doubt that."

Vince: "Fuck you...Lets get this over with..."

Jon: "Suit yourself."

They began to pace. Circling around. Watching each other like hawks.

They slowly got closer and closer, and then Jon was the first to strike. He swung a left hook, which hit Vince right in the side of the face.

Blood spurted from Vince's mouth, and he just barely dodged a swipe at his ribs. His shirt was cut though, which gave him a great dislike of how close the blow came to his flesh.

Vince countered, and kicked Jon's left leg. The result was forcing Jon to fall to the ground instantly as it was previously injured, but he was greeted by an uppercut to his crotch. He stumbled backwards in pain, and Jon was up in a flash. He made a mad dash at Vince, and swung his cleaver at his head.

Vince ducked the attack, and hit Jon hard in the ribs. He was winded, but it didn't stop him in the least. He swiped the blade downwards, and it cut Vince on the side of the face despite the efforts made to dodge.

Vince stumbled back some more, and when he regained his balance, was greeted by a vicious sidekick, knocking him to the ground instantly as the other man's heel connected with his chest. After a brief disagreement, physics stepped in, and deemed that Vince went into a sprawl.

He rolled several feet to his left to avoid a stomp, and then swung his cleaver at Jon's leg. Jon winced in pain, or perhaps pleasure, but merely countered by slamming his own blade down in a double-handed grip. It hit Vince in the side, creating a large gash.

Vince was up, dripping with blood and hit Jon on the shoulder with his blade, and was greeted with a second hit to the same cut.

They both moaned in pain, and Vince ripped the blade from Jon's shoulder, and brought it into Jon's gut.

Jon groaned, and attempted to break free, but Vince pushed it in deeper.

Blood was dripping like mad from both of them, and they were both growing weaker.

Finally, Vince hit Jon in the face, and Jon fell over.

He proceeded to kick him for a good thirty seconds, and then regained control of himself.

Jon wasn't dead however, but was dying...His breath was getting shorter and wetter. Blood seeped from his leg, torso, and face... And even with all this pain, he still had a smile on. Perhaps he'd eaten McDonalds recently, but more likely it was his nature.

He crawled backwards, and laid his back on a wall...

Jon: "Heh...Te-...Tell me, Vincent...Di-...Did you get a wo-...Did you ge...Get a wood when you were kickin' the shit out of me?"

Vince: "Mohagony..."

Jon: "Ahahaha...Nice...Vince...I have a question for you...H-..."

He trails off. He attempts again, but it is weak and Vince can't hear it...

He should just grab the gun and put him out of his misery...

Vince turned, and walked towards his weapons...He picked up the glock, and loaded a round in the chamber.

Jon: "Vince! I have a question!"

Vince: "What?"

Jon: "How do-..."

He trails off again, and it is weaker...Vince walks slowly towards Jon, and crouches right in front of him. He places the barrel of the gun on Jon's forehead, and Jon raises his left hand placing it on Vince's left shoulder.

Jon: "H-...How does this feel?"

Vince felt hot, intense pain deep in his gut. The blade ripped from the right side of his gut to the left side, and Jon giggled. Vince pulled the trigger, and Jon's brains were splattered on the wall.

Vince fell over, and felt warm. He felt fuzzy. He felt happy, and he felt relieved...He felt all his worries go away. He closed his eyes to blink, and did not open them again.