Hello and welcome back to the Little Writing Workshop of Horrors Story Collaboration Edition. I decided to write chapter 12 since the story seemed to be reverting back to a hiatus, and I wanted to get the ball rolling so it wouldn’t be on the back burner…
I also wanted to chip in again. Can you blame me? I did happen to say when there is a hiatus I would jump in to move things along.
Well, at least it is a story collaboration.
So with that said, who wants to claim chapter 13? Claims on future chapters can begin here and in any other future thread of the Story Collaboration I am hosting.
Recap: In chapter eleven, we pick up from where we left off in chapter nine to where it seems the fight for control between Charles and Dr. Frankensti comes to a head. As Dr. Frankie waits for Z to give him what he needs to move up in Air Proxy’s agency, he starts to worry that Z will betray him to call the cops as he held him hostage. However, Frankie is startled by a noise in the room and when he walks into Z’s office, he discovers Z threw himself out the window.
Dr. Frankie tries to go into the files that Z had on his computer, only to find them locked. Z planned this, he realized, and so he goes on to find the big guns to set his plan of power into motion.
Meanwhile, Z survives the nine story fall by scaling the wall from practice. He begins to contemplate that Frankie must be stopped or he would let the agency crumble from his sadistic measures. On the walk back home, Z discovers someone there waiting for him, gun pressed against the side of his head. Relieved it was not Dr. Frankie, he happily turns around but is faced with a surprise.
It was Dr. Frankie after all.
Charles eventually wins the fight for control, coming back to the sight of him handling a cocked gun against Z.
Below are the rules as are posted with every new chapter to remind old-comers and newcomers how the collaboration works and what is considered acceptable. Know the rules? Just skip down below to read the chapter.
As of chapter seven, the prior rules have changed. Previous authors who have submitted chapters can submit again for future ones. This goes for anyone who submits now as well. Submitted a chapter? You can submit more or claim more in the future. There are no limits, but there is an implied courtesy to not claim chapters one after the next. This is so everyone can have a chance to participate.
When there’s a lull or hiatus in the story, and no one has claimed the chapter, I will jump in to write.
Remember the rules if you want to participate:
- Leave a comment expressing direct interest in writing a chapter. If you’re the first to ask, the writing baton is bestowed upon you for that chapter. You must comment to reserve a place and when it is your turn, I will remind you in the comments section. Clock’s ticking, though! You have three days from that point to write the chapter and send it back to me as well. However, if I don’t hear back past three days, I will be looking for another participant to write the chapter.
- Please do not submit to the form without commenting your interest in writing a chapter. Multiple author submissions are allowed! Submitted a chapter previously? No worries. You can jump in for more anytime. But, you gotta be first to claim it!
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- I will not accept anything religious, outwardly political, hateful, pornographic, slurs, or anything that is demeaning, threatening or harmful in its content. Please nothing that is against a particular group, or anything that demeans a certain group of people that would be considered racist, homophobic, sexist, religious discrimination or prejudice. I will not accept your piece if that is such the case.
No clue what’s going on in the story so far? We got you.
Chapter One by Lucy
Chapter Seven by Lucy
Chapter 12 by Lucy.
Author Acknowledgement: There is some violence and horror in this chapter. It may not be much but it’s still present. Proceed at your own caution.
The gun felt cold in my hands, cocked, ready to fire. Z was shocked, but all I knew was sheer joy. I had made it out, and I was never going back in again.
The void felt pure. Like heaven, if heaven existed. I could see clearly with an array of bone-white clarity in the room. Z, squandered on the edge of his yellow couch, twisted his face into tears, ugly sobs. I was back out and I was going to get answers.
Dr. Frankensti… He still wanted to emerge. He could see through in my eyes that we were going to play the same game now. We were, presently, on similar teams I realized; no one to trust, not even each other when all we have was each other.
He was something I tried to forget, to force myself to never remember. But, he always found a way to resurface just like I find my way through him. He was my brother. He was the man I remembered lying on the boardwalk in that drug trip induced dream when I was out under, out cold.
“They….have….us…now…” It was him, I eventually realized. My monster.
And they were going to use my monster and abuse him—they were going to hinder me, they were going to fucking clone me across different countries for their own militia.
Did they think I would not remember this?
If anything, we can still be the same person. We both realized the danger we were in, but we held different approaches. He was violent, angry at the world, and the people who stabbed him (and me) in the back. I was patient, investigative, looking at all the options as I withhold the key information from the other party. There is always something to lose if information is made known in the first instance. I would say this is the element of surprise because then they have no other choice to take but to take the one you’re offering—like it’s a good deal.
Back to Z… He changes his tune like a senile canary. One day, I’m fearing the possibility of being imprisoned for a murder, at least, I did not commit. The second, he is mister nice guy, giving me the time off I need to recover and jump back into the mission when abled.
Something clicked inside of me, something changed. I was not the patient man I once was, I was now indulging in my personal monster.
I had the power now over him and Z. I knew I cannot let Z be aware that I am not the monster that has been tamed temporarily in front of him.
So, I take a page from Dr. Frankensti.
“Don’t you cry, don’t you cry…” I cooed to Z perfecting my lilt in Dr. Frankie’s mania like I once did with Venus. He was trembling, eyes brimmed with tears. The red and white paintings on the walls were swiftly exposing me to a hungry essence I had to suppress.
We’re not having blood bath soup.
But, I inhale each aroma like an exotic cheese, him overtaking my senses momentarily before I knocked him back in. He couldn’t come out, not now. I needed Z alive. I don’t have it in me to kill him, but Frankie would, and I can’t let that happen just yet. Not like with Venus.
Oh god. Venus.
I put myself mentally back to the warehouse with Venus but in Frankie’s view. I part her hair, wiping a splatter of brain matter off. I popped some to my lips and swallowed. I grabbed the knife again, already warped from my abuse to it, and I pressed it against the small remainder of her flesh. Yellow dripped from the crushed, fettered bone. I heard a crack, and then a slide. I pried the skin even more—the red, the pink; blood poured out still like piss.
I looked into her eyes again. Even reliving it, it gave me tingles in my chest and burning in my throat.
I speared the bindings of her skin, opening up each wound like a flower. I took the knife. “My dear, my dear, why so sad? You are blue now. Is that not sad?” You should be red. Like love.
“I don’t think you’re going to wake, sweetheart. No…” I whispered.
The scalpel impaled what was left of her head. It made a crunching sound like bones in chicken. I continued to stab the corpse over and over, and over. This was not a show. I wanted to show Venus who I was—the part that she never got to see, the part that she helped create.
I can’t put you together again, Venus. I can’t.
I stabbed the knife in her neck, decapitating her head. I pulled it down further. Skin turned from a grisly red and blue to yellow. I took it out and did it again.
I started stabbing her over and over until she looked dismembered. I set down the instrument, scrutinizing my work. Was this what Jackson Pollock felt? Did he feel freedom?
I shake myself briefly out of the memory before I could vomit again to see the grey-bearded man clutch at his heart, eyeing the metal pressed against his head.
“Listen, Dr. Frankenzti, I—I just, please! We can…We can—”
“We can, what, you fucking, big dipshit? We play the paint by number series?”
“What? What even is that?”
“Fuck you! Don’t deflect. You locked me out of your computer. You locked those files, you pig. I want them—I want them now.”
“I—I can’t. I can’t give you them.”
“Who says? I want a name, Z.” There is no reply. “Answer me,” The gun shakes in my hands like a novice; I was slipping but I caught myself carefully. “Before… Before I blow your brains out. I’ll pick up a canvas and make my own replica of Pollock with your fucking brains.”
“Volkov,” he gasps. “Ryker Volkov.”
“He’s a dead man, Z. I don’t need this shit-sack. I want people who are living, people who will give me the control, the POWER, and you’re the port to that.
“Zeransky, let’s face it, you’re a dead man walking. Better start chucking out some names before I fucking make a macramé with your intestines and shove them back up through your fucking anus. I will make sure you feel every sensation, and then I’ll let you die from the blood-loss. Give me names.”
Z’s lips tremble, his mouth gawks a bit. Knees buckling, he whispers, “The Gamma, Charles. The Gamma… The Gamma, remember?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“The Gamma is the group I’m in related to Air Proxy. I don’t know anyone—honest. I only knew Venus—and we had to off her to keep the group intact, otherwise, the Delano 618 would have raided us.
“The Gamma is a global power—much like the Delano 618. We stab people in the back, you know that. There is no family to turn back to. There is no life to be had. We WANT the global power, the Gamma, to decimate the Delano 618. When I got into this company, Charles, I was at a weak point in my life. I suffered a bad accident that severed most of the nerves in my hands. I was top of the top at tech companies, at tapping into networks, scoping out zervers routing through the Dark Web that contributed to the supply of illegal trade and drugs. I could no longer be behind the computer or overzee activities. They booted me, and Air Proxy picked me up, lifted me from rank to rank until I became… powerful.”
“Powerful?” I huffed. “The only power you have is your position.”
“That’s the point, Charlie. It’s why we offed Venus—she the true boss of the operation. In those files on my computer, you would have found that we had Cracker watch you from the ztart to equip you in the Gamma way before Richards died. You would have also discovered we were hacked in Air Proxy the night of Richards’s death. He was never zupposed to be killed. Venus… After we ingrained the chip in you and boarded you on the ship for your assignment, I realized how much control she wielded. I tapped into her accounts—and I found that she had pictures of targets dispatched to different locations of potential warehousez. Richards’s file was collected before his death.”
What? I slowly let my gaze fall to the floor.
Z stabbed me in the back and left me to die figuratively in the hands of a botched surgery. Venus stabbed me in the back and was planning to use me as her own personal bodyguard. Air Proxy betrayed me by hiring Cracker as a plant, most likely delving into my prior psychiatric history (which should have been confidential to my employers) to analyze if I was a prime candidate for the assassination team for the Gamma. I also figured Cracker was there to see when or if I had the potential to take down the company, especially if Venus had a wandering eye for global power grabs.
I shook my head slightly—couldn’t let it get to me now. “Where the fuck is the rat, Z? I want an end to the story, not the fucking prologue.”
“Listen to me, Charles, Dr. Frankie! Whoever is speaking to me, I need you to lizten before you kill me.”
I calmly sat back down. “Go ahead.”
“…Ryker, let me get to him—R—R-Ryker was an operative for the Delano 618 who looked into Richards’s death. He was on bad standing with the organization because of a triangular ring he was looking into based on the Pandora files I was after. The Pandora files contain not only information on Venus, but also information on separate organizations based in Europe.”
I caught his drift. “Like Air Proxy and the Delano 618…”
He grabbed at his chest momentarily before massaging it. “You’ll find what you need in there, F-Frankie if you know where to look.”
I layered an icy stare and smiled as if I wanted blood. “You’ll need to tell me first.”
“I… I do not know. Only Venus knew and the dead can no longer be held accountable. I was never second in command,” he laughed bitterly, stroking his head. “I was her little shit, I was her pawn. I didn’t realize this. She used me. She used you. I found this out after we exterminated Ryker by looking into her own closetz. She was not a good person, Charles. But, neither am I.”
“Ugh, fuck this. I don’t want your self-loathing. I want all the files you kept me out of.” I now placed my finger on the trigger. “I want to know about the cloning operation you were going to do, but never did. What happened to that, Z? Did you want me to prove my skills first before you could be sure I was useful and expendable to the organization? I want to know everything you outlined of the Gamma. I want the Pandora file too especially since you know much more than you’re letting on. I want to know it all.”
I look into his dead eyes as he speaks. I see those dead eyes at night. I see that fucking maniac with blood glinting on his teeth, his eyes feral, wildly gazing at the camera; he had turned into a fucking monster.
Sometimes, he is bouncing against me with the chainsaw, thrusting it into my face before the world goes black. Others, he wields an ax stabbing me from my torso to my chest—barren, and he climbs on top of me (in all of these nightmares), looks into my eyes, and slits my throat with his teeth.
He stands up, looks me over.
“Beautiful,” he says tilting my face to peer closer. “Don’t you think?”
In other dreams, he is not there. He is merely a shadow. I remember the disturbance in Venus’s eyes that once pleaded for life. This was nothing like any war that my parents had seen—you kill, kill, kill people, they just go down. You don’t look for much. But, Venus?
She was the worst kill I had ever thought to have imagined being possible.
I wake up screaming in terror. I wake up in a sweat. The bitch haunts my mind.
But he does too. He’s in my imagination—his eyes like predator creatures crawling off his face. What the fuck did Venus’s men do with him? He’s an abomination.
Dr. Frankie Viper… What the fuck? Who does he think he is? Hannibal Lecter merged in Creature Feature? I shook my head. This man was a fucking freak. A fucking burdened beast. What have we done? Venus overtook the operation—she was my supervisor; we were supposed to wipe him not make him a mutant. There was a language barrier between those workers and Air Proxy, but it seems clear that Venus had ulterior motives in molding Charles to have a line directly to him.
But, she wanted a bounty over my head from the beginning it seemed. The breach in our security was a good start in making this happen—this would as well be recovered in the Pandora file since I knew it most likely held Venus’s dealings and secrets that she couldn’t keep completely off the paper trail.
With Ryker and his list of discards, now with the connection to some sort of ring to the Delano-618, we needed to step back and think who was playing who. Which sides were being screwed over? Which side was truly evil?
At least, Venus was trump card for us. Killing her would make the Delano 618 look elsewhere for the time being. We play stupid. We don’t know who did it. Venus dead? Who would do such a thing?
“Zeransky,” Charles licks his lips as he turns. I shudder.
I realize he was wearing the black uniform vest with ECP on the back–the same one the day we killed Venus. What the fuck is he doing? “I’m waiting,” he says.
“The cloning operation…” I looked down at the floor. He was right, I was truly a dead man. It was Venus’s idea to clone him because of his abilities; and I was on board with the project, because of the concept of such adios money. If I could get out of here with enough money, I can retire and move back to France. I can live without fear, without the impending knowledge of my superiors stabbing me in the back—and corruptive organizations that seem to have eyes on all of us.
In some ways, I can resonate with Charles—who I once knew him as. He was in the same spot as me. We were being chased through the left-overs of our crimes. We were targeted in our weak points, and it was more than likely that we will both die in the end.
I shook my head as I cautiously regarded him. “Do you really think after you maimed Venus alive that we would fucking clone you? You are a psychopath, you are a monster. It’d be napalm in the gene pool to clone you!”
His eye twitched. Oh. That seemed to strike a few nerves. Good then. “Shut up, Z! Shut up! Where is that fucking Pandora file?”
“She told you… I was watching. Don’t you remember?”
“She said it was in Captain Yvonne’s safe at the main headquarters.”
Smart bitch. I held back a smile. “That’z where you will find it then.”
“I don’t know what it is!” He roared, the glint in his eyes sparkling. “What the fuck is it, Z? Stop keeping this from me!” He pulled out the gun and in a matter of seconds, blew three holes in the chandelier; sparks and wires dripped out.
He now seemed demented, no longer tranquil—his canines popped out a bit from his mouth. I stepped back a bit as he gazed at me with a chilling smile. The devil—he was coming forward finally.
Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde.
Oh my lord, what had we done?
The monster began to pace around the room, fiddling with the gun in his hands. “This Captain Yvonne. Who the fuck is he?”
“What is this? What is it, Z? You have to know something. You can’t play this game with me anymore. They wouldn’t have put you so far up if they didn’t tell you anything. I need to know what you know. I need that power.”
“Why,” I choke out, my throat becoming tight. “Why do you want power? What is it with you and power?”
A sound suddenly thrust from the hallway by the door. Charles turned automatically, his face barren from anger, but his eyes dragged with toxins. “If it’s anyone you know,” he turned to face me, “I’m gutting them… like fish!” He manically laughed. And the way he said it sounded like we were going to have a nice chat over some fish and chips.
He opened the door and I stayed behind a bit. I heard bloodthirsty curls of laughter as I struggled to follow my gaze. Charles was still by the door, helmet on, gun attached to his waist grip. A baton lied lazily at the entrance.
My sight cuffed to the shadows of the door as I inched further—I couldn’t see who it was he was talking to.
“Well, we’re pretty fast. I was on route when I got the noise complaint.” There was a smile in his voice. I then heard the mutters of the other party respond.
“Oh, no wonder it must have been you!” Charles opened the door wider, flashing his teeth. “Would you like to know what you interrupted?”
And before the stranger could register what happened, Charles hit him in the back of the head with the baton.
“Holy shit, holy shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit,” I murmured, rubbing my hands behind my head. “Charles, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Charles’s icy gaze pierced me again and I turned away briefly before looking back. He picked up the baton, rolled the man over, and plummeted it into his skull. He bashed his head in until there was a noticeable dip, blood pooling out from the cracks. There were ice leaves of white and red on the floor, and he did not seem to let up.
I looked away and then back. I wished I hadn’t. Charles dug out the baton which made a slick wet noise, and he glided it into the stranger’s eye, shoving less than a quarter of it in before he yanked it out. In his pocket he pulled out a scalpel, made an incision by the side of the stranger’s ear to only pull out a metallic chip.
He crushed it with his boot on the floor. “There,” he said. “Now when they find him, they won’t know what went on. No trail,” he made that weird gesture with his hand to his eyes before nearly shoving them in mine. I pulled them back down to protect myself. He grinned and gently whispered, “It’s time for it to end, Z,” like I was a dog ready to be put down.
But, he went on as if he didn’t murder an innocent in cold blood. “You used me, Z when we both trusted you. I trusted you at one point. You turned us both against each other—you were looking for a payday, threatening to frame me for Richards’s murder. How could I not want power against the ones who have it over me? And you know what? I find this funny if what you’re saying is true, that you don’t really know anything—then you’re just as much of a figurehead as Richards.”
“Ah, ah, that is funny, that—that is funny. Richards,” I chuckled a bit to deflect, though my tremors still rocked throughout my body. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried in vain to forget what I saw. “Can you—you imagine that his d-death is what led uz all here? Here—h-here with so many deaths on this path, o-on our heads? W-w-we’ve killed so many people, C-C-Charles.”
“It was fate then,” Charles mocked me. “Bullshit!” A shot went above my head—I felt the hot trail of it shimmer into my nose like blood.
“C-Charles, please, I urge you to not… to not,” my lips shook and I broke into sobs again.
“Oh, what a fucking baby you are! Boo-hoo, pissy shit. I’m getting answers, Z for all of this. Once you die, there are no more roadblocks. I’ll have power, I’ll have the answers. I’ll have the safety net, whereas you will not.” He aimed the gun at my head.
I lunged forward off the couch, my heart beating, my pulse tripling soon feeling bruised. The cold surface of the floor hit the back of my head as Charles looked on, face twisted with confusion. I felt my senses go numb and drool started to collect at the side of my mouth. I breathed in then out, finding it more troublesome to do.
Charles climbed on top of me, stared into my eyes as he shook my head. I couldn’t say anything. He grabbed me by the chest and thrashed me against the metal floors.
“You’re faking! You’re faking! Get up! Get UP! Now, now or I’ll shoot you!”
Tears leaked from my eyes and I smiled before I no longer could see.
Dr. Frankensti’s POV
I stared at his body.
I shook him from the back of his dark, plastered coat. “Wake the fuck up!” I hissed in his ears. He didn’t stir—he looked asleep, peaceful even. My fist clenched at his neck, trying to find a pulse, but even as I tried, my hands shook when I realized there was none.
I lied Z on his back fully and stepped my boot into his spine.
I found myself jumping on him like a trampoline. I then turned him over and did the same to his ribs.
I could see the veins slightly pulsate, turning purple and red; those throbbing lines ushered into bruises. Muscle tendon snaps, bone crunched, and decimated. I went into his kitchen, cut an apple I found in the fruit bowl, and launched it into the middle of his back with my foot, the arch like a beetle or cockroach. I wavered my boot back into the air, ready to make more applesauce on him, but something pulled me back from my instincts—I couldn’t leave more of a trail, a bloodbath at least. I needed a head-start on Air Proxy and the Delano 618 or they might start tail-gating me if they haven’t already.
I touched Z one last time to pull off his dark coat. I picked his pockets for his phone. Within minutes I was able to get in there with a mobile keylogger, and I began to go through his messages. I needed information on the locked files, the Discards list that we never put Richards on as once was the plan, and most of all, I needed to find the Pandora files from the captain. What I found initially was less intriguing, only inviting me more into the mind of Franz Zeransky.
Unknown: What is the progress, White Bear?
WB: Very little.
Unknown: We sent in our clean-up crew. All that remained of her body looked like it crawled out of a blender.
WB: So? What’s the matter with that?
Unknown: Your status in the organization is at stake. You can’t leave messes like this for us to clean. We will have to terminate you if you cannot control your pet.
I stopped, something knifing inside me. I put the phone in my back pocket, nails clutching the glass. I looked back at Z who was still motionless on the floor.
When I glanced up at the circular window, it was nearing dark. I had to leave.
I backed away quickly, his body like a giant dung beetle on the floor. I could smell his blood. I could smell his heart. I thought I’d be happy now that he was dead—I thought I’d feel something, perhaps rage. I thought I would scoop up his heart with my canines, and pierce through it in its final beats. I would then slaughter him entirely from the chest down, scoping out his intestines as a noose around his neck. Like hangman.
But, I could only feel nothing.
A/N: First thing, who thinks Z is dead for real this time?
Second, let’s play a game. I made a literary reference around where Dr. Frankie starts breaking Z’s back and ribs. Can anyone guess where I did that and what reference I made if they do indeed recognize it?