Chapter 13: Madhouse 3-4

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" A singsong voice toned, strangely inhuman and ferocious. Considering who - no, what was looking for me, I think "inhuman and ferocious" is an appropriate assessment.

I was hiding in one of the closets in this man's underground dungeon. It was a relief that I didn't have to breathe, otherwise I'd be hyperventilating like hell right now. I heard the footsteps of the monster coming after me right now, eerily close but without direction. Completely out of options, I couldn't help but wonder just what the hell I'd gotten myself into this time. At first, he seemed like a completely normal human. He was even genial, like a friendly uncle or a drinking buddy. Now? I didn't know what he was.

I glanced through the crack I'd created in the door, watching as one of his elongated limbs wriggled about sinuously and unnaturally as if it had a mind of its own. It would make sense if it did; after all it was, I'd gathered, someone else's arm. The body of the thing that was once the doctor turned in my direction, and I quickly moved to hide myself. Fuck, I could hear him walking closer. I went completely still, like a statue as I heard his footsteps get closer and closer.

"Come on, chap!" His inhuman voice intoned. "I don't want to hurt you! I only want your strong, beautiful arms. Just one!"

I squeezed my eyes shut. Manipulating his blood was out of the question, because Carson was right behind one of the locked metal doors, watching the scene unfold. Just because crazy supernatural serial killers existed didn't mean he had to learn about the existence of vampires. So I was now limited to my same old human options. I didn't get to buy the weapons I wanted at the pawn shop, so I had even fewer offensive options. I could try fighting him hand to hand, but I didn't like my chances against someone who had like ten arms.

"There you are!" The inhuman voice purred.

When I opened my eyes, I was face to face with the killer, Stanley Gimble himself. One of his long, distorted arms grabbed me, lifting me with unnatural ease. His other limbs grabbed my arms and legs as if examining them. The prosthetist grinned ear to ear, his crazed eyes studying my expression. The fact that his face was still humanoid somehow made this even more terrifying, as if this were something out of a horror movie.

"Such beautiful limbs…" He said. "Unfortunately...you've seen too much."

He flung me across the room like a ragdoll, making me hit the metal door hard enough to create a dent. I grunted and fell to the ground, blacking out almost immediately.

"Welcome to Kilpatrick 24-Hour Bail Bonds. My name is Arthur Kilpatrick. How may I help you?" The Bail Bondsman asked, his tone indicating he does this at least a thousand times before the night is over.

"Hey, Trip across the street sent me." I told him. "Said that Carson is missing?"

Arthur's fake smile faltered. "Yeah, I dunno where the hell he went. He was a damn good bounty hunter, great at what he does when he wants to do it. Can't find him now, though. He's pissin' me off, to be honest. I need him to go find someone."

"I can go look for him for you, if you know where I might find him." I said.

"Yeah? That'd be pretty nice. I'll even pay ya for your time." He told me.

"I could use more money." I said, nodding. "Where should I look for him?"

"I suppose the first place you should look is his apartment in Santa Monica Suites - apartment one, I think it is." He said. "Maybe you'll find somethin' there to let you know where he got himself to. Here's a key card, that'll let ya in."

He handed me the key card. Funny, Carson apparently lived in the apartment across from Mercurio. Small world.

"Alright, I'll go find him." I said. "How much are we talking in terms of payment?"

"Prolly like...I dunno, four hundred? Three hundred? Name your price." Arthur said.

I could practically see the dollar bills swimming across my field of vision.

"Four hundred is good." I said. "I'll be right back."

Carson's room didn't look like what I'd imagine a bounty hunter's room would look like. It was so...normal. Maybe this was the movies getting to me again - and if there's anything I'd learned these past two nights so far, it's that the movies were mostly incorrect about anything. I didn't hear any heartbeats other than Mercurio's across the way, which meant that Carson wasn't in there. I sighed to myself as I looked around. Nothing can ever be simple anymore.

Might as well earn that discount and that four hundred. I thought to myself, checking everything I could possibly find in the room that would help me discern Carson's location. There was nothing on the coffee table except a cup of coffee that had gone cold, probably meaning he hadn't been in his apartment for a while. I walked to the table and found nothing but newspapers, nudie magazines, and a box of cigars. Just when I was ready to give up, I found a key on the top of the TV. On the key ring, I saw the logo of the tattoo parlor down the street.

I walked over to his recording machine and turned it on. Hopefully it would give me insight on where Carson went.

"Check, check. Is this thing recording?" The voice said, presumably Carson's. "God, I hate these things. Anyway, the uh, McGee case is getting weirder and weirder. I found where he's been hiding and I found some really creepy stuff down there. There was no sign of McGee, but I'm gonna follow up on another lead I got too. I updated the files on the computer. This is Carson, signing off."

The recording ended.

So, it seemed that Carson disappeared while working on another job. Something about a missing guy named McGee. What did he mean "creepy stuff"? Could he have encountered something supernatural? Santa Monica seemed absolutely saturated with it, after all. It could also have to do with the serial killer going around.

I sat down on his couch and opened his laptop. It looked like accessing his files required a password, but I was able to bypass that with the hacking software I'd downloaded into a thumb drive after I inserted it into his computer. After about five minutes, I had access to his files. I selected the one that said "location", and it opened a document that read:

McGee is hiding in the tattoo parlor in Santa Monica.

That pretty much confirmed what I was thinking. Carson had to be at the tattoo parlor, but why hadn't he returned? The date on the note had a timestamp on it. It was written earlier on this night, but it was hours ago. Would it really take that long to subdue a criminal? I had to be thorough anyway, so I exited out of his computer, closed it, and walked out of his apartment building. The tattoo parlor was just up the way, so it wasn't very long of a walk.

The inside of the tattoo parlor was dirty enough that I wouldn't be comfortable getting a tattoo there. The ceiling was stained, the paint on the wall was chipping, and the tiled floor was just barely clean enough to be presentable. Because it was closed, nobody was there. Before I walked in, I extended my supernatural senses to see if there were any alarms. Astoundingly enough, there weren't.

I heard the faint sound of a phone ringing downstairs. It was odd...but it definitely wasn't something I couldn't handle. After all, it wasn't a ghost - or probably wasn't. I followed the noise to the stairs. After walking down, I took the ringing phone off of the receiver and put it to my ear. There was no voice on the other side, which was really starting to make my horror movie senses tingle.

"Hello…?" I asked.

"Hello!" The genial voice on the other end said. "Might I speak with Mr. McGee?"

"Um." I said. "He doesn't seem to be here at the moment. Can I help you?"

"Well, I'm not sure." The man said on the other side. "I had an appointment with him a few days ago, but he never seemed to show up. Do you know when he'll return?"

This was rising a few red flags. Why was he calling a closed tattoo parlor?

"I don't, actually." I told him. "What sort of appointment was this?"

"Well, Mr. McGee was going to be doing some modeling for me!" He chimed up. "Medical reference for the work I do here in the studio. It's a shame, really… the proposition would've been quite lucrative for him."

Something about this wasn't right. Carson's tape leads me here, and as soon as I walked in, I get a phone call from this guy? I had a feeling that if I was going to find the bounty hunter, I'd need to get to this guy.

"Yeah? Maybe I can model for you in his place, then." I offered.

"Why, yes, that sounds delightful!" He said. "Perhaps you can come down to my studio and we can sort out the details."

"Sounds good." I said. "Where are you located?"

"I'm at the end of Main Street, a small basement studio. The sign says Gimble's Prosthetics. Just ring the buzzer and I'll let you in."

I'd seen the place before. Gimble's Prosthetics. I knew exactly where he was.

"Sounds good. I'll be right there."

"Yes, may I help you?" The voice from the phone asked.

"Hello? Yeah, I spoke with you on the phone a little while ago." I said, speaking into the buzzer.

"Oh, right, right! I'll buzz you in."

With a loud buzz I heard the door open. When I walked inside, I saw a very clean office with a man standing behind a desk. He looked like any old nobody, with combed over hair and slightly pale skin, presumably from the lack of sunlight. He wore a dress shirt with rolled up sleeves and a blue tie. I noticed he was missing an arm and that it was replaced with a prosthetic limb. The man looked completely normal. I was expecting someone creepier looking, but this guy looked like any guy I'd find on the street.

"Hello! Welcome to Gimble's Prosthetics and Medical Supplies!" He greeted me. "You're here for the modeling job?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He eyed my arms and legs for a second in a strange way, like he was looking at a juicy steak. "Good, good. You seem to have rather...well developed limbs, if you don't mind me saying so."

I didn't really know how to respond to that question, so I said, "Thanks. Um...so who are you?"

"Oh, yes, forgive me! My name is Gimble. Stanley Gimble." He introduced himself. "But, oh… dear, let us dispense with the formalities - you can call me Stan."

"Okay, tell me a little about yourself, Stan."

"Me? Oh, I'm just trying to make things a little easier for those who find themselves, erm, disadvantaged. Giving a helping hand, you might say - a leg up."

He chuckled as if what he said just now was at all remotely funny.

"Bloody clever, that one." He murmured.

"Right…" I said. "Can we get started?"

"A-ha! An eager participant!" Stan chimed, grinning widely. "Very good. Just give me a few moments to get my… equipment… ready, and then come on in, we'll get started!"

"You do that." I said.

Stan left me in the office alone. Maybe nothing nefarious was going on here. Maybe he was just a normal guy - albeit, a creepy guy. This was probably a dead end. Carson wasn't there. Well, I might as well go ahead and model my limbs if Stan was going to pay me. How long could that possibly take? I could definitely use the money too. Everything was finally working out for me.

Just to be sure, I extended my senses beyond myself. At first, I heard nothing, but then I heard a heartbeat, a very quick heartbeat, as if its owner was panicked. The second thing I noticed was the smell of blood. How could that be? I assumed Stan had to keep things sterile to make prosthetics. Either way, this crushed any hope I had of Gimble being a normal guy. Sighing to myself, I decided to investigate, walking through the door that Stan went through.

The inside immediately creeped me out. I saw this smaller room, complete with a cot and a rug, completely closed off by a chain link fence. The cot was stained with blood. Any alarms going off in my head earlier were returning with a vengeance. Against my better judgement, I advanced downstairs and was displeased to see that things only got worse. There were entire rooms covered in blood, with dismembered limbs inside.

"Yep, of course this guy is a psycho." I muttered to myself as I advanced down the stairs. "Of course this ends up being a fucking horror show."

As I went deeper and deeper into the studio, things got more and more fucked up. Eventually, I found a room that was just full of the amputated bodies of men and women. The smell of death filled my nostrils as I looked at their lifeless bodies. Some of them were very clearly penetrated and stabbed multiple times. What the hell happened to them? Did Stanley do this? I hadn't even seen this type of savagery from vampires.

I went down the last staircase to find an empty room with a chair bolted to the ground. As I advanced into the room, I heard a loud bang against one of the locked metal doors. I flinched as I saw a man press his face against the bars, his hands frantically gripping them. I could see that he was shaking like a leaf and missing a finger. His heartbeat was going at five miles an hour, and I could just smell the fear.

"Hey!" He said. It was Carson, I recognized the voice. "Hey, you have to get me out of here, man!"

"Carson?" I asked. "Hey, Trip and Arthur sent me to come look for you. What the fuck is going on?"

"The guy is a freakin' nut job! No, he isn't even human!"

I frowned. Not even human? Well, he wasn't a vampire, because I could hear his heartbeat upon meeting him. What was he then? A werewolf? No, that couldn't be it. It wasn't like I knew the first thing about werewolves, but I had a feeling that their MO wasn't dismembering people and then fucking them.

"Who, Gimble?" I asked.

"'Who, Gimble?"" He mimicked me incredulously. "Yeah, Gimble! That guy's been takin' pieces off o' me and McGee for the last three hours! He's a monster, man! A fucking monster!"

"Okay, okay. Calm down." I said. "Where's the key to this door?"

"Right here…"

A loud, growling and inhuman voice chimed behind me, and I saw Stanley Gimble himself walk through the door. This time he looked...different. Very different. His shirt was off, revealing a mass of arms and hands sprouting out of his back in the dozens. Each appendage that came out of him was a different color, length, and shape as if they were taken from someone else. Some were thin, some were muscular. Some were long, some were short. They all wriggled about unnaturally as if they had minds of their own. Stanley wore the grin of a madman as he walked through that door, his prosthetic limb discarded and his one other arm holding a cleaver.

"I told you to give me a few moments!" He barked, his limbs wriggling about and moving in response to his words. "Now I have to punish you for not following instructions!"

Between seeing the amputated bodies, the freak with a bunch of limbs, and Carson missing a finger, that was about all I could take for this little job. My flight or fight reaction kicked in and the Beast took over for a brief moment. I sprinted across the room and threw a right hook right at Stanley's jaw. Instead of shattering it and breaking his neck like I was expecting, he just...took it. Then he smirked at me and punched me with one of his many limbs, sending me flying across the room. My Beast, after finding out that "fight" wasn't working, picked "flight" and I took off out of the room.

I woke up on a bloodied cot, my wrists bound with leather straps. Stanley sat on a chair by the cot and reached out with one of his elongated limbs to caress my face. It felt cold and slimy, and I absolutely hated it. His psychotic gaze captured mine, and that set me off again. I began to thrash in the cot, but it was bolted down so I couldn't even move it without expending effort.

"Truly, you're something remarkable." Stanley mused. "I checked your pulse. You have none. You're dangerously below body temperature, and you have unusually pronounced canines. Truly, I've never encountered something like you."

"Don't fucking touch me, you freak." I spat. "What are you?"

Stanley chuckled maliciously. "It's a pity that I don't know that myself. Do you know how I got my start?"

I didn't say anything. Stanley spoke anyway.

"I was a wee boy, cutting off the limbs of birds in my mother's backyard." He said, continuing in that polite, genial tone as if he were talking about a fond memory. "It was quite the fascinating experience. After a while, I got older and found that birds weren't enough, so I tried on my neighbor's daughter. That gave me quite the kick, if I do say so myself. It was also the time I lost my virginity. Oh, my poor mother was distraught, truly. She didn't want to accept it, so she hid all the evidence. We moved, it was swept under the rug, but I kept doing it. I liked doing it. It arouses me, if you don't mind me saying.

"Then, as I was in college, I decided to take it to the next level. Yes, it gave me pleasure, but I wanted to see how they felt! Surely it felt as good for them as it did for me. So I cut my own arm off. It was quite painful indeed, but enlightening, arousing. I never came so much as I did looking at myself with my stump of an arm. It was very alluring. And that's when it happened, when I became something beyond human."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I...ascended." Stanley said, that inhuman tone to his voice returning. "I became more. Now it wasn't just about getting off, but becoming something beyond human. I took their arms, legs, fingers...and I found that I could give myself. Truly, could you say you've seen a being more perfect than me?"

"You're sick." I spat. "Why the fuck are you doing this?"

"Didn't I explain that?" Stanley asked. "I like doing this. You won't believe how hard this makes me. I get off on it, seeing their helpless bodies wriggle and cry in futility, because they lost their limbs. Oh, it's such a good show! Mr. McGee died too early, unfortunately. That's why I'm going slower with Mr. Carson. And then you…"

He rose his cleaver. Placing a hand on my chest, he held me down. I struggled, but it was worthless. Somehow, this thing was every bit as strong as me. Before he could chop down on me, the cries of Carson downstairs echoed loud enough to be heard upstairs. Stanley seemed to be attempting to ignore him, but the cries became louder and louder. Gimble sighed loudly and began to walk to the opening.

"I ought to check on Mr. Carson." He grumbled. "Teach him that it is rude to interrupt a man's art."

While he had his back turned, I dug my nails into my palms hard enough to create welts. Blood spilled forth from the new wounds, and I focused on it, shaping it into something that could unbind me. They became razor sharp wires, rapidly cutting through the leather that bound me. My arms were free right after Stanley walked through the chain-linked gate, and I silently unbound my legs as well. Quickly, I got out of the bed, pissed that something this fucked up was happening. The lights flickered on and off as my power began to engulf me.

"Hey, Stanley." I called out.

The serial killer turned around, and before he could even say anything, I thrust my hand forward. The room went dark, and the only light was from the bolt of electrical energy that surged forth from my palm, hitting Stanley square in the chest. His muscles seized up and he fell to his knees, shaking violently. I yelled in utter fury, thrusting my other hand forward and hitting him with even more lightning. Stanley's skin fried and I could smell his blood evaporating. The lightning died down, and Stanley's lifeless body lay limp on the floor.

I looked at my hands. Holy fuck, how did I do that?

I didn't have time to question it. I grabbed Gimble's keys off his corpse and ran downstairs, unlocking the door to Carson's cell. He rushed out, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Oh my god. Thanks, man! You're a lifesaver." He said. "I wasn't sure I was gonna make it. I'm tellin' you… I've been on some weird cases, but this is a whole fucking other level."

"You got that right." I mumbled.

"You said Arthur sent you, right?"

"Yeah. And Trip from the Pawn Shop."

"Oh, man, that's solid! I owe them big for that. I hope I can get them back for this."

"He's got some work for you. You should head back to the office."

"What? Oh, no, man. No, no, no. Not for me anymore. Look at my hand!" He held up his right hand. He was missing two fingers. "Gimble took my trigger finger for a trophy. I'm all through with this business. I hate to leave Arthur in a lurch, but that's the way it is."

I sighed. Hopefully Arthur would still be giving me that four hundred.

"I understand." I grumbled. "Well, I'll give him the bad news. See ya."

"Hey, man. Carson stopped by." Trip said, taking out the weapons I'd selected hours ago and placing them on the table, followed by ammunition for each. "Said that you saved him, but some crazy shit happened."

"Crazy shit is right." I said, placing two hundred dollar bills on the counter. Trip took them and opened up the register.

"What kinda crazy shit? He won't tell me." He asked as I loaded everything into my backpack.

I thought back to the lightning I shot out of my hands. How did I do that? Could I do it again? It looked like my powers extended beyond just manipulating blood. It made me wonder what else I could do. I experimented with my powers a little bit to refine my control over them, but I didn't even know where to begin. There were so many things about this world I didn't know...vampires, ghosts, werewolves and, apparently, serial killers with supernatural powers.

"Believe me." I told Trip, crumbling the receipt he gave me and shoving it in my pocket. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."