Meet Your Favorite Serial Killer

by Spencer,Alan

  Dr. Khevorkian was crouched in the shadows. He was sorting through a large leather medical bag. He said to David and Kayla in a friendly clinical soothsayer's voice, "All of these uncouth monsters are barbaric. They left their intelligence back in hell. You should let me kill you. I'll play your favorite music while I put you down. You won't feel a thing when you die. And when you're dead, who cares what I'll do with your corpse, am I right? Come on, am I right? When you're right, you're right. No pain, no pain. That's my motto. So what do you say?"

  "None of you will touch him," a husky voice trying to be feminine spoke. He imagined Kathleen Turner talking with a sandpaper throat. "They're mine."

  Everybody in the area stopped what they were doing to ogle the new enemy.

  David couldn't stop shaking his head. "No fucking way."

  Luke Bloom was dressed in Lizzy Borden's lingerie. He had smeared blood on his lips to mimic lipstick. He clutched a sizeable axe. Lizzy's axe.

  "His head is mine, and so is the rest of him. Stay away, or you lose your head too."

  There was a wild commotion among the killers. That gave the three of them a moment to dodge them. Demo removed two sticks of dynamite from his back pocket--or did he produce them out of thin air? David wasn't sure, and didn't have time to fact check his observations. The dynamite lit itself. The fuses were burning insanely fast.

  "Take Kayla down that straightaway ahead of us. The walls will do the work. You'll see. Just keep going straight. I got your back. I only ask you protect Kayla with your life. You do that, and I'll do my best to keep you alive too."

  "You got yourself a deal."

  He couldn't hear what Demo said next. The man launched the sticks of dynamite towards the ever-growing crowd of killers.

  Before the booms sounded, David grabbed Kayla's arm and followed Demo's instructions.

  Luke knew exactly what they were thinking. The killers with their gawking, judging eyes. They thought he was a joke. He wasn't a joke. No, no, no. He was Lizzy Borden. Axe murderer. Head chopper. Life ender. Slaughterer.

  Albert Fish wasn't laughing anymore when he sliced both his hands off at the wrists. Albert yawped in terror with bulging eyes at his spurting nubs. Luke finished him off by slamming the side of the axe into his nose and mouth. He shattered Albert's nasal cavity into porcelain bits. He hit the bastard again. Albert's face was literally sent through the back of his head.

  The group of serial killers were about to pounce on him together when Demo threw two sticks of dynamite into the crowd.

  Luke dove for cover.

  BOOM!

  BOOM!

  Chunks of the cavern walls flew everywhere. Plumes of dust shot up from the rocked ground. Cries of pain echoed all around him. He couldn't see anything. His ear drums were ringing hard. His back was cut up by the small chunks of rocks-turned-shrapnel.

  He was about to get up when a rock struck him on the head. He was dazed and blinking blood from his eyes. There was a small chunk of his scalp turned inside out. He could feel his skull between the stinging tufts of torn up hair.

  Satan, guide me.

  Show me your hand.

  I need your guidance.

  I will kill in your name.

  He could sense feet hitting the ground through vibrations. Voices were growing fainter. He was alone where he lay, bleeding out of his head.

  This isn't who I am.

  I'm not Lizzy Borden.

  I can do better.

  Satan, wait!

  I can do better!

  Luke ripped the lingerie from his body with clawed fingers. This wasn't him. He could do better. He was indeed a joke. An idiot in make-up. He was worse than a clown, and no better than a hack killer.

  Yes, he could do much better.

  Better was nearby.

  He could see the outline of the corpse on the ground. A large boulder has smashed in his head. Pieces of his face could be seen on either side of the boulder.

  This dead corpse was Ripper Jones. He was an engineer, body builder, and the architect of mutilation by mode of bare hands.

  Bare hands wasn't completely accurate.

  He removed the steel gloves from Ripper's hands and studied them. They were just like a pair of gloves, but made of mechanical steel. There was a battery on top of each hand that gave the gloves their power. This battery only lasted through one kill when Ripper Jones was alive, but now, here, during the event, with hell's power, those batteries stayed charged infinitely. Ripper used these hand-built gloves to squeeze heads from necks, rip arms and legs off of bodies, and to punch through his victims.

  Luke stripped the corpse naked and put on the man's greens keeper outfit. Ripper Jones was a genius, but he was also antisocial and maladjusted. Instead of becoming a mechanical engineer by trade, he used his skills to maintain a golf course. After work, he would slaughter people with his genius invention.

  The final act of Luke's transformation was putting on those steel gloves.

  He clenched the fists of steel, turned on the battery power, and prepared to kill everything in sight. This time, he would stick to his change.

  He would call himself Bloom the Ripper.

  He charged after everybody who left him behind. He crawled over the broken hills of cavern walls. He knew where everybody was going.

  He also knew one other thing.

  This would be the final battle.

  Motor always showed up at the climax of things.

  "Where the hell are we going?"

  "I don't know. Keep running. Something will open up. This has to lead us to somewhere."

  David wasn't so sure about what Kayla had told him. The rock walls were a straightaway. The ground underneath his feet was dirt. The walls changed to concrete. The lights above them glowed red. The red reminded him of the color of the fog that sprayed out of the pentagram when the killers were unleashed tonight.

  Hell was using its power to manipulate things.

  If I survive this, David thought. I'm going to enjoy the biggest beer in the history of the world.

  They had been running for ten minutes straight. He wasn't sure how much stamina he had left to burn. The body could only endure so much before it quit on you, and he had reached that point time and time again.

  Knowing The Event only had so much time left before it was over, what if he did survive this? Could he talk to anyone about this? Who would he tell? Would they believe him? Could anybody stop this from happening again?

  The police, or someone, had to believe him, he thought. There would be bodies and leftover carnage. The Bloom mansion was a giant evidence bag of murder. He could potentially do some damage to those who ran this sick show.

  Then again, if anybody running the show was alive, he would have to also take them on as well before truly escaping.

  He couldn't focus on that now.

  The game was far from over.

  The long hallway opened up ahead of them. The red lights burned their eyes. Fog enveloped them. The fog grabbed onto them and pulled them forward. David and Kayla were forced deeper into the unknown area. The space was expansive and had a wide range of acoustics.

  Once the fog cleared, they were standing in the middle of a giant ring. He imagined a ring for a demolition derby. There were no other entrances or exits besides the way they had just come, and that area was filling up with the incoming horde of killers.

  One man stood at the opposite side of the ring. He was dressed like a auto mechanic. His hands and uniform were stained in splashes of bright red blood. The area was much like a garage. Machines were on top of raised platforms, and this strange man was servicing them.

  They were cars with insane motors. Riding lawn mowers with expanded room on the bottom for bigger and crazier chopping blades. Wood chippers that were redesigned to be torture chambers. Giant room fans with engines attached. He imagined people being thrown into their blades and liquefied. Others were machines that had no obvious purpose. They were mechanical killing machines juiced up
to motorized fury.

  This "mechanic" was going around to his machines and dumping blood into their fuel tanks.

  Kayla was terrified. "Jesus, what's he going to do with those machines?"

  "Trying to turn us into dead meat," David said. "I pray your uncle knew what he was talking about. If he's betrayed us, we're in serious trouble."

  Kayla's lips quivered, and so did the rest of her body.

  Whatever security she took from having her uncle watching over her seemed to evaporate.

  The mechanic spoke to them.

  "Relax a moment. You've got five minutes before the final fight begins. I'm Carl. You can call me The Mechanic if you like. That's what the media called me. You see, I built these killing machines when I was still alive. I sliced, diced, and liquefied my victims. It's too bad one of my would-be victims shoved me into that wood chipper. I was 86'd in six seconds.

  "It's nice to meet you folks. You've made this year's games most interesting. I guess Satan has decided he needs somebody new to manage his games. He has to keep his killers, sickos, and pedophiles happy in hell, so he lets us out to play once in awhile. It's not just through these games that we get field days out of hell. Sometimes we're ghosts. Other times, we possess the living and give them their sick thoughts and urges to kill. It's all seriously fun.

  "The Event is going to change after tonight. We're going to be under new management. Satan always finds somebody out there better equipped to entertain us. Who knows what will become of it in the future? But for now, this is the final fight. We're going out with a bang. It's been a real pleasure playing with you two. Now you're going to die."

  The Mechanic started the engines to his jacked up machines one-by-one.

  The killers were mere moments from attacking them.

  The final fight would soon commence.

  Nothing marked the beginning of the battle.

  It was upon them instantly.

  David and Kayla were separated when Vlad swung his sledgehammer. The giant block slammed into the dirt with a loud concussion. There was nowhere to run. David would have to fight the man head on.

  He drove his fist into Vlad's jaw, then kicked him between the legs. The giant beast of a man plummeted to the ground clutching his testicles. David dove for the man's sledgehammer, lifted it up with a mighty heft and a battle yawp, and gave it a wild swing. It crashed against Vlad's rib cage. His blow was awarded with the crack and splintering of bones.

  "Stay the fuck away from us!"

  Saddam Hussein tried to jump on his back, screeching unintelligible rage. David sank the sledge into the back of the ex-dictator's head. The bludgeon slid in like butter and bashed through his facial features in a explosion of skin and gore debris.

  He spun wildly in a circle warding off Jeffrey Dahmer and a man covered in long lengths of chains with sharp hooks attached to the ends.

  "Here fishy, fishy, fishy!" The man dressed in a yellow fisherman's raincoat shouted. "Let me sink my hook into your soft sweet mouth. I'll snag you and cook you well done!"

  David was about to slam his weapon home into the fisherman's skull when a woman jumped on his back. She wrapped her intestines around his neck, then she struck her tongue in his ear and whispered, "I offered you sex before death. Now it'll only be DEATH!"

  He dropped the sledgehammer. His vision was dizzy. Across the way, Kayla was fist fighting Bin Laden. She delivered a serious uppercut to his jaw and then stomped in his face with both her steel toed boots. He saw a machine that resembled a street sweeper heading right for her.

  David pressed forward on the guts so hard they snapped. He called out to Kayla, "Watch out! Behind you!"

  She ducked and rolled. The sweeper sucked in Tit Head. The sound of bones breaking, then out the top of the machine, a cinder block size of one compressed human body was spit out.

  He kept dodging, running, fighting, pushing, shoving, battering, pummeling, struggling, and punching against the tide of murderers. He jumped forward and away from the horde of maggots, rats, and snakes that crawled out of Maggot Girl's body and tried to attach themselves to his flesh. Instead, the collection of vermin and insects were sucked up into a riding lawn mower and chewed to pulp.

  "I could snap your neck!" Vlad now had him in a half nelson. "You've caused me so much pain. How can I pay you back? How?

  "Wait, maybe I do know. I can murder you here and stalk you in the denizens of hell. You put up a good fight in this arena, but in hell, you won't stand a chance. You'll die over and over again. And I'll be the one that kills you each time!"

  David did the only thing he could think to do, and that was bite down on Vlad's arm. Scared, fearing death, he clamped own so hard, he pulled back a big wad of meat crisscrossed with broken spurting veins.

  Vlad released him.

  This time David finished the deal.

  "Good to know you can die for at least minute or two. Now go fuck yourself!"

  David kicked him into the strange machine heading their way. A platform was on wheels. On that platform was a single pole. That pole had several mechanical arms attached to it. Those arms were spinning in a wild frenzy. He wasn't sure what the device could do until it latched onto Vlad's arm and legs and ripped them off with little effort. Vlad's limbless torso was thrown across the ring and hit the ground so hard he exploded.

  No time to relish Vlad's death.

  Jack the Ripper's blade missed his jugular by a breath. The killer crashed into cannibal trapper Alferd Packer. Alfred bite down on Jack's trachea, then started biting harder and faster on Jack's nose and cheeks like a rabid beast.

  There's no way to survive this.

  They keep on coming!

  The wood chipper on wheels was charging at him. The giant engine coughed up choking plumes of black diesel fumes. There was a suction tube at the front. David felt its pull. Ed Gein was suctioned first. He went in feet first. He wouldn't let go of the metal edges of the tube. David picked up a handful of dirt and threw it at the man's face. Gein unleashed a cry of pain, released his arms, and was sucked up and immediately chopped up into bloody sawdust.

  Elizabeth Bathory and Chomps were moving in.

  Lawn mowers with insane blades were fast approaching.

  Race cars with long jagged blades jutting out the tires were speeding up to slaughter him.

  The vehicles were mercilessly cutting down anyone in their path.

  The killers and the victims were one in the same.

  Everybody was fighting to the death.

  He didn't know what had happened to Kayla.

  Bathory had him by the neck. Chomps clutched his legs. Halloween Man was trying to wrap his bag of candy around his face and snuff him.

  He could only close his eyes and pray death was quick, and that he didn't wake up in hell.

  Elizabeth Bathory's face was pulverized by one hundred bullets. There was nothing left of her but two legs from the kneecaps down to her feet. Chomps was decapitated by another fuselage of bullets.

  David couldn't believe his eyes.

  Demo had finally shown up.

  "You like my artillery? Time for some target practice, baby!"

  Demo was fully loaded and ready for war. Kayla was standing beside him with a wild animal snarl embedded in her features.

  "Work your way over to us, David!" Demo shouted. "This place is about to go UP!"

  Bullets buzzed by him like mad hornets. Demo had lugged in a wheel barrow full of machine gun goodies. Kayla was shooting up the place with two mini Uzi's barking fucking hell. Demo was using a rocket launcher. He blasted two of the insane chopping derby cars and exploded them into high flying fire. He did the same for the other mechanical beasts one-by-one until none of the machines remained functional.

  Demo used the hulking M240 machine gun to turn John Wayne Gacy's belly into a burning barrel of guts. The killer's clown suit turned into a bloody body bag when he hit the ground. The Mechanic was horrified seeing his machines turned into scrap metal. He stopped al
l expressions when Kayla used a TAR 21 machine gun on his ass. There was absolutely nothing left of him but vapor on the wind. Halloween Man's body disintegrated by the sheer number of bullets pounding into his body.

  Kayla and Demo made short work of the killers in the ring.

  David couldn't arrive to their position, nor could he warn them of the ultimate killer behind them.

  Bloom the Ripper had showed up to the fight.

  Two steel hands clutched onto Demo's head from both sides. Those hands enveloped his head and crushed his dome into a wad of nasty pulp. Kayla screamed. Bloom the Ripper punched Kayla on the nose and knocked her out cold.

  That left Bloom the Ripper and David standing face-to-face in the killing ring.

  "I see you changed out of your lingerie. Now you're just an ugly fuck who has steel hands. What's wrong? Can't make up your mind, asshole? You having an identity crisis?"

  Bloom's eyes were raving mad. He was seeing victory flash across his mental screen. Only one more victim to go, and he would prove himself to Satan.

  "Huh, you speak English? You going to kill me then, huh? You're a moron. Didn't you see your buddies get slaughtered? I'll do the same to you."

  "I slaughtered them too, Mr. Smith. Satan has spoken to me. I'm going to carry on the next event. Not my father, but for me alone. I am worthy."

  David couldn't get to the wheel barrow of weapons without crossing Bloom's path first. He stood there without any real defense. Terror should've paralyzed his nervous system. Most would beg for their lives. How many times should he have said 'Please don't kill me' by now.

  Not him.

  He had survived enough of this shit that he was above that.

  He only had two words for Bloom.

  "Fuck you."

  The words caught Bloom off guard.

  "What was that?"

  "Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!"

  David saw it on the ground. The Unabomber's severed head. He kicked it like a soccer ball. The head spun fast and connected with Bloom's face. Bloom didn't fall back. He wasn't even dazed. He blinked once, snarled, raged, and charged for him.