The roads of the swamp were so nonsensical that by the time you realized you were going the wrong way, you had no idea how long youād been off track or which way to go to get back to the route you shouldāve been taking.
To top that off, you were running low on gas. If you didnāt find somewhere to re-fuel, youād be stranded. And gas stations werenāt common along dirt roads in the middle of nowhere.
You killed the engine, and the systems in your truck slowly shut off. The headlights flickered out, leaving you in complete darkness. You slammed your head against the steering wheel in frustration.
This was your fault. If youād planned, if you hadnāt been obsessed with leaving so soon and actually stopped to look at a map before driving out to die in the middle of the Louisiana swamp-
āIām not going to die,ā you said to yourself, grip tight on the steering wheel.
You step out of the car. Itās almost pitch black, with trees too dense to let the light of the moon through. The sound of cicadas is nearly deafening. As you scan your surroundings, you spot something in the distance.
Maybe half a mile away, thereās something that looks like a warm yellow light. A house.
Itās the closest thing you have to a chance.
You climb back in your truck, and drive further down the road. As you get closer, the light source becomes more clear- itās the porchlight to a decrepit farmhouse. You pull to the side of the road, and take your backpack from the passenger seat. You open the glove compartment, take out your handgun, and slide it into one of the pockets of your pants. If worse comes to worst.Ā
From a distance, the porchlight had stood out against the darkness of its surroundings, but now itās clearer than ever how dim it is. You approach the front door, and knock twice.
It falls open, revealing the inside is completely dark.
No. This canāt be it, your car probably canāt make it another mile and thereās nothing anywhere near here. There has to be something. A light being on out front means thereās power. Power means that if thereās a phone, itāll be working. So you enter the house.
āHello?ā
Thereās no reply. You werenāt really expecting one. It was stupid, in hindsight. If there was some sort of swamp methhead serial killer in here, they wouldnāt have responded anyway. But it still helped a little to calm your nerves. You took your phone from your pocket. Still no cell service, but the battery was high enough that you decided it was safe to use it as a flashlight.Ā
You turned the flashlight on, and slowly looked around the inside of the house. It was disgusting, to say the least. Whoever had lived here had to have left quickly. There was still food left out on the table, but itās since become a blurry mass of mold. The fruit flies were so dense you nearly inhaled one several times.Ā
You pulled your shirt over your nose and mouth, and did everything you could to avoid touching anything as you made your way into what looked like the living room. You shone the light around, but all you saw was decomposing furniture and wallpaper eaten away by black mold. The table under the window caught your eye. There was something off about it, but you didnāt realize exactly what until looking closer. In the center of the table, thereās a rectangle a little bigger than your hand that was almost entirely free from dust and rot. A rectangle big enough to fit a phone. And it had to have been removed recently.
Looters, you thought. Maybe it was one of the only working things left here, and to your detriment, someone had decided it was worth salvaging. In frustration, you kicked the leg of the table. Hard enough that it broke and clattered to the floor. If you werenāt alone and somehow hadnāt been detected yet, they surely knew you were here now. You were about to give up and go back to your car when you noticed something you hadnāt previously.
On the other end of the room, there was a cracked-open door with the smallest bit of light coming from it.
You approached it. It led down an unsteady set of stairs, into what looked like an unfinished basement. At the very bottom, there was a pale light creeping from around the corner. There being a single light on in an abandoned house made no sense, but you were desperate. You put your hand in your pocket and held the grip of your handgun.
The stairs creaked loudly as you walked down them. You took the gun from your pocket as you turned the corner at the end of the staircase.
It was empty. The area was very small, containing only a chair and a small wooden table, with a lamp andā¦ with a phone.
You rushed forward and picked it up. When you held the receiver to your ear, there was nothing. You felt a cold rush of adrenaline through your veins. It was covered in grime, it was entirely possible it didnāt work anymore. You glanced around, and your eyes landed on the end of the cord. Thank fuck. It was just unplugged. But as you leaned down to pick it up, you heard the floorboards above you creaking
-@pawprintsinfreshsnow
"God fucking dammit" lucas yelled out as he frustratedly kicked at nothing but the air. He grumbled and sighed dramatically dispite no one being there to hear it before leaving the barn to go see if there anything interesting in the house to tinker with or somethings of the sort.
Lucas was bored. Unbelievable fucking bored.
His last victim died a while ago, and he was just staring to get a kick out of them to. The well of trap ideas had run dry, not that he had much materials at the moment to make anything anyways. Doomscrolling had lost his intrest, especially since he wasnt technically allowed to be on social media much less post anything, meaning he couldn't troll anymore. Hell, not even using his left hand was giving him much serotonin.
So, He wandered into the part of the property least likely to have Jack or Marguerite in, he did his best to avoid them even before the mold and no matter how bored he was he was definitely not about to get harassed about eating godawful cooking before it was even dinner time, or deal with whatever mood the old man was in.
He waundered about the house lazily, looking around as if he was seeing it for the first time - it had been quite a bit since he was in this part and man, it really had gone to shit. after a few minutes lucas ended up deciding this was more boring then just staring at his celling, so he picked up one of Jack's packs of cigarettes he left lying around just to piss him off and was about to call it a day and go back to the barn - untill he heard something.
Something breaking in the other room followed by footsteps Not heavy enough to be his dad, not in the right pattern to be his mom, and he knows for a fact zoe isnt willingly out of her trailer right now so... a new intruder. And, a new play thing to hunt down
Now, Usually, lucas didn't bother - letting jack deal with intruders and taking whatever plaything that wasnt finished off that he deemed would be a fun toy to put in a trap for a few hours - maybe a couple days if he found their screams particularly fun to hear, liked the way they bled, and or was just in that sort of mood.
Truth be told, lucas was coward. Its not that he was shying away from pain, most things werent off the table for him, including masochism. But the idea of lasting consequences, somehow dying, or worse - a bruised ego, made him, quite frankly, a pussy. there was a reason he watched his victims through a screen for the most part.
Sure, sometimes he'd get hands on but there was typically a level of separation that made the space more controlled. Eg. Victims being tied up, to badly injured, drugged, ect. He liked being in complete control in that way, dispite him having an overwhelming advantage on an average person due to the mold - that and well, he cant exactly die. He still was too scared to take a chance at someone outside of one of his trap environments... usually.
But, under certain circumstances - boredom - he'd be willing to catch a target himself..well, probably with a molded or two at his disposal if things went south. Besides, he wasnt forcefully taught how to use a shotgun for nothing
So, he slinked away to find one of the many shotguns strewn about the baker estate and quickly makes his way back before the old man could get his hands on whoever had wandered onto the grounds.
He searched the floor that he first heard them on before noticing the door leading down had now been wide open. Bingo.
Lucas grinned, holding his shotgun and quickly made his way down the stairs, coming face to face with the intruder, phone cable in hand and.. its a guy. Not what lucas was nessecarily hoping for, but a victim is a victim.
"You lost?" he asked in a stupidly cocky and mocking tone - committing to the confrontation
He dropped the cord, and spun around. When he saw the other man staring back at him- and the shotgun he was holding- he froze. He could almost hear his own heartbeat. His own gun slipped from his hand onto the floor.
This man didnāt have to be here to kill him. Maybe this was just the owner of the property and he thought heād come here to steal things, he rationalized to himself. He needed to stay calm.
āIām really sorry, I thought this place was abandoned- My carās almost out of gas and I was- I was looking for a phone.ā He did his best to look composed, but this man was setting off more alarm bells in his head by the second. He took another step backwards, pinning himself against the table.
Lucas couldn't help but giggle to himself a little, any bit of worry he had about confrontation subsiding immediately. This guy was practically throwing himself into a trap without even being asked.
Speaking of traps, he had a few set up and ready to go but lucas wanted to have a little more fun with this one. Plus, hes been out of ideas for a while and this one might spark some inspiration, hed been meaning to repurpose some of his old shit anyways. So for now, the basement was probably the best option.
Before even saying anything, he inched closer, and quickly picked up the gun the guy dropped. What the point of having a gun if in the face of danger you drop the damn thing anyways?
"Stranded huh?" He responded, half playing along half mocking " well, that phone aint gonna do you too much good, doesnt work. So, hows bout' you come with me? "
Dispite the more 'upbeat' almost zany voice it was clear lucas was making a threat - he *was* a tall, hobo looking man who now had not one gun but two, telling a stranger to follow him. But lucas was curious if this guy would somehow believe him, or atleast go willingly - he was already clearly rationalizing things to himself, any normal person would have ran, and most people round these parts would have shot at seeing lucas come down like he did. But this guy didnt, and that was fuckin funny.
He was quickly losing hope that this man didnāt have any ill-intent towards him. He definitely did not want to follow him anywhere, heād rather take his chances getting as far as he could with whatever fuel his truck had left and waiting on the side of the road for someone else to drive by. If someone else drove by at all. But he was cornered, and the man was armed.
Maybe if he acted like he trusted him, he could follow him until he stopped paying attention and slip away back to the truck. He didnāt know if he could actually outrun him. He wasnāt very fit, and the other man was significantly taller than him. But it was the best chance he had.
āOkay. Iāll come.ā
Trying not to break out laughing, lucas sharply exhaled and clicked his touge, grinning.
It wanst like the guy had any other choice but to come with, it would be stupid to run at this point - But it was still amusing how the guy responded. No questions, no asking for his gun back, not even a request for lucas to lower his. But also no immediate panicking pleading. It was quite obvious that lucas was ill-intentions and for someone who dropped there gun in a panic, he'd expect them to beg to be let go from the get. But he didnt.
Either this guy was genuinely stupid, or was attempting on a plan to escape. Eitherway that was good, lucas was starting to worry this one would be too knowingly compliant, and therefore boring. And it would be fun to watch this guy try to wriggle his way out of whatever cage lucas was about to put him in
"Atta boy" he said teasingly, patting the smaller man's shoulder with his shotgun
Lucas motioned for him to go up the stairs, following close behind as to keep him in his line of sign, and starting to direct him to the basement
He flinched when the other man patted his shoulder with the shotgun, and was too nervous to do anything but listen when he gestured for him to go up the stairs. As he walked back up the stairs, he felt extremely on edge knowing he was right behind him, practically breathing down his neck.Ā
He entered the living room, and pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth once again when the smell hit him. He glanced at the front door. It was still cracked open from when heād entered the house, and was the only visible exit. A few of the windows were shattered, but he doubted he could get through one quickly enough, even without the threat of being cut open by leftover glass. With the other man walking behind him, it occurred to him that he wouldnāt have an opening to run. He decided to try something else.
āActually, I donāt think I need a phone. Do you happen to have any fuel? I just need gas for my car. I can wait here if you have to go check.ā
Lucas stalked closely behind, taking pleasure in the tension thicker than the horrid smell that emimated throughout the entire house. The smell was barley noticed by lucas anyways, he had gotten used to it at that point and it wasnt like his own scent was much better.
As they got into the living room, he too noticed the exit and paid close attention to what his new play thing would do, ready to fire a warningshot if need be.
Instead, the captive opted for a more pragmatic approach - a little boring, and truth be told, a pathethic attempt, but an expected one. Him just booking it wouldn't only be stupid but out of line from his behavor so far. Atleast he now knew that this guy wasn't just being gullible.
Lucas hummed and adjusted how he was holding his shotgun "sure thing, come with me - ill need help lugging it up" he said, not to keen on keeping the 'friendly' act up for too much longer if there was much pushback.
He was running out of ways to escape. He didnāt want to follow him, and he was sure that the other man must know by now he was trying to get away. He knew that confessing he was afraid was a horrible idea, but he didnāt know what other option he had left. took a step backwards.
āIām sorry for breaking in. Please just let me go back to my car.ā
There it was. Lucas serveyed the frightened expression of the smaller man, taking in the pleading and thinking over what things would be most entertaining to put him through.
"What? No need to get all worked up, dooontcha need fuel?" He mocked in a playful tone, the charade already being up "'c'monn, you aint gonna get anywhere without it. b'siiides, im not doin' nothin'. Maybe I can setcha up a room, get more acquainted, maybe play a game - its gettin' pretty late y'know"
He drew in closer as the other man steped away, uncomfortable imposing on the space and trapping him in an even tighter coner - tapping on his shotgun as to draw attention to it
āI donāt want to go with you. I want to leave.ā
He knew his words were useless, he was unarmed, and he knew he wasnāt threatening in the least. He was cornered, he had nowhere to go. But suddenly an idea occurred to him. His eyes drifted to the shotgun.
He didnāt want to end up shot. But he didnāt want to end up wherever this guy was trying to take him either. And the shotgun was so close. Maybe heād be caught off-guard enough that heād be able to rip it out of his grip and get the upper hand.
He suddenly grabbed the shotgun and tried to pull it away.
Lucas' grip had been quite loose, he had already had in his head that this guy wasnt the type to try and cut loose, causing him to brazenly and quickly put the uncomfrotable thought of confrontation away.
So, dispite having the smaller man cornered with his full attention on him - getting suddenly rushed for the gun he'd just been threatening and teasing this captive with made him stumble back and break way from the gun and onto his ass - sure he was tall, and the mold certainly gave him some buffs here and there, but he was still essentially a twig.
Panic immediately set in, his first thought was to run away. Again, he was still a coward in nature, but.. run away from his own victim before anything even happened? No no, that would be too much of an ego bruise for him to consider letting that happen.
Scrambling, not wanting his new toy get away or get more of an upper hand, he rembered he had another gun and grabbed it out of his pants where he crudly stuffed it into - firing a warning shot on instinct, hoping his parents didnt hear, before quickly clambering back onto his feet.
"Now now, no need to get hostile" he said in the same teasing tone, mostly trying to save face as he tried to get the shotgun back
The sound of the other gun firing made him flinch and nearly drop the shotgun, but he held onto it.
He hoped it wasnāt too obvious how inexperienced he was with a shotgun, the last time heād touched one had been when he was a young teenager and his dad had tried to teach him how to hunt. But hopefully it wouldnāt matter. He pointed it directly at the other manās chest, holding onto it tight and took a step forward, out of the corner.
āIām going back to my car. Donāt try to stop me.ā
He really did not want to have to shoot someone. He hoped that wasnāt too obvious either.
Fuck fuck ok that didn't work. Shit, and everything was going so well too, he thought for sure he'd atleast drop the gun like earlier - should he shoot again? He didnt wanna end this just as it started, things haven't even gotten anywhere close to the good part yet. And he didn't know how many bullets were in that thing, that could've been his only shot and if it wasn't maybe he should save em' incase its nessicary.
He slightly backed away. This whole thing had been out of his comfort zone already he didnt want it to start escalating when he was just starting to ease into it.
having a gun to *his* chest from another man wasnt how he wanted the night to go, not that it didnt slightly peak his intrest even more- atleast he'll make for some good entertainment. Ok wait, he needed to calm down for a second and remember that he had the advantage. maybe getting hands on wasnt so bad after all dispite the fact he felt like he was gonna shit his pants for a minute there.
Why was he so worked up again? For a man who frequently gets his limbs cut off either by his own violation or his father's, being face to face with something that couldn't even kill him did not need to freak him out so much - its clear this guy did posess any other sort of ability, hell he couldn't even hold the damn gun right. So why the hell was he letting the least intimidating guy get to him even a little bit? Hell no.
Clearing his mind, or atleast what was left of it, of the fear - he took a breath and stepped closer to the gun. Ballsy, but he hyped himself up in his head for it, plus again he cannot die.
As he did he thought how this might play out. Worse case, he gets shot and he'll have to repair his hoodie and chase the guy down. Best case, the guy is too pussy to shoot him and he can just grap him at that point. Either way it was fine, he was more than confident he could outrun the other man and even if he couldn't his car was out of fuel and its not like he was gonna get anywhere on foot.
Speaking of that car, lucas could probably use it for more parts. Its not like anyone else is gonna need to use it now, and it might make for an interesting trap theme if he repurposed it. It also gives the added bonus if this captive somehow got away, found fuel, and got to the car, well... there would be no more car or atleast little left of it.
Grinning at his thought and his newfound adrenaline riddled confidence lucas firmly planted his feet closer to his soon-to-be victim having the gun poking into his chest. Maybe he regretted this course of actions a little bit, but he was to far not to commit.
'No, your not" he said plainly, "lower the gun, or dont, shootin woooont do you much good though. But if you wanna play a little game of tag or hide and seek, its not my usual forte, but I'll bite"
He did nothing as the man stepped closer to him, even when he got close enough that his chest was pressed against the barrel. He must be on something, what he was saying didnāt make any sense.
āWhat the hell do you mean by that?ā He said. He stepped back again.Ā
āDonāt get any closer. Iām not bluffing. Iāll fucking kill you.ā
For just a moment, he turned to look behind him, through the open front door and out to his truck.
Dispite the warning, it was confirmed in lucas' mind that this guy was nooot gonna shoot - lucas had threatened them again, and the gun was pressed right up against his chest and instead of taking the shot at the obviously violent hillbilly they backed away. Idiot. Not like shooting lucas would've done anything anyways, and it looked like he wasnt gonna give up the bluff either.
Lucas thought how to progress this, his answer coming quickly as the other man turned to look outside. He lunged to get the gun back, toppling both of them over
He cried out in surprise, landing on his back with the other man over him. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, and he gasped for air. He lost his grip on the shotgun as well, and tried to grab at it again but was unsuccessful
āGet away! Get off me!ā
He kicked and clawed at him, trying whatever he could to get away. The other man was bigger and probably stronger than him, but the adrenaline gave him enough energy to put up a decent fight, at least for a little bit
Lucas didnt intend to end up ontop of the other man, he was just trying to go for the gun. He'd always been pretty tall, nut up untill the mold his hight was his only advantage in a fight - he was really skinny. But, along with the immortality, the mold gave a few other strength benefits that made it hard to calculate how exactly strong he actually was. atleast he had the gun back.
As the other guy struggled underneath him, kicking and clawing, lucas tried his best to stay ontop of him. He was actually putting up a good enough fight to have lucas worry for just a minute - before he was able to wrap this hands around the other man's neck, trying to get him to pass out
He clawed at the hands wrapped around his throat, but he could feel himself running out of oxygen. His arms became heavier, and his ability to fight quickly diminished. No matter what he did, he couldnāt get the other man away from him.
He hated himself for it, but he started to tear up. It was the last thing he wanted, for his assailant to see how terrified he was. But as he stared up at him, wide-eyed and gasping for air, he knew trying to hide it was pointless.
Ā his body eventually went limp, and his vision clouded over with darkness as he lost consciousness.
Lucas bared his teeth widely in a grin, watching the tears well in the other man's eyes as he started to go limp. It was the most exhilarating feeling that made this whole debacle worth it, he couldnt wait to see the expression on his face when he inevitably dies.
As soon as he faded out lucas checked his pulse. Still alive. He hummed, getting up and dragging the man haphazardly buy the foot into the basement, putting him nicely into a cell and leaving him there after searching his body to see if there was anything else on him.
He went to go see about the car, already coming up with contraptions he could make using it - this next trap was gonna be fun, the only downside is that it would most definitely take a minute to take the car apart, and especially more time to build and rig whatever lucas decided on and thats only after he finalized a design. Fuck, this guy was gonna be here awhile. Oh well, hes been fun so far
he shifted against the rough concrete floor as he began to wake up. He felt sick to his stomach as he pulled himself into a sitting position, and leaned against the wall. He rubbed his neck, but immediately pulled his hand away when accidentally putting pressure on the bruises.
Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he became aware of what he was facing towards.nNot a normal door, but a door with bars like a prison cell.Ā
He knew this situation was much worse than heād previously imagined. This wasnāt some random crack addict attacking someone on a whim. This must be an actual serial killer. And he probably wasnāt the first victim.
He stood up and went to the cell door, and looked through the bars. There was a pad for entering a code to the left, which he could just barely reach when stretching his arm out. Despite knowing it would almost definitely do nothing, he typed in a random combination of numbers and hit the āenterā key. The screen lit up red, and a loud, obnoxious buzzer went off to signify itād failed.
