Call with Molly

RINGING...


> You are sitting on the porch of an old, rotting house. Its exterior is a pink that's nearly white. Or, it was. Now it's dirty. Moldy. You sigh, looking out at the misty forest surrounding this house. It just gets farther out each time.
> You grip your knife tightly. You can, faintly, hear movement ahead.

Which first.

M'kay.

> You stand up, dusting your knees off. Your grip remaings tight on your knife as you head into the house. It reeks of mold and saltwater. It reeks of corpses.

> You are currently standing in the FOYER. There is a staircase leading upstairs, as well as two doors to either side of you. Before you stands a statue of a woman whose name you don't know. Behind her is another door.

I came here on my own volition.

> It digs into your face. You try to ignore it.

> It's made of some kind of stone. The woman appears rather curvy, but her face is obscured by a moth.

> From behind the moth's wings, blood is slowly flowing down her cheeks.

> It's a staircase down. The rot smell penetrates your nostrils through the mask and makes your brain feel foggy. You might vomit. You can't see the bottom.

> You return to the foyer with a sigh of relief.

> Same as before. Two doors on either side, a statue with a door behind it, and a staircase up. There's no decor, no portraits on the walls. Just rot.

There's two.

> You clench your jaw, heading into the room. It's an old dining room. There are dolls in each of the chairs. There's a tea set on the table, all of the tea murky and full of flies. There are two other doors within this room.

> You hear a scream from rather far away outside. You can't quite tell if it's human. The Beast has a knack for mimickry.

> The tea cups are full of murky tea. Some of them look moldy. There's bugs floating in the liquid.

> The dolls are made of porcelain and cloth. They do not have faces.

> More of the nasty liquid.

> You pick up a doll with straight, dark hair and a tan complexion. She's wearing a red dress. You put it in your messenger bag.

> You head through the left door of the dining room. It brings you to a small kitchen. There's nothing, no appliances, just a few counters and cabinets. There's a door that would probably lead out to the backyard of the house.

> Cobwebs, bugs. Nothing.

I'm not doing that.

> You head back into the dining room. Behind you is the kitchen door. To your left is a door you haven't gone through yet. To your right is the door to the foyer.

> It leads into a long hallway. The house could not possibly have a hallway that stretches this long. There shouldn't even be a room here.
> There are four doors in this hallway, two on either side. Being here makes you feel sick.

> You enter the second door on the right side.

...

> You slam the door shut.

Not that one.

The one you had me go in. I'm not going in that one.

It's unpleasant.

I don't want people knowing.

> Your grip on your knife tightens and your jaw clenches. You enter the room.

> It's a little girl's bedroom, only illuminated by a small nightlight. There's lots of dolls, lots of toys. A bookshelf full of books. And yet, you're horrified.

> A gunshot can be heard outside. They're getting closer.

It sounds at least a mile out. Hiding is antithetical to my goal.

> You start walking back out of the room.

If I tell you, will you try to hinder me?

> You reach into your messenger bag. Your free hand grips something.

It's my gun, a Makarov pistol.

> You huff, shoving it in the holster on your belt.

Okay. In that case, I'm sure you'll be fine knowing my goal is to keep anyone and anything from entering the labyrinth.

> Another gunshot. Closer.
> Another scream. Much closer.

Round ends when everything's dead. Doesn't matter.

It does. More time spent cultivating creates greater divine energy.

I have a goal that I exist to fulfill. Simple as.

> Before you can catch your bearings, the window of the dining room breaks open. There's a gunshot in the wall across from it. You run into the foyer and up the stairs.

> Shortly, Alexander Valentine and Cassidy Orchid enter through the front door, one after the other. Alex is holding his sledgehammer, typical, and Cassidy has some kind of hunting rifle. She looks really scuffed.
> Neither of them can see you.

> Alexander starts to laugh.
"I can smell their cologne. They're still in here."

> Cassidy frowns.
"Just a nuisance."

> You reach for your gun.

> You are upstairs.

> There's two rooms, both of them appearing to be bedrooms. There's what appears to be an attic hatch as well.
> You do not think you're going to be able to sneak away.

> You don't even hesitate. You swiftly stand, the wall at the top of the staircase allowing decent coverage as you open fire at Cassidy.

> You manage to hit her hand and her stomach. She drops the gun.
"SHIT!"
> She screams, clutching her stomach and crumpling.

> Alexander knocks her to the ground, taking the rifle and hiding in the dining room. He briefly looks up to see you at the top of the staircase. Between the rifle and the sledgehammer, he's gonna need to lose one if he wants any good mobility.

> You open fire at him, but he doesn't move from his hiding place. Just to ensure she's dead, you double-tap Cassidy, shooting her in the skull. She doesn't make much noise.

"I do wonder just how much of you is behind that mask anymore,"
> Alex calls out.
"Feels like I've seen it more than I've seen your face."
Will you shut up? The two of you are so annoying.

> You begin reloading your gun, ducking behind the wall.

> You pull down the attic hatch swiftly. You hear Alex start to move.

> You climb up the hatch as fast as possible. Alex curses under his breath as he realizes the weight of his sledgehammer.
> Looking around the attic, there's more rooms. That's impossible. You shouldn't even be able to stand right now. There's a staircase at the end, going up.

> You run to the stairs, hearing Alex struggle to climb the ladder. Heading up, you find more rooms. Rotting. At the end of the floor, you see a door similar to one you'd find in a hospital.

> You enter the doors. It's.... a hospital hallway. Sterile-smelling, sterile-feeling. Stagnant. You're nearly calmed by it, until you hear Alex running behind you. You quickly turn and shoot him in the knee, making him fall onto the rotting hardwood floor.

"You're such a cunt..."
> He grunts, getting back up shakily.
"But I've already got what I wanted. You lose."
> He chuckles, limping towards you, dragging his sledgehammer through the groove of the transition into the tiled hall floor.

Once I kill you, I'll just find her and finish the job.

> You back up, matching his pace.

"And what then? What's gonna happen to you?"
That's unimportant.
"It amazes me that you just don't think for yourself."

> Alex swings his hammer. As he does, you shoot his face.

> The moment your bullet makes impact, so does his hammer. Your mask shatters instantly, and the both of you are brought to the ground.

> You slowly make your way onto your knees. Alex's face is bleeding. You shot him in the eye. He's laughing.
> You grip your blade and drive it into his neck repeatedly, sawing back and forth.

"You're a monster."
> He laughs, his dark blood pouring onto the clean hospital floor.
"You have nothing controlling you now and yet you still choose to torture me."
How are you talking.
> His smile widens. His teeth look like that of a dog.

> You press your gun to his temple and slice out his tongue messily. He chuckles.

"Nothing you do to me can stop what comes next."
... And what is that.
"I'm not one to spoil surprises, Molly."
> You blow his brains out.
> He cackles.

There's nothing left of his face.

> Instead, you opt to slice his Achilles tendons. Then, you pick up his sledgehammer, and you slam them down on his femurs.

> You're already walking away. Deeper into the hospital.

Rooms. There's four halls here, or really two that intersect in a cross shape. The one I just came from has an office and a reception desk. The one across from it is just rooms, as are the other two.

> You head left, checking inside each room. They all look the same. Psych ward rooms with fake windows.

> You head right. One of the rooms is different. Trashed. Papers litter the floor. There's blood, dirt, mold, and shit all over the place. There are incoherent carvings and drawings all over the walls.

> You pick up one of the papers. Then another. They all discuss disappearances. They all happened on the same day, in the same town. Some names include Jessica Lawson, Avery Lamb, and...

> You pick one up that caught your eye.

> Molly Lucas.

Looks like my hair used to be longer.

> You huff, setting down the paper. You step out of the room and note which room it is. You then head back to the reception desk.
> You open a filing cabinet and start searching.
> The room you were standing in belonged to someone named Sunny Evans.

Others?

> You're flipping through the filing cabinet intently.

> You pull out a file titled "LAWSON, JESSICA A."

This.

We can focus on that later. Right now...

> You search through the file until you find her room number. You start walking.

Not at all. I had no idea how large this house was.

> You soon reach Jessica's room. Pushing the door open, you find a rotting, concrete staircase. It's wet. Nowhere to go but up.

> You head up. You are now in a dark, concrete maze. Pipes line the walls. It's so humid and dripping, puddles of murky water on the floor.

It is all incredibly odd. But this is what I'm used to.

> The odor of rot fills your nostrils.

Yes, it is.

> You start walking. You hear someone far, far away. She's already here.

> You reload your gun, walking swiftly and quietly towards where the clunking of her boots is coming from. It's a ways away, but you... well, you *like to think* you know your way around this place.

Do you think it'll stop with Lily?

Even if all of us are exhausted, disposed of, turned to angels, I'm sure someone will continue this. If not immediately, then a long time from now. It will continue regardless.

> The footsteps stopped.

...

> As you start walking again, you hear something run up behind you. Before you're able to fully turn, you're knocked to the ground.

> What stands above you is just awful.
> Alexander's mangled corpse. His broken, mutilated body seems to have refused, regenerated, although... completely wrong. His face, which has no skin and barely any flesh, appears like a wolf skull with an awful smile of human and canine teeth. His legs are bent out of shape, and his arms appear longer, more spindly. His nails are much longer.
> His jaw unhinges as he looks up at the ceiling, cackling. His eyes, his *human* eyes, roll around in their sockets like they're barely making an effort to actually look anywhere.

> He leans down as you fumble for your gun.

> You shoot him square between the eyes. His smile, somehow, widens. His eyes lock onto you.







> You are laying in a pool of your own blood, mixed with murky, bacteria-ridden water. Your muscle tissue, fat, bits of bone, and intestines, are spread out around you. You're coughing and vomiting up blood.

> There is nothing you can do.
> There is no one who will save you.

> After a while, you hear the clunk, clunk, clunk of boots walking towards you.

> Lily leans down, holding your face. She slaps you.
"That's for dying..."
> She whines.

> She then leans in, presses her lips to yours and shoves her tongue into your bloody, vomit filled mouth. She makes out with you for maybe ten seconds. Savoring.
"And that's for being an excellent distraction!"

> With a giggle, she skips away.



DIAL TONE.