Log; complete

[reluctant-eager.livejournal.com]

When; March 4, morning.
Rating; PG-13 (because there's mention of torture).
Characters; Pinhead (suffertheflesh) and Kirsty Cotton (reluctant_eager).
Summary; Former horror heroine go dark meets her pseudo protector-tormentor when she starts wondering about the state of her sanity.
Log;
It was hard to wake up knowing there was no breakfast or food in the fridge, or fresh clothes tucked and ready to change for a routine of work. Kirtsy Cotton never lacked money or accommodations, she had been smart academically and resourceful to live alone without her father’s help or mood to touch the bloodied will left to her.

The apartments were furnished and free of rent but were deprived of supplies she needed to live. Kirsty missed smell of coffee, her numerous wardrobe and the cold brush of the Colt she hid beneath the pillows.

When the sun came out next morning in the midst of heart theft, secret wars, explosions and a festival, Kirsty knew the City wasn’t a trippy dream caused by the excess of sleeping pills, it was real and loud as the ticking that mercilessly hammered her in her ears.

She sat on the mattress, holding the golden brimmed puzzle box on her lap, staring at it before gazing out the window. She had to get a job and soon, if she were to survive without dishonest charity. But who would hire someone wearing at nightgown or borrowed jeans?

Everything was so surreal… A goddam dream, Kirsty thought frustrated, scratching her head. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a dream or hell.

This place was ridiculous. Utterly and completely ridiculous, moreso than the dimmed chaotic mortal world. Since the very second Xipe Totec arrived, he's been rather annoyed. There was no -order-. There was no point. Oh, of course, he could force order, as it was his specialty. But these people...half of them weren't stupid. And considerably powerful. He never believed in confrontation without true cause. It wasn't worth it. Still..he was so...restless...He was just about to resign himself to mentally rotting his thinly kept patience for these creatures when...

She appeared.

Alive. Awake.

He hadn't expected it, really. Of -all- the people. It was a lie to say he wasn't...pleased? Yes. Quite pleased. It wasn't hard to find her, after all was said and done. He quickly blinked in and out of sight, heading for the floor of her apartment. No matter how much he really wanted to deny it (he knew she would deny it too), he was connected to her. In a way. Not just because of the box she so hopelessly clinged to, but...her. Her essence. Her being.

Kirsty Cotton. "The one that got away", in all respects. She was his...and damned if anyone was going to touch her.

He stood before the door. Then inside it, off to a dark corner. Then outside her bedroom, once again in shadow. She was so close, and so real. She teased him, her untouched soul just...beckoning to him. The box, so lightly placed on her cloth-covered legs...he sneered. Clever girl.

"Still unsure of your reality."

When he spoke, Kirsty jumped, standing immediately to look for the source of the voice. His voice. She felt herself the cold shudder start on her forehead. Had someone betrayed her? Brought him again in her life? But there was no one left she trusted to do that. No one. That realization made her recover her composure, what in the past would be pure dread had slowly melted in determination and… resignation.

He couldn’t leave her alone because she didn’t want him gone. She clung to him, as much as she loathed admit it. She relied on the cenobite ever since her father died.

I really need to pick better company. My father wouldn’t approve them, she thought bitterly, grasping the cube firmly with her right hand. She opened the door and stormed outside her room. Wherever he was, he would likely appear suddenly from a dark corner in hopes to frighten her off.

“Whoever gave you my address?” Kirsty asked, rather annoyed. “Why you don’t ever knock the goddamn door?” She waved the puzzle box on the air. “You have come for this, haven’t you? Means to call home?” she asked, mixing reality with dreams. He admitted to invade her dreams in the past, why should this time be any different?

A low chuckle rumbled from, indeed, a nearby corner. The aptly named Pinhead stepped into a dim light and regarded her. And the box. So angry, when it was her that so happily named him her bodyguard...Such a simple woman, really. Simple, and yet...just as complex as he. She's just lost. A voice rang, from the dark recesses of his mind. Pinhead ignored it. Per usual. It wasn't as strong as it used to be...but somehow, around her, it would be.

"Kirsty, you should know by now...I have my ways of finding you." He arched his fingertips together and watched her. "Your soul sings. It was only so much easier with the box..."

That was it? No chains or creepy setting? No bells tolling or cenobites appearing? Kirsty narrowed her eyes and waited for a minute. Nothing happened. She did not know what to think, this was disconcerting. They were not bargains or deals or attempts to escape, she was tired of it already. What was she running from? Her life wasn’t going to get any better.

“Yeah, I guess you always did,” commented Kirsty. “I didn’t know why you always bothered. You must have been busy to chase after one soul that got away.” She lowered the arm that offered the box. “This isn’t a dream, is it?” she asked, knowing that she could trust him. He wouldn’t lie, there wouldn’t be a point to keep lies when both knew his goals.

"No." He paced a moment, making an arc across the room, almost inspecting her modest living quarters. Whether or not he approved them didn't matter. He was far more interested in the security of the place. What could get in where, and what could get out...and how easily.

"You are quite awake, Kirsty...and I am quite real..." He looked to her...quite horribly amused. "Strange, isn't it."

Kirsty watched him inspect her apartment. She liked to tempt fate and chose the number thirteen. She found that horribly amusing, uncaring if the unlucky digit summed to her natural magnet for misery. She was just tired, almost numb in a way, about this chaos. She wanted to take over her life and put an order to it. But she had landed herself in a city that wouldn’t allow that.

“You’re telling me that you are… trapped like the rest of us?” she asked, before bursting into laughter. “You!” Oh, the irony. It was hilariously sad. She had been looking the network last night, before going to bed and found interesting details that could use in the future. “So where do you live?” she asked, stopping the laughter to put her best straight face. “I’m looking for a roommate.”

He turned to watch her as she laughed, annoyance twitching at his features. HE didn't find it very amusing, and was ready to tear apart the being responsible. And of all the places to be TRAPPED...Of all the places to be trapped with -her-.

...She had to be -kidding-.

"...A roomate." He tilted his head with a purely comical unamused expression. He gave the place another quick glance, refusing to entertain the idea of living -there-."I reside in the Underground. Not a place for you..."

“You heard me,” Kirsty started in a business like voice. “The goddamn ticking almost didn’t let me sleep last night, so I have to look for someone to stay with me. If not you, I’ll just ask any stranger that happens to come across my journal about it.” She smirked, waiting for his reaction. “Besides, if you’re going to show up without knocking the door or forewarning in my apartment, you better stay in the other room and remodel it with chains and hooks at your liking.”

She glanced at him, scolding. “You’re not my father to dictate which place is for me and which isn’t.” The underground piqued her curiosity. “If I want, I’ll go to the underground. For now, I’m staying here.” So was the puzzle box.

He turned to her fully, almost sharply, at the "ask any stranger". Times as they were in the city, that was possibly the -worst- thing she could do. His eyes narrowed as she went on, briefly thinking on how pleasurable it would be to sew that pretty mouth shut...with frayed wire. Xipe Totec was not a servant to be ordered, nor a dog to be commanded. His days were about to get -much- longer...

She reminded him much of a petulant child, stamping her foot, refusing to listen to the advice of a parent, or an authoritive figure. So clever at times, then others, so childlike. If there was anyone she should listen to about this city, it was him...he hadn't been there long, but one didn't need to to see the kind of place the Underground was, or the creatures it kept. Still...she wouldn't be going anywhere without him...

"Still playing by your rules, Kirsty..." He slighted, crossing to see the adjacent guest room.
When he went to check the guest room, Kirsty grinned broadly at his back. She was proud she had convinced him to stay (and relieved he would, but like hell she would admit that). She opted to stop smiling and put a serious front as she approached him. Kirsty wasn’t stupid to anger him further, it would have consequences for her.

“If I didn’t. I would have lost the game long ago,” she replied, following to the guest room. It was empty, the place would furnish at his liking. She stopped and waited at his answer, reaffirming her security if he would stay or not. “Are you going to stay?” she asked, expecting her voice didn’t sound too hopeful. “You wanted to take my soul to Hell. This is the next best option for you?”

: He felt her eyes on his back as he looked into the room. Rather small...annoyingly so. Of course, at the moment, he was probably pointing out everything irritating about his situation. Including the woman standing behind him. She was the worst of it all.

Next best option? There -was- no "next best option" for that. He turned fractionally to look at her, dark black eyes searing into hers. He was not happy about this, in the very least. Residing in a domestic domicile for Hell knows how long...no matter -how- it would conform it his needs...unacceptable. But he was between a rock and a hard place. And how he hated her for it.

He didn't answer. Pinhead merely stepped into the room, and almost instantly, it transformed into a dark twisted cave-like quarters, chains, hooks and knives dangling precariously from the shadowed ceiling. Clear light shining through small cracks in the walls gave the only illumination there. It was hard to tell where the walls were now...or what could be lurking there...

He looked at her. Good enough?

Kirsty was not moved by his visible, unspoken anger. As if she was the cause of this mess, she bet the City brought her because he was there. He summoned her, not other way around this time. She watched as the setting change and dreaded to discover she was no longer afraid of hooks, chains, knives, not after her number with Trevor’s three whores. They and Bret didn’t die slowly, unlike Trevor’s shot in the head.

“See almost like home,” Kirsty said, trying to cheer him up. “I’ll borrow one of those knives. I left my gun in the real world.” And she needed to sleep with a weapon under her pillow, walk with one inside her purse. “Go if you don’t want to stay. Just don’t look at me as this was my idea. I didn’t summon you here.” She was annoyed at his expression. He almost looked human, so disgruntled outside his element.

Home...

She will, will she. He looked about and eyed the weapons that hung around him, carefully choosing which to give her. Yes, much like the petulant child, defiantly exclaiming 'I didn't do it'. So free of blame. It was, however, her fault that he was standing there at all. It was her fault from the beginning. For...reminding him. For saving you. She hadn't saved him. She'd condemned him to never having a moment's peace without that worthless memory of a human pulling at a dead conscience.

He decided none of them were suitable enough. He felt about the various grisly tools on his person, and plucked a blade from his belt. He brought it to his eye level. It was a reasonably-sized knife, jagged and horrible. There was a double hook on the end, designed to carry flesh with it when plunged and removed from it's victim.

"No. You did not." He walked to the doorway. "This time." He lightly turned the handle towards her to take.

She hadn’t expected him to give her a special weapon. Kirsty was going to take a modest knife, enough to protect herself but not a torture device. But she took the handle, grasped it firmly and brought it to inspect it. It was shocking of how coldly she studied the weapon, feeling the weight to secure it on her hand.

“Thank you,” she said, honestly. It was for the blade? For saving her all those times? For allowing her to escape? Or for opening her eyes little by little? She wondered if someone ever thanking him for anything as of late. It was too surreal, they were going to share an apartment in wonderland in crack and she wasn’t running away anymore. “I’m going to look for a job. What about you?” she asked. What did he do in his time here? He couldn’t torture without being summoned, or so she thought.

Kirsty walked out his room, holding the knife reluctant but eager as she usually was. Wanting to play yet horrified at the idea. There was still a shred of sanity and humanity within her. But he had affected her, as much she had impacted him.

He watched her with his tool. It was so natural in her slender hand...it fit. He thought he had made a proper choice. His eyes flicked to hers as she thanked him. Thanked him. Those words, they were so alien...and from -her-. And so...sincere. He was going to stay here. With her. Indefinately, maybe. In this absurd place and it's even more absurd curses and chaos. Grand.

Oh, what was he going to -do-...what -had- he been doing. Lurking about, gaining information on the City. On it's inhabitants, as well as the Deities. On the Carousel. He tried to imagine Kirsty working in one of the nearby shops...well...there -was- a petshop, wasn't there...

Pinhead followed her as she left, ever silently. He watched the knife in her hands, sure she was...intrigued by it's very presence...

"Learn more of this place. The profound ticking is coming from the machine in the middle of the City. The Carousel. Apparently, it is ticking down."

Kirsty lifted and lowered the blade, swung it with care. She would be careful to not chop her own body if she tried to strike with this. How the hell she was going to carry it, she didn’t know. It wouldn’t fit inside a purse, if she ever got one. But she liked the weapon, it was a gift. Last present someone had given her was the puzzle box meant to harm her. This one had the opposite effect.

“I’m trying,” Kirsty replied, meeting his gaze and leaving the blade still for a time. “Some ‘ravens’ are stealing hearts, there are ninjas at war, a fucking angel is raping women and there are the Japanese version of the Ghostbusters taking over.” She frowned at the mention of the Carousel. “Our time is ticking away, I heard.” It was insane, but she had to cope with insanity every day. “After I get a job… I may let you borrow it,” she murmured, offering him a smile. Her left hand still grasped the puzzle box. They chose her to keep it. As guardian? She didn’t know, it was her responsibility. “It’ll be easier to live with you if I didn’t come home and see you surfing the web.” That would be depressing.

He watched her swing the blade back and forth...it was strange how right she looked with it. How it suited her, when she was still so human...so alive, and untouched. It pleased him to watch her with it...she liked it.

A corner of his mouth twitched upwards as she described the recent happenings in the city. She was just as annoyed as he was, maybe even moreso. After all, dealing with him and his kind her entire life readies you for the strangest in life. It doesn't mean she -wanted- it.

...Borrow it...?

Pinhead paused to stare some at her, and her smile. His eyes wandered to the box in her hand...then back to her as she spoke again. He had grown -quite- anxious since he came. No contact with his world, no...souls to collect...no suffering. Kirsty, Kirsty, Kirsty.

Oh, he was pleased. "...Do as you may...Kirsty..."

“But remember, it was given to me. It must return to me in the end,” Kirsty reminded him seriously. It always sought her. She wondered why it came to her when she didn’t look for it. It was a resignation to keep this puzzle in her life but no one would know how to deal with. To grow out desire and curiosity that used to represent, as a tool of safety.

She was losing it, but she still had some time. It was only human to borrow more.

“Do I choose like the last time?” Kirsty asked, inwardly concerned. She had been the one who sentenced them. She didn’t have regrets, only satisfaction and that was even worse. “I’ll have to go to the underground then.” It sounded as a place of those who deserved him. Unseen, unclean. “I’ll have to learn how to use that blade you gave me if I venture down there.”

: "By all means..." He watched her cooly. He had every intention of returning it to her...he couldn't really keep it anyway. It wasn't the way things worked, and by laws, he couldn't posess it, really...a vessel can. A messenger, really. One to pass it...circulate it...

Fate seemed to have chosen her.

The thought of Kirsty venturing down into that pit of pure sin and horror didn't settle with him. She was a pure thing...well, pure enough. And trouble often went looking for her when she wasn't looking for it herself. Just look at the maggot of a husband she had...it was a good thing she no longer trusted those flawed excuses for life. It put him slightly at ease...still...

"If you insist on using that for your platform, Kirsty, yes...you will."

“I’ll need a teacher,” Kirsty mentioned, looking at the blade. “If I had to use it, I prefer to keep my limbs attached to my body.” If she swung it the wrong way, she her arm could fall off. Did he expect everyone be superb fencers? “And there’s only one teacher I trust.”

Her eyes wandered to meet his. His black, empty gaze, wasn’t very comforting, terrifying even, but she knew he had a soul, buried within his body. She knew about Elliott, he remembered the confusion; it must be similar to what she was experiencing now. Had he been like that bastard of her doctor in life? Kirsty didn’t think so. She didn’t know why humans become cenobites, but she could bet that Elliott’s case had been different from Channard’s.

He eyed the blade he gave her. He wouldn't have chosen it if he thought she couldn't learn how to wield it...and she would learn from him.

His eyes met hers. There were many things in this unfamiliar world Xipe Totec did not like. Truth be told, he loathed them so entirely, he could set them on fire with just a thought of his hate. And now, with her here, he was going to have to watch them far more closely. So injured, Kirsty Cotton, yet so strong...so tired of running, ready to fight back. He wasn't happy to be commanded by such a woman...but it would be a lie to say he wasn't pleased to have her in his presence. He knew that she was the only one that had seen ultimate knowledge...seen, nearly experienced the greatest pleasures of their world...the only one who had seen him. Me. Elliott. It unnerved him that he so readily thought himself Elliott all of a sudden. The human's name hadn't passed his mind in a long time...let alone be associated with himself. It was her. It had to be. Yet, he...didn't want it to...stop.

Not yet.

Xipe Totec gently inclined his head, ready to teach what needed to be taught.

"..I am at your service. Kirsty."