Other Fan Fiction / Romance Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Adventures of Thad Gunter ❯ Ripping Off Lovecraft ( Chapter 15 )

 

THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF THAD GUNTER!!!

 

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Chapter 15: Ripping Off Lovecraft

 

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“Dr. Isaac Thaddeus “Thad” “Dude” “Mammy” “Hug-Me the Bear” Edgar Allen Poe Howard Philips Lovecraft Sam Leroy Jackson Gunter III, Jr., PhD, let's talk. There are a few things I should probably tell you.”

 

As if being led around on an invisible wire, like a cow to a slaughter, Thad followed Eaalhi obediently down the oppressively white Renn-Tech hallway. The whole thing was humiliating. James monologue villainously, marching forward the whole time, and Thad just took it. If the company head stopped in order to make a grandiose hand gesture, Thad would stop as well. He didn't care. He was past that point. Why bother doing anything anymore?

 

“You may be wondering why you're here. How you came to be to this point. Well,”

 

There was one of those hand gestures. Thad stopped in his tracks.

 

“Let's just say that little Mr. Eaalhi got his hands on something rather extraordinary many years ago. A few specific nuggets of knowledge.”

 

He turned on his heels and started forward again, hands behind his back, grinning victoriously. Thad followed.

 

“Knowing what I know, I've been able to control certain factors of your life, Thad. Not everything but I can make sure you stay on my chosen path. You know those scraps you've been in over the past few months? And I'm sure you've notice that, despite everything, despite the cartoonish amount of abuse inflicted upon your body, you always came out fine. Or at least healed up perfectly in time. This was my doing.”

 

He leered over his shoulder at his captive, “Despite what it may seem, I never wanted you dead, Thad. Well, there were times when that was certainly what I wanted but not what I needed. You are essential to my goals.”

 

Even this information wasn't enough to knock our hero out of his stupor. He simply continued to go ahead, unaffected by everything. Light particles might have stopped at his skin, but they might have as well have continued on.

 

“I can also put things in your path, as well. The Vindicator, the Landshark, Abu the crazed taxi driver, even Derneck, who admittedly got a little out of control, where all sent to test you. Prove your strength, break your spirits, all of that good stuff.”

 

The four different heels click down a series of stairs. Thad's eyes remained on his soles at they moved up and down across the ascending marble steps.

 

“It was all set in motion by me. You weren't doing any good to me sitting in your house, three-hundred pulse pounds, logging away hours on the internet. No no, I needed you here.”

 

He stopped and pointed down.

 

“Right here. So I pulled some strings, quite literally. Got your little sweetheart into the positions, heh, necessary to bring her to my company's door. That accomplished, it was easy, believe me…”

 

The villain grinned wickedly at Thad. Nothing happen.

 

“Wow, not even insulting your beloved's chastity can get a raise from you these days? Goodness, I really worked one over on you, didn't I?” He smiled, “Wonderful.”

 

“Anyway, with that done, all I had to do was place that picture in your path. I knew, no matter how many speed bumps you might encounter on your quest, you would arrive at this exact location and under my power in no time at all.”

 

The constant stepping brought the duo to a large steel door in the wall. Eaalhi stopped there, removed a key-card from his shirt pocket, and, with a quick swipe, the doors began to creak open.

 

The room within was actually two rooms. The first was plain, composed of nothing but a table housing a coffee maker and a few sugary snacks and a pair of folding chair seated before a huge Plexiglas window. It was through this window that the second room became apparent. It was even more sparsely decorated. All that was visible was large, ornate chair oriented in the center of the floor.

 

Before the window, resting in the chairs were two figures, currently locked in the midst of an intense conversation. The first was a balding, portly security guard. The second was a hulking Porno-Bot, whose backpack glew a light blue and whose shiny metal ass levitated inches above the chair.

 

“All I'm saying is, what the hell is a Worcestershire anyway? Was that somebody famous? What does it take to get a steak sauce named after you?”

 

The Porno-Bot, grasping a Styrofoam cup full of coffee in one of his phallus shaped hands, lifted the piping beverage to his face grill before intoning mechanically.

 

“PERHAPS YOU SHOULD WIKI IT!”

 

Tearing a large chunk of jelly donut with his teeth, the guard continued on, “Whatever it takes, I want to do it. Getting a steak sauce named after me has always been my one goal in life…”

 

Sadly, Thad was destined to never hear the conclusion of that conversation. James led him ahead across the floor, into the other room. The door slammed behind them, cutting off all contact with the outside world.

 

Eaalhi motioned to the throne. “Have a seat, Thad. It's been waiting for you.”

 

Like a trained dolphin, he marched over to the elaborate chair and took his place. Upon immediately placing his weight on the surface, steel shackles shot out around his wrists and ankles. Thad wasn't going anywhere now, not that he had any plans too.

 

Removing a remote from his pocket, the door to the left opened. Pushing through the doorway, was the same wobbly wheeled cart being pushed by the same wobbly legged human, the infamous Ass Renn. Atop the cart was a glass dome. As it passed under the weak single light in the room, the inside was illuminated. The Para Deity Communiqué Apparatus, the magical bicycle helmet itself, was contained within. Or underneath, depending on your point of view.

 

“Hwehh yuh go, Miztah Alley.” Ass mumbled as the cart's movement tapered off to a stop.

 

“Good job, Ashley. Here, enjoy yourself.”

 

Reaching into another one of his apparently abyss-like pockets, the wicked man removed a small brown sack. He tossed it down to the floor, where it landed with a metallic ding. The poor deformed boy's slouching eyes filled with joy. He grabbed the bag, pulled it open, and sunk a hand inside. The twisted little claw came back with a handful of carpet tacks which Ass gleefully shoveled into his mouth. He mumbled happily on the way out of the room, gums chewing and blood running down his chin.

 

Just the two of them again, the calculating bad guy removed the glass case and lifted the Apparatus high above his head, its tale like cable dangling down below.

 

“You may be asking yourself, Thad:”

 

Effortlessly, James put on a pained tone, speaking like a petulant teenager,

 

“Oh, Mr. Eaalhi, why me? Couldn't you have tortured anybody with your slings and arrow of protest? Wouldn't anybody have done?”

 

Stepping forward, holding the silvery dunce cap aloft, its cables dangling about like an elephant's trunk, the madman continued to prattle on.

 

“Don't be silly. It had to be you. Only your brain will work. And that's all you need to know, for now.”

 

He placed the retard cap atop the preverbal retard's head. For all of a half-second, the Apparatus sat there, proudly. That is slouched, sliding down Thad's head, obscuring his eyes, like a two year old in his dad's cowboy bonnet.

 

“Oh poopie.” Eaalhi swore slightly, “I didn't expect your head to loose weight.”

 

He went on, walking around Thad, preening at him like a mother bird, connecting the Apparatus to the chair, flicking switching, activating commands, typing in coordinates. Lights flickered to life all over Thad. So much so that by the time Eaalhi was done with him, he was sparkled like one of those faggoty “Twilight” vampires.

 

Ranting as he went, “Oh well. I suppose that's the risk you take by going with the Modern Vomit Weight Loss Program.”

 

Stepping back, hands to his waist, he observed his handiwork. “Now, it's all ready. Doesn't it make you feel good having some sense of purpose, Thad? You're fulfilling your life purpose.”

 

The villain walked to the door, ready to leave his former opponent behind.

 

Speaking up for the first time in ages, Thad couldn't help but wonder. “Are you telling me that you brought me all this way just to have me sit in a chair?”

 

Peeking his head back into the room, Eaalhi answered the query. “I suppose that's a way of saying it, yes.”

 

He left again, the door slamming tight behind him. Finally alone with his thought, Thad only had one thing to say.

 

“I feel so taken advantage of.”

 

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Before we continue, there are some things you should probably know.

 

The Renn-Tech is broken up into two separate sectors: Positive Sector and Negative Sector. The Positive Sector contains all of the above ground facilities while Negative Sector is composed of the wide-ranging series of underground floors. Each sector is then divided into a series of Sub-Sectors. Each Sub-Sector is made up of several floors. Floors on the Positive Sector are preceded by an addition symbol. Thus, when you walk through the front door of the Renn-Tech building, you have just entered +Floor 1. Naturally, the first level of the Negative Sector is -Floor 1.

 

Positive Sector is designed to drawl as little attention as possible. If you were to pass it on the near by road, it wouldn't be designable from any other of the office buildings in the surrounding area. This is the public face of Renn-Tech, who is just another software publishing house to the majority of people. Thus, all of the business operations in this division are of the legitimate, legal sort. Positive Sector only contains three Sub-Sectors: Corporate, Offices, and Financial. Each sub-sector is about four floors tall. Notable attractions of this area are the typing pool, the prototype design and testing arena, and James Eaalhi's Public Office.

 

The only destinging feature visible from an outside view of Positive Sector are the two large smoke stacks that loom behind the main office building, the Paradox Stacks. These stacks pumped all the anti-logic from the underground labs into the air as a thick smog, transforming those potentially reality tearing glory holes into normal, harmless air pollution. The appearance of a giant, human-sized purple seagull who rides the inner city bus lines and abrasively shouts “HI MY NAME IS HAROLD HOW ARE YOU?” and the sudden explosive popularity of gills in the local youth are presumably unrelated.

 

While Positive Sector might appear rather innocuous, Negative Sector is anything but. It is a huge, underground facility which serve as the basses of operation for all of Renn-Tech's more diabolical businesses and plans. It is thirteen Sub-Sectors deep and penetrates deep within the Earth's crust, to the point where the heat from the molten mantle can be felt in the lowest level. A schematic of Negative Sector breaks down as such:

 

Sector 1: Positive Sector Basement [2 -Floors]

Sector 2: Porno Production Studios [6 -Floors]

Sector 3: Related Production Studios (includes actor's dressing and undressing rooms, hospitals, supplies, and Eaalhi's Second Office.) [3 -Floors]

Sector 4: Porno Post-Production Studios [6 -Floors]

Sector 5: Infernal Machinery Labs (includes the Manipulator) [7 -Floors]
Sector 6: Sinister Financial Offices [6 -Floors]

Sector 7: Paradox Control [6 -Floors]

Sector 8: Porno-Bot Manufacturing [3 -Floors]

Sector 9: Occult Studies [4 -Floors]

Sector 10: Secret Offices [3 -Floors]

Sector 11: Horrible Beasties Holding Zoo [7 -Floors]

Sector 12: The Inner-Most Chamber (Includes the brig, Eaalhi's Private Office, and Thad's current location) [4 -Floors]

Sector 13: The Pit

 

The Negative Sector is so huge and labyrinth that there are parts of it that remain complete mysteries to even James Eaalhi and the other high ranking corporate members. Sector Seven has no windows, doors, to outside entrances. How any body enters or exits it a complete mystery. Descending elevators stops at the top floor of Sector Seven and then reappear at the top of Sector Eight, as if the shaft was uninterrupted. Rooms in Sector Nine are filled floor to ceiling with nothing but books. Doors in Sector Twelve lead to rooms that are completely empty and features, Escher style stairways that lead to nowhere, or just bottomless black voids. The exact purpose of Sector Ten remains unknown. It is simply a series of abandoned offices that have been there since the nineteen thirties, which is longer then the company has even existed.

 

Of particular interest in the final sector and floor, known only as The Pit. This cave like place is actually the exact bottom of an immense asteroid crater. The entire Negative Sector is actually built within the enormous space caused by the piece of space rock plowing into the soft earth million of years ago. It's this downed, embedded meteorite that has proved so important to everything. Flung here from the reaches of deep space, no one has ever dared actually study the stone but it has been obvious to all that it is far from a normal piece of cosmic debris.

 

From the time people lived in California, or the area that would become California, they have avoided the ground that built up over the asteroid's basin. Going back to the days of Indian tribes, bad luck, accidental homicide, unintentional incest, and general weird vibes permeated the place. Settlers who attempted to live on the land were met with nothing but misfortune. For decades, the plot remained untouched.

 

That is until the mid-nineteen sixties when an ambitious businessman named Remus Renn. Like his future cousin, Remus held an intense interest in the occult and moved his burgeoning magazine publishing company Renn-Tech to California with the purpose of building atop the supposed cursed land. Using the funds procure from the success of such popular books as “National Cod Quarterly,” “True Tales of Courageous Canines,” and “Guns! Magazine” (which is different from “Guns Magazine.”), Remus attempted to excavated the crater and recover the asteroid. Sadly, the technology of the time prevented him from ever reaching this goal. As the company passed hands to Remus' children, interest in the Pit dropped and the quest to explore the crater wasn't picked up again until Eaalhi came into ownership in the early nineties.

 

It is in The Pit now, that we joined the action.

 

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An ominous air filled The Pit. As if the air could be anything but in a place called “The Pit.” The subterranean cave design mixed with the thick, humid heat casted an unpleasant atmosphere over the entire area. Odd gases filled the air and left the stench of rotten eggs. Water dripped down from the above structure but evaporated before it could reach the parched dirt floors. The place managed to be dank and dry, hot but chilly. It was arid, dusty, dark, smelly, but still moist. Just like an eighty year old's vagina.

 

The embellishment of the place changed this visage none at all. The room was faintly lit by torches dangling at each corner. Painted on the walls in a red substance that could only be dried virgin's blood were diabolic phrases, like “Ava Satani!” “We raise the dead, we eat the flesh!” and “LOL BUTTSECKS!” Gruesome stalactites grew down from the ceiling, forming into the shapes of huge teeth. A strange blue fog, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, clung to the ground. Small statues of odd, bipedal cephalopod beings stood at various areas around the middle of the cavern. But, more ominous than anything else was the huge asteroid that protruded from the ground at the heart of the cave.

 

At least four feet of stone stuck out of the ground, hinting at the rest of it buried beneath. The surface was smooth and black from the plummet to Earth it made millions of years ago. Green light radiated from within, casting an eerie glow over The Pit. The beams pumped, raising and falling in intensity, as if it was the heartbeat of something sleeping. Something waiting to be awoken.

 

Far off chanting became audible. Entering from different points around the grounded comet came five robed figures. As they came together, they formed a circle around the object that casted off a weird sense of dread. The majority of the robes where plain, grey coverings that hid the faces of their wearers, save for one, the figure standing at the peak of the circle, the obvious leader, who's robe was black and adorn with beads of red. In his hand he held a thick, ancient tome, bound in twisted brown leather of undetermined origin, penned in a dark red ink. The book was almost as frightening as the stone before it, save for the yellow and white emblem stamped on the bottom, which proudly proclaimed “I Got it On eBay!”

 

Each robed figure was of different height. At least three where of average height, including the leader, while two were very short, including the one apparently kneeling next the supposed head man. The fifth man towered over the others, at seven feet or taller, while thick muscles obviously bulged beneath the cloth of his robe. Every worshipper appeared to be male.

 

Soon, the solemn, disturbing chanting continued to build, reaching an apex of spookiness as the deep voice reverberated off the earthy walls.

 

And then Ass farted.

 

Sighing, the lead chanter pulled back his hood, revealing, naturally, none other then James Eaalhi. The shrunken member beside him, Ashley, exposed his pained face, while desperately scratching the itchy skin around his wrist.

 

Eaalhi spoke, “First off, before we get down to business, I'd just like to thank everyone here. Without all of you, we never would have gotten this far.”

 

Stepping forward from the circle, the ends of his tangled beard tied off into neat knots, was Bristol Gneiss.

 

“I have to admit, boss, I'm not exactly sure what we're doing here.”

 

The second short figure snorted, indigent. He pulled back his top, showing himself as midget porn star extraordinaire Bob “The Tripod” Templeton. The throbbing bulge of considerable size near the bottom of his robe further cemented his identity.

 

“I wouldn't expect you to understand it.”

 

Bristol was not amused, “Tripod, I'm your director, not your co-star. So don't try to fuck me.”

 

“Good thing we're not on set then, isn't it, Bristol.” He continued, snide, “What the hell kind of name is that anyway? Sounds like some sort of awful throat cancer.”

 

Gneiss tightened his view, pissed now, “Bob, you better check yourself before you wreck yourself. Especially since I can punt your tiny, misshapen ass halfway across the goddamn room.”

 

The Tripod clenched his minuscule hands into fist of rage, “Motherfucker, that's hate speech!”

 

The knee-high half-pint of fury set out across the circle, his massive package swinging in the air as he ran. Bristol put up his dukes, more then ready to wrestle himself a midget tonight.

 

Just before the director and actor collided into a sideshow spectacle of fisticuffs, the hugest among the group stepped out and put out his huge hairy, black-skinned hands. The actions caused his hood dropped down, revealing him as not quite human but instead a seven-foot tall, four hundred pound, silverback gorilla. Both man and midget where stopped right in their tracks by the might of the furry bipedal.

 

The gorilla opened his mouth, his fangs glistening in the light, before he spoke clearly and with perfect diction in a voice so deep that even the biggest, most gravitas imbued black man would be shaken by its force. It was the kind of voice just calling out for bold print.

 

“We must stop these childish antics! It is counterproductive to our cause!”

 

Eaalhi spoke up, “I agree with Ernesto, the Gorilla Who Speaks like a Man. Honestly, Bristol, Tripod, this isn't grade school. Put away your rivalries long enough for us to complete our goals, which we are so close to now.”

 

Ernesto, returning to his place in the circle, talked again, his voice sounding louder then any other.

 

“Yes, the goal! Soon, we can unleash the fury of our gods on the alternate universe! It's nearness fills me with intense anticipation!”

 

The simian proceeded to then beat his chest, rear his head back, and roar triumphantly. The noise echoed down into the cave's tightest crevices. Everyone there stared at Ernesto, judgmentally, as if he had just cracked a holocaust joke.

 

The primate bowed his head in shame. “Ernesto apologies. Sometime my excitement gets away from me.”

 

“Indeed. Moving on,” Eaalhi moved on, “Does anybody have anything else to say?”

 

The thus-far silent cultist raised his hand. All eyes were directed to him. He pulled back his hood, showing his nondescript face and brown hair. His slightly overweight figure was visible beneath the cloth and, peeking out from the bottom of the robe, were his trademark by-now tattered ducky pajamas. Surely a Clueless Asshole as one that ever existed.

 

“I just want to thank Mr. Eaalhi and all of his Renn-Tech associates here for the great opportunity you've presented me with. I mean, I don't need a lot in my laugh. Just a roof, a well-worn pair of ducky pajams, a life-time supply of instant ramen, and a high-speed internet connection so I can get my WoW on. But when I sighed up for that job position as the resident Clueless Asshole, well, I'll admit, it was just on a whim. I never expected to get the job. I certainly never expected to be teleported around the country and told to spy on some guy named Thad Gunter. Boy, that was exciting! When you implanted that high-tech listening device up my butt, that was exciting too, but in a weird way that makes things stir in my tummy. And when you cut my head open and put latched that weird alien squid thing onto my brain, that was interesting, too. I even didn't mind when James manipulated my fate to be killed over and over again, usually in the most gruesome ways imaginable. That was kind of cool, truth be told, going to heaven and meeting Sherlock Holmes and that “Million Dollar Baby” chick and a bunch of other famous dead folks. And when you brought me back to life just so you could kill me again and again… Well, some people would be offended by that but, you guys, I just thought the whole thing was a trip. I really mean that, a real trip. I guess what I mean is, I just hope I was the best clueless asshole I could possibly be.”

 

The circle stared at him, eyelids heavy, heads lowered, putting up with his aimless rambling. The Clueless Asshole coughed and spit a bit of phlegm onto the floor before he opened his mouth once again.

 

“Hey, that reminds me of this really crazy video I watched on the YouTube the other night…”

 

Ernesto screamed at the Clueless Asshole, “Shut the fuck up before I crush your skull!”

 

The young man clamped up, surprised, slighted, getting a clue for the first time in his life. And to think, all it took to do it was a four hundred pound gorilla.

 

Eaalhi cleared his throat, “Anything else from anybody?”

 

The Tripod his fist and spoke weakly, “Go West Virginia Mountaineers?”

 

The Renn-Tech company head dropped his face into his sweaty palms, “This is, by far, the worse evil cabal ever.”

 

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Thad, his eyes obscured by the sloping helmet, by himself in the sound-proof room, was alone with his thoughts.

 

It was only now that he was absorbing all of that ungainly exposition Eaalhi had laid on his brain. All that stuff about him controlling his fate… Well, who knows. It didn't bother Thad much, even if it did help clear up a few dangling plot threads.

 

No, Thad's thoughts went instead to the horrible, god awful depression he was in. It had been a rough past few weeks for him, to say the least. First, getting caught up in Eaalhi's plan, actually working for Renn-Tech. That was humiliating. Having to wrestle with Silloc's typical insanity was always trying. And to see Rachel, who is really a very innocent person beneath all of that snark-i-ness, pulled into the web of deceit and manipulation, that was upsetting. Being forced to turn a gun on DJ, that wasn't much fun. Sure, he was a sexually deviant lunatic but, killing someone was hardly Thad's idea of a good time.

 

His mind drifted back to the news concerning Rachel. Tried to kill herself, huh? It didn't seem right. Was it possible Eaalhi had lied about the whole thing? It wouldn't be beyond him but, at the same time, what care did he have for human life? No, Rachel probably did indeed try to undo her own existence. But why? It wouldn't surprise Thad to find out she had a great despair inside her. Those that feign cynicism usually do. But actually go so far as to slit her wrists? He would never predict her doing it. Thad always assumed her sense of comical self-respect would hold her back. “Only fat girls and goths kill themselves,” he expect her to say. And yet, there she was, oxygen mask on her face, bandages over her wrists…

 

Then, of course, there was that little minor thing of finding out that the dream girl he had chasing all this time, instead of being forced on a daily basis into Renn-Tech's debauchery, wasn't actually an innocent schoolgirl, but instead a willing participant, who might even, my God, actually enjoy the things she has to do. On top of all that, she didn't even remember him. Arguably the most important person in Thad's life didn't even know he exists. All of that, that was all pretty heavy.

 

Thad knew that his love for Helen was the only thing keeping him going throughout all this. After he lost her, the first time, his life became meaningless. Sure, he postured a normal living for a while, but it was just a charade. Once that fact dawned on him, that was when Thad slipped. That was when the confines of his home became the only thing Thad saw for years. So, of course, his memory of Helen, that precious image refined within his mind, that being assault it what it took to knock him out of his intense stupor.

 

So, now, that sense of honor, of incredible indignation, that need to right what is wrong, the driving force behind his entire quest, now, even that was gone. Eaalhi truly had won. Thad was crushed. He had no reason to go on now. Being just another cog in James' horrible machination, well, at least it was something to do.

 

Thad couldn't tell from under the Apparatus but the room was changing. A glowing light blue fog rose up from the floor and was permeating everything. Swirling clouds of azure air was filling the entire area. The place of Thad's sitting was the most intense point of coverage. As if the fog was actually coming from the chair…

 

---

 

However, the Author did notice. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the computer screen and he couldn't tear his fingers away from the keyboard, but he could certainly feel the moisture clinging to his nude, hair-covered skin.

 

In the corner of his eyes, the Author was aware of the same mysterious blue fog he wrote eking its way into his room, crawling in from under the doors, squeezing in-between the spaces of the board-up windows. That particle-board might keep the world from seeing the Author's nude visage but it didn't do much good in keeping amorphous water molecules out.

 

Disturbed by the border between fiction and reality bumping up against each other as he was, The Author couldn't stop. The deadline was in five days after all! He couldn't stop now, reality tearing paranormal events be damned. He was a professional, after all. Okay, not really. But he still owed that to his fans... All four of them.

 

---

 

The thing that really pissed Thad off about the whole Helen situation, beyond the Obvious Reason, of course, was that he knew Helen was destined for great things. Back in school, he would see her walking down the hall, towards him, and he could sense it. She would be a great model, just based on looks alone. Or an amazing actress, he knew she could muster the chops needed for that. It was easy to imagine her up on stage or on a movie screen. Or, maybe, if she learned to play an instrument, a singer of some sort. Girls with guitars are naturally sexier anyway, and Thad knew Helen could handle that. Greatness, that was her destination.

 

But, instead, here she was, toiling in the pits of the pornography business. He supposed that she was famous, in a way, but never the way Thad intended. Instead of just Helen's dreams being ruined, she had ruined Thad's dreams too. That was selfish, he supposed, but it was how he had felt. At that young age, Helen and his lives became entangled. Her aspirations were his as well. They shared that lost too, wither or not she remembered him.

 

Of course, what were her aspirations, after all? (She wanted to be a school teacher, Thad thought. Yes, that was it.) It had been so long since they parted ways. Thad barely remembered how she sounded, originally. All he could recall was the softest whisper, at times both sinuous and sensitive, what a teenage lover is suppose to sound like. He remembered her face, of course, how could he forget? But who was Helen Rudwalnagirctekahs, really?

 

Everyone has three sides. The Public side, that we put on everyday before we head out the door, the person the world perceives. Then there's the Private us, the person we are among our closest friends and family, when we aren't afraid of being judged or made fun of, the person we really are. But there's one more layer, the Secret you, the one inside your head. The person who knows things nothing else does, every tiny secret and shame, what we see and think, really think, completely unfiltered by lips or computer screens.

 

Thad and Helena knew each other's private selves. Often, many a night would be wasted away just by talking, sharing insights into one another's world view point, walking home on the bridge after school, in the car, and, later, in bed. Perhaps, at the time, no else knew them even half as well as they knew one another. But…

 

He still didn't know the Secret Helen. The everyday thoughts that went through her head, the immediate reactions, the tiny stimuli that brought her to decisions. How could anybody know that side of her? How could anybody know that side of anyone? That's why the initial outcome is always different then your expectations.

 

Even without Renn-Tech and Eaalhi and all that damned horrible business, even without the career in pornography, would Thad had been any less disappointed in his Helen? No matter, she still wouldn't be the person he once knew. The same could be said for him. Thad had changed, that's for sure. He wasn't that precocious high school boy anymore. Helen would be disappointed too. That's what people do in time. That's how these things are.

 

It was the hardest thing to admit. Thad didn't really know Helen. Not now and not even then. Where she was now, that wasn't his fault. He can't judge. Only extraordinary circumstances could bring a person to such a change. What would she say if she found out about what he had been through, some of the things he had been forced to do? How would Helen respond? Would she be taken back and aghast? Horrified at what had become of her once-upon-a-time lover? Or would she shrug it off, because it didn't matter to her anymore? Of course Helen would. Because her life had moved on, she was in a different place now. She might hold a vague sense of fondness for him, maybe, but he no longer mattered to her. Of course she didn't remember him. Why would she? Life goes on.

 

So why hang on? Seconds go by, dying, expiring, seconds we'll never get back. Despite what men say, we actually have very little control over our own fates. James Eaalhi's rambling about manipulator the puppet strings of life made that even clearer. Everyday decision are our's. But the big picture? The total sum? There's not much we can do. No matter what had happen, maybe it was inevitable that Thad and Helen wound up where they are now. So why hold onto the past? Why relish those memories so?

 

Because… Those are what really matter. Forget the future and even the present. The past is where we'll be spending the rest of our lives anyway, right? We are only shaped by our experiences. So what, the new Helen didn't remember him and was scarfing cocks for a living. What did that really matter? He still had his memories, those picture perfect moments, forever burned into his minds. Just like the shitty new remake of a classic movie didn't damage the status of the original, current events could never rob you of your memories. You had them forever. No matter what, Helen, the Helen he remembered, the young girl he loved and cherished and was so important to him, she still existed. Maybe it was just inside his head, but that was enough, maybe even better. Thad could visit her whenever he wanted. He could hold her and have her and be with her whenever he needed her and those memories made him strong. They filled him with the glow of simpler times and the warmth of those close moments.

 

So, let's make a deal, Inside Thad and Outside Thad. You'll keep going, living your life, doing what is needed to meet your own goals. While you do that, I'll keep a watch out on things in here. I'll go through the cerebral halls and keep it tidy, make sure those memories are dusted and clean. And should anything ever happen, should you encounter something that you'll need again later, just pass it along to me. I'll keep `em safe. Okay, deal? Deal. Let's shake on it.

 

Revitalized, Thad found his strength returned. The power of those pleasant memories coursed through his body, filling him up. He sat up, pulling his arms free of the constraints. He raised the Apparatus up and over his head, regaining his vision once again, pulling the helmet of the various cables that held it back. Standing straight, he kicked the ankles restrains off, easy as pie.

 

Thad Gunter stood proud in the center of the room. Now, how about that Eaalhi guy? He's a real douche, isn't he? Let's do something about him, why don't we?

 

---

 

Deep within the Pit, Eaalhi had grown impatient. Clutching the sinister book close to his chest, he cleared his throat and spoke.

 

“Now, that everyone is done, let's begin shall we?”

 

“Yes! Let us awaken our gods and send them over to the alternate dimension!” Ernesto roared with excitement.

 

“Is that what we're here to do?” Bristol Gneiss said, “That sounds like some seriously spooky shit, boss.”

 

Eaalhi sighed heavily, “Just chant, okay? I'll handle the rest.”

 

At his feet, Ass was busy scrounging through the dirt, looking for something sharp to poke himself in the eye with. James patted him softly on the back of the head,

 

“Ashley, at attention, please.”

 

The misshapen poor bastard stood up, groaning in pain.

 

The group of six began to intone sinister ancient verse. They sang out words from some forgotten language, words that hadn't been spoken in hundred of years up until now. The blue fog floated above the ground at their feet. The downed meteorite before them began to glow even hotter, the light within brightening the frigid Pit. Shadowy outlines moved within its rocky shell, stretching and moving for the first time in millennia.

 

Eaalhi separate the pages of his chosen tome. The leathery cover crackled as it fell to the side. He traced his fingers over the pages, over the red print. He spoke the words written there in human blood, the words written by a mad Arab caught in the fever dream projected by eldritch horrors, from the book bound in human skin. It was none other but the accursed Necronomicon itself, the book of the damned.

 

“Great ancient slumbering gods, we, your loyal disciples call out to you! Your time has come again! Awaken from your sleep and regain the world that is rightfully yours!”

 

A wind began to howl through the cave halls, snuffing out the torches and sending chills up the spines of all present. The ground shook while dirt crumbled and fell from the ceiling. Most ominously of all, the asteroid, that damned rock, glowed even brighter and whatever was imprisoned within was becoming very active.

 

Eaalhi went on, repeating each cursed line concisely as it was written on the page.

 

“For too long, we petty humans have control your domain! Time has come to return the reins to your slithery claws! We will watch as you pry your bodies from the dead earth and proceed to feed on the tasty, juicy heads of the fleeing masses. As your willing slaves, we only ask that you eat our heads last!”

 

As if caught up in an earthquake, the cave was now shaking furiously, actively, as if the stone foundation would give at any many and bring the entirety of the Renn-Tech building crashing down on the group of cultists. The nonsensical winds blew harsher, approaching hurricane level speeds and strengths, nearly pulling the robes from the group of preying men.

 

The light from the space boulder was blinding, flooding the previously darken pit with green, unnamable brightness. The thing within bellowed, screaming out above all the other noise, releasing a noise totally unlike anything else ever heard before.

 

And yet, over all of this, Eaalhi's voice was heard. He read on.

 

“We implore, oh great horrible gods of old, we ask of you, rule over us once again! The time has come!”

 

He raised his fist over his head and screamed the remaining verse. As if in response, another unearthly roar filled the ears of all present.

 

“Arise! Arise! ARISE!”

 

Suddenly, like the snap of a whip, everything stopped. The walls stood still, the shaking over. The wind died, leaving the same dead oxygen floating the air that was there before. The light faded away, quickly as the flick of a switch.

 

Still, the excitement was there. Eaalhi's fist remained raised. An anticipation hang in the hearts of everyone there. Even Ass was captivated. On one seemed to catch on to the fact that they were all standing around in the dark like a bunch of dorks.

 

That is, until, “Is something going to happen?” The Clueless Asshole gave a sign of perhaps having a clue.

 

The answer to that query came immediately. The pin dropped in the empty room. A clear distinct sound drew everyone's attention.

 

Rock cracked. The surface of the asteroid schism-ed. As if an eggshell, a ridged fracture appeared vertically across the stone skin. All eyes were on it. Green something-or-other oozed passed the opening, spilling onto the dirt floor.

 

Exploding forth from the rocky prison, a scaly, glossy tentacle reached out into the air, forcefully. Startled, the majority of the group stepped back. Save for Eaalhi. He instead smiled, finally vindicated.

 

The tentacle writhed, reached out, and began to expand. Ivory white spikes extended out from the slimy deep-sea green skin. Digging into the soft ground, the thing pulled itself from the containment vessel it habituated for the better part of a million-some years. Throwing off the dusty remains, the Elder Thing revealed itself.

 

Expanding, growing ever larger, the six stood in awe of the monster. Numerous squid-y appendages reached out, some at tree-trunk width, others as spindly as an earthworm. There were almost uncountable all together, with one or several pure white fangs topping many. The round, bulbous body pulsated, stretching out longer and taller. Copious crocodilian eyelids parted and urine yellow eyes swirled around, observing the surroundings. Transparent fins pulled apart from the deep green skin and flapped, stretching muscles unused for millennia. Slits unlocked, showing maws of unorganized, gnashing, greasy teeth, alien drool pouring from them. Many a mouth became apparent as the being cried out once again, bawling uproariously, shaking the pit walls once again.

 

Five among them were transfixed. Eaalhi, instead turned his attention else. Cheshire Cat grin all the while, he reached into his robe and removed a high-powered cell phone. Dialing the correct number, he pushed the receiver to his ear-to-ear smile.

 

---

 

The security guard stared into the eyes of his lover. Softly, he reached up and caressed the cold, metallic cheek of his beloved. His rough human skin felt somehow wrong against the smoothness of that machine appearance. Odd, when that togetherness felt so right just a few minutes ago.

 

The two parted. Duncan reached over and placed his toupee back atop his bald head. Perry, the Porno-Bot, meanwhile, reclined, retrieved a cigarette from one of his many hidden alcoves. Gripping it somehow in dildo-like hands, he raised the now lit tube to his face grill.

 

“WANT ONE?”

 

“You know I quit.” Duncan remorsefully answered.

 

“OH YEAH. MY BAD.”

 

Perry was always so nonchalant afterwards. When there were so many issues on Duncan's mind, his lover just dismissed everything with an off-hand comment.

 

“You know,” he leaned in closer to the hot hunk of winding machinery. (You know, but not literally hot.) “We can never be together. Not really.”

 

The robot turned his head to face the pudgy human, “YEAH, PROBABLY.”

 

Flustered, Duncan shot back. “Why do you always have to be so cavalier? This is important to me.”

 

Perry looked away, “OH EXCUSE ME. GOD YOU'RE SUCH A GIRL.”

 

Sad, the man adverted his eyes and whispered, “Only on the inside.”

 

Breaking up the flow of the odd, homophobic scene was the ring of Duncan's Jefferson Starship ringtone. Groaning, he reached over and picked up the device. Flicking back the cover, he answered. Dang, he was hoping to continue this conversation.

 

“Duncan Flop, Sector Twelve speaking.”

 

Eaalhi's coldly commanding voice spoke from the other side.

 

“Duncan, is Thad and the Apparatus working correctly? Is the portal ready to open?”

 

Slightly confused by the statement, the guard stood up, grabbing his slightly dazed head. He tugged his pants back on before looking to the window.

 

All he saw was an empty chair and an equally empty room. The only sign that Thad was there at all were a few remain wafts of blue fog, most of which had dissipated away.

 

Still caught up in the post-coital afterglow, Duncan responded, “Um, Thad's gone.”

 

---

 

Eaalhi's eyebrows rose. His hand shook ever so slightly. The phone fell from his palm and clattered to the ground. Only one response could sum up his varied feelings.

 

“Oh shit.”

 

His eyes went up to the Elder Thing. It had quadrupled in size and the top of its cephalopod head brushed against the cave ceiling. It too seemed to search the room, its multiple limbs whipping around, its multiple eyes exploring every angle, getting a grip on the surroundings.

 

James first made sure the others were still focused on the monster. Grabbing up Ass, who had somehow managed to carve the Van Halan symbol into his forehead, Eaalhi set out on his second course of action: He ran like hell.

 

His feet carried him quickly over the dusty ground, past the point where the brown earth ended and was replaced by hard steel plates. Eaalhi quickly ran up the metal platform and passed the doorway. Dramatically, he smashed down on the large red button. Slamming down in front of him was a series of seven huge, solid steel panic doors.

 

So enraptured by the flailing creature was the group that they failed to notice their leader's speedy exit. Save for…

 

“Hey, where's that guy going?” The Clueless Asshole turned around and pointed.

 

The other members, however reluctantly, pulled their gaze away from the coleoidean demi-god just long enough to notice that, yes indeed, Eaalhi had flown the coop.

 

Before anyone could comment on the absence of their chief, a couple of notable things happened. And then a couple more things happened.

 

The hideous Elder Thing, presumably disappointed about no longer being the center of attention, focused all of its eyes on one exact location. And then, lightening fast, whipped a single tentacle towards that location.

 

“You know, our boss running away like that reminds me of a funny story…” Before the Clueless Asshole could continue that ramble, his speechifying came to an abrupt stop.

 

He hacked, coughed, while blood trickled down his double chin. Soon, the chubby young man was lifted high into the air, a writhing, twisting tentacle impaled into his asshole. He grabbed his sickly grumbling belly in pain, while more and more plasma leaked from his gapping oral cavity.

 

Gasping for breath, gurgling on his own life fluid, the Asshole spoke out one final statement.

 

“'Mystery Men' is one of the most underrated comedies of the nineteen-nineties!”

 

And with that, the other end of the horror's slimy limb exploded from his mouth, spending teeth and sticky red corn syrup flying through the air. The tip of the tentacle swayed back and forth, protruding obscenely from the Asshole's body. The others watched on, stunned into silence and stillness.

 

The greasy feeler lashed forth, viciously, cutting into the ground, freeing the oblivious nincompoop of its grasp. By splitting the inexperienced buffoon's body into two halves, right down the middle. Both parts of ducky pajama clad fool fell the great length to the ground, his insides spilling out, raining gruesome viscera onto the remaining, living, hosts.

 

Bristol Gneiss yelled out, “That's it! Fuck this shit!”

 

The director dashed off. The midget porn star screamed like the kind of tiny schoolgirl he was use to violating before following Bristol's lead. Even the brave and strong Ernesto turned tail and skedaddled.

 

The Elder Thing responded, shooting tentacles out in all different directions, reaching out for any possible lead. It found some.

 

While Gneiss ran, a turning olive extremity found his ankles and coiled around them, tightly and quickly. Caught, he plummeted to the ground, “Oof”-ing loudly upon impact, kicking up dirt and grime.

 

Eyeing his beard, lying in the dirt, he could only think one thing. “Aw, man, I just cleaned that thing yesterday.”

 

Proving that even extraterrestrial squid monsters of higher orders had an understanding of irony, the Elder Thing reached around and grabbed Bristol by his abundant chin whiskers. Both ends of the man gripped tightly, the creature then pulled.

 

A wet snap sounded throughout the rocky abode. Bristol's head, goofy beard and all, flew across the cave's distance, bouncing against the giant steel door like some sort of macabre beach ball. His lower half, the waist and down, was flung in the opposite direction, guts trailing behind him, flag-like. His upper chest remained in the mud, arms bending mindlessly, strawberry jam like substances squirting from both dismembered edges.

 

Simultaneously, the Tripod raced for the cave mouth. His small baby feet carried him quickly, and yet he advance little. For he had to take long, wide steps, for fear of stepping on his enormous, perpetually engorged member. (Which, as any well-hung little man can tell you, hurts a great deal.)

 

He stumbled, nearly trampling his third leg, before catching himself awkwardly, bracing himself against the cave wall. Shaking a miniscule fist, he swore.

 

“Curse my immense girth!”

 

Behind his back, a tentacle raised up, its point pulling apart, blooming like a flower, spewing forth a number of even thinner, tinier fleshy vines. Slithering across the ground, creeping up behind him, the attachments snuck up the adult entertainer's robe. The intrusion didn't go unnoticed long.

 

Screaming, “It's got my dick! IT'S GOT MY DICK!”

 

Putting his hands out, Bob saw an even more horrifying sight. Moving just beneath his skin, twisting, living, bumps of matter, squirming worm-like inside his body. Another blood curdling wail rose from his lungs.

 

All of that ended soon. Just as quickly as they had embedded themselves, the tentacles yanked back violently. Suddenly, The Tripod found himself completely without skin. Flayed alive, oozing fluid, he fell to the ground, shaking severely, overwhelmed by the excruciating pain.

 

The eldritch horror held the midget's torn hide up to one of it's many eyes, letting it dangle like a suit on a clothesline, before stuffing it into his jaws, hungrily.

 

Near the front of the cave, heavy hairy hands pounded against the large steel doors. Ernesto, last ape standing, screamed at the top of his huge gorilla lungs.

 

“Eaalhi, you rat bastard! You left us here to die!”

 

The many propping grabbers, upon hearing this impotent outrage, redirected themselves to the cave door, rocketing towards the monkey-man.

 

Turning to face his oppressor, Ernesto hoisted his great simian fists. He released a furious war cry before charging forward. He swung his baby-head sized hands around, slamming into each incoming tentacle. The reachers recoiled after each blow, falling to the ground, deflated. Ernesto jumped, making use of his natural stamina, delivering a devastating backhand to another slimy paw. Falling towards the ground, both fists held together into a powerful bomber, he brought the rage down on another series of crawlers, crushing them. A clear, strong smelling fluid eked from the smashed limbs, which slithered back to their source, defeated.

 

“Ha, so you can bleed!” Ernesto punctuated each word with another overwhelming blow to another slashing squid-y arm, “Which means you can die! Prepare to fall beneath the strength of Ernesto!”

 

He laughed a mighty laugh while delaying another attacker with an impressive spinning clothesline. Obviously, no self-respecting Lovecraftian Elder Thing was going to take this kind of abuse lying down.

 

Digging its hooks into the ground, the monster pulled itself over the ground with astonishing speed. Its dangerous extremities spinning about, the creature revealed its main mouth, a spinning cyclone of rows and rows of gnashing fangs. The gorilla prepared himself for the charge.

 

The fiendish thing smashed into the prepared simian. He held his place, his feet being forced into the ground by the impact. His hands pushed back against the snapping jaw and the running drool. Forming some sort of bizarre tug-of-war, between super-intelligent gorilla and ancient tentacled horror, each forced against the other, neither making much progress. Ernesto flexed, forced his muscles, his tendons moving beneath his dark flesh. The Elder Thing forced back, unstopping, its strength limitless.

 

Something broke, tear, split apart. Ernesto's arm burst, his muscles exploding out of his skin, like a spent sausage casing. His arms withered and fell limp, empty, useless. The Elder Thing descended on him, ruthless, falling upon him, bottom mouth wide open. Its teeth surrounded him like a cage before they began to spin. Ernesto's body was quickly chipped away by each cut and gash, quickly pureed into a meaty red milkshake of ape death. The Elder Thing gulped, sucked the mixture into its deep gullet.

 

The monstrosity slowed. Its eyeballs darted back and forth, its tentacles fell to the ground and spread around the room. It had killed all that there was to kill. But it could fell life, above it, around it, near-by. Equipped with a basic, insect intellect, it turned to the door. Its boughs squeezed into the notches and nooks of each door, looking for locks and keys, looking for a way out.

 

---

 

Goddamn it, was all Eaalhi could think. Goddamn it. The winding of the elevator and Ass' near-by heavy breathing didn't seem to vindicate his anger. He was so close, so fucking close. He had finally awoken that damn Elder Thing, that little piss ant of a demi-god. Minor as it might be, if he had teleported it to the other side, if he had unleashed its nothing fury on that world, it would spread the Old One's reached into that precious realm. As beneath them as humans might be, Eaalhi knew that was enough. He get a tiny silver of their ability and with it, all the power he desired. With that, he could rule over not just this universe, but all of the universes, every corner and crack in existence, would be his to own.

 

But Thad. He had put up with all of his bullshit, he had that slippery motherfucker right where he wanted him, even got him to do what he needed to do. But, at the last second, he pulled through. James had crushed his spirits over and over and over again, and YET… It was never enough. Somehow, some way, that squirmy little son of a bitch pulled it out of the bag. At any time, James could just have snapped his fingers and ordered Thad's testes roasted up, but he was always needed for the plan, for the bigger picture. Out of everything, let it never be said that James Trevor Eaalhi couldn't see the big picture. No matter how aggravating that maggot might be, Thad couldn't be squished beneath his shoe.

 

Well… No more of that. The plan was all fucked to hell and back. There was a vicious little Elder Thing down there, ready to eat the heads of Eaalhi and anybody else that got in his way. It was here in this world and not in the next, where it should be. The quest was over, crushed, unsalvageable. But Mr. Gunter couldn't rob James of at least one satisfaction.

 

He smiled, ear to ear, overjoyed. Finally, he could pull that thorn from his side. Pull it from his side and drop it in a wood chipper. That game was fucking over. It was time for Thad Gunter to die.

 

The chance to end that miserable, pathetic little thing's life… Well, it almost made all the frustration, pain, blood, sweat, and tears, everything, it almost made it all worth while.

 

Yes, that was plenty reason to smile.

 

---

 

Thad's feet clicked against the Negative Sector's floors, rapidly, repeatedly. He ran as quickly as possible, feeling only too strongly the bad juju floating around this place. But he couldn't just hightail it out of there, not like that would be an easy thing to do in and of itself, there were still things that needed to be done.

 

Escaping from Eaalhi's tiny room wasn't as hard as you'd think. The cufflinks on the chair weren't difficult to pull out of and the door to the outside wasn't even locked. It's as if James just expected Thad to sit down and take it. As for the security guard and the Porno-Bot… Well, they were distracted.

 

Thad shuffled two things between his hands as he ran. The first was the Para-Deity Communiqué Apparatus, simply because it seemed so important to the big man and Thad figured he should probably keep his hands on it. The second object was a simple manila folder that he swiped from one of the filing cabinets while the man and the robot where busy doing the sort of awful thing Thad should be use to seeing by now.

 

He decided the time had come to explore that folder. Stopping briefly to rest against the wall, he pulled back the cover and found three distinct set of pages. The first was a map of the Renn-Tech building. Hmm, better hold on to that, it'll come in handy. The second was a complex paper that, a brief glance revealed, discussed the specifics of interdimensional travel. The techno and science babble there was a bit too thick for Thad to decipher.

 

The third set was a roughly bound set of notebook pages. They were slightly discolored, evidence of age, and filled with small, concise, graphite letters. The dates listed throughout was the final clue-in Thad needed. These were journal pages.

 

He shifted through them quickly, before one page caught his attention. He started to read out loud to himself, in a low mumble.

 

“February 21st, 1988. The entire lynchpin of my plan relies on three basic facts: First off, HP Lovecraft's pantheon of space and earth bound elder gods is all too real.”

 

Thad rolled his eyes, none too surprised by this revelation. He pretty much took it for granted that that was the case for many years now. After all, he shared three of his many middle names with the Providence scribe of weird fiction.

 

Continuing on down the page, Thad took in more information, speaking up. This time he found himself pausing.

 

“Secondly, the universe we exist in, what we commonly refer to as “Reality,” is, in fact, fictional. The world we exist in, all of its facets, all of its people, everything, are actually the creation of a demented teenage author. (Personally, I find that this explains a lot.)”

 

Okay, that was heavy. Thad had also suspected it and, perhaps, somewhere deep down, indeed, knew it to be true. But to actually have someone to come out and state it as a legitimate, undeniable truth of the universe? That was a little startling.

 

And yet, he couldn't stop reading. What was the third fact? He went on, speaking at conversational levels now.

 

“Finally, the third fact is that documentary filmmaker Thad Gunter shares a deep connection with The Author. He is the “protagonist” of this world. Manipulating Gunter to my steps is key.

 

These three ideas form the foundation of my scheme to rule over everything in creation.”

 

Thad was dizzy. He dropped the file and the helmet. His knees shook. His vision grew blurry. Everything, weirdly, made sense now. Still, that didn't stop him from wanting to faint.

 

An explosion rang out and shook the foundation of the room. An unearthly bellow followed. Thad startled up right. Gathering the file and the Apparatus, he started to run again. Now was obviously not the time for passing out.

 

TO BE CONTINUED!!!