Arc II, Chapter 63: The Peeping Tom

Arc II, Chapter 63: The Peeping Tom

Carousel definitely had a sense of humor. I could appreciate that, but in the end, the joke was always on us.

My feet were wet. I must have left a puddle on the floor from some shower I had hypothetically taken earlier. The water had spread like long, thin fingers as it dribbled across the bathroom floor.

I tried to avoid the little puddles of water as I walked across the room.

The mirror was cleaner than I remembered. There had been little spots of toothpaste from where I had brushed my teeth earlier, and the springy bristles launched spittle all around. Carousel had cleaned that off. Did that mean an NPC had come in here expressly to wipe it down, or did Carousel actually use its vast magical powers for that one?

On either side of the mirror were windows. Beyond them were darkness and shifting shadows from the forest. The phone was resting on the countertop next to the sink. Kimberly was still on the other line in case I needed her insights.

I turned on the water and splashed it on my face. I tried to keep my eyes on the mirror as much as I could without looking like Patrick Bateman. Deep breaths. In and out.

I wished the enemy would just appear soon. The waiting was killing me. To be fair, he might also kill me.

I had to play my part. I was shaving in the middle of the night. How was I supposed to act that out? I was a hotshot director now. How would I tell an actor to do it?

Step One: Feel the scraggly hairs on your face.

Step Two: Look in the mirror. Look at the left side of your face, right side of your face.

Step Three: Shake your head; its no good. This hair has to go.

Step Four: Shave.

It felt like something right out of a commercial.

The shaving cream was some kind of designer brand. I didnt even know there was fancy shaving cream, but as I lathered the cream in the canister against its metal lid with the little brush that was next to it, I found myself with a plethora of perfumed wisps that I painted my silly little goatee with.

And then it was time to cut it off.

The silver razor was high-quality and expensive-looking, but it was also deadly sharp. I had never used a long razor before. I always bought those little plastic shavers from the store. Even in Carousel, I used the cheap options out of habit.

I opened the blade. I swore I could hear ringing in the air, like the sound swords make in samurai movies.

As I studied the blade, I saw him in the corner of my eye, standing at the edge of the forest. My hands were shaking.

Him. The man of the hour. The undead, hulking figure straight out of a nightmare.

He was tall. I knew that from the POV cam, but even from up on the second story, he looked giant next to a little ornamental tree that was in my characters backyard.

It was like how Ramona had described. He was covered in twisted, rusted metal. Of course, it wasnt enough to hinder his movement, but it singed the clothing he wore and gave him the look of a man who had just survived a nuclear meltdown.

Except he surely was not alive. Part of his face had melted away. Even by the moonlight, it was gruesome. I could see his metal-covered teeth through a hole where his cheek used to be.

When did he get the metal augmentations? Was it from when the Geist Factory burned down around him? Or had he gotten this from the supposed accident that took his life?

It didnt matter. I looked at his tropes on the red wallpaper.

Gale Zaragoza

is

The Die Cast (Spirit of Vengeance)

Plot Armor: 32

__________

Tropes

Quick Between Sets

When moving Off-Screen from one shooting location to the next, this enemys Hustle will double.

No Neighborhood Watch

The villain will not be seen by NPC witnesses when off-screen

Anyone Can Die

This enemy operates under a chilling rule: no character is safe. Whether it's because this film is a rule-breaking reboot or a narrative without a true protagonist, this enemy can target or kill any character without ceremony or hesitation.

Checking it Twice

This enemy has a set of tasks they must accomplish. They will be buffed in all relevant stats when trying to complete them.

Self-Sharpener

Stolen story; please report.

Riley? Ramona called from downstairs.

Are you okay? I asked promptly.

I walked over to the staircase and peered down it.

She was crying.

I just There was this feeling that I cant describe, she said. I remember that feeling. Maybe it was a nightmare

I walked down the stairs.

No, I said. The Die Cast was outside earlier. You felt its aura.

It was here? she asked.

Yes, I said. Its gone now. You okay?

She nodded.

I didnt know how much comforting was normal. I decided to go to the kitchen instead. I had stolen an entire sub sandwich from Craft Services. It was one of those multiple-foot-long sandwiches. I had been eating on it for days.

When I opened the fridge, it was gone.

The time skip. I hadnt been around for a week because Carlyle Geist was on vacation. The sandwich was gone and replaced by a rotisserie chicken on a plate with aluminum foil over it.

I hadnt put it there.

While I pondered if it was safe to eat, I noticed that Ramona was still standing by.

You okay? I asked again.

She nodded.

Something you want to talk about?

She hesitated for a moment.

Why am I doing this? she asked. I thought I was saving Phoebe, but what do we do after? If Carousel is what you say, why bother? If this place is really hell, how is death worse?

Those were the types of thoughts I like to push out of my head.

I needed her to keep her head straight. The fact was I had been plagued by similar questions for months. Anna and Camden had been killed, but they hadnt been attacked by ghosts or mutated frogs. They hadnt been subjected to the uncomfortable strangeness of an awakened Carousel that made the off-putting ambiance of Camp Dyer look cheery. They could be done.

Why rescue anyone if it only means more of this?

I dont know, I said. I guess I have to believe that there is something after. Something worth being alive for. You want your sister around for that, dont you?

She didnt answer at first.

I think I want to save her because its my fault she died. She wanted to leave Lillian Geist and escape. If I hadnt forced her to stay I dont know where she would be.

Silas Dyrkon had explained to her how they hadnt planned to kill her sister when making the Throughline or whatever.

You can take anything that man told you and throw it out, I said. The only reason he would tell you that is to manipulate you. If you feel guilty, he can trick you into helping him. Its that simple.

I think it was my fault, too, she said. It doesnt matter what he said. I was there. Everyone else who ran lived.

I didnt even know if her sister was really dead. From the sound of her story, her sister could very well have been an NPC. For all I knew, Phoebe Mercer had been the NPC who wiped the spittle off my mirror so it would be clean for my scene earlier. How could I say that to Ramona, though? She had not fully pieced together that Phoebe was likely connected to the script or understood the implications of it.

Im sorry. I can understand how you want to save her. I guess what you can tell yourself is that its her choice of whether to be a part of this world. You cant choose for her. Give her the chance to live, and then let her decide whether its worth it.

She had transferred to a little chair in a nook near the dining room while we talked. I followed her, leaving the rotisserie chicken behind.

It started to rain. We sat and watched the drops flow over the giant windows of the dumb modernist house my character called home.

I know your friends are dead, she said. Why do you want to rescue them?

Theyre my oldest friends, I said. For a long time, my only friends. I was never good at talking about it.

Is it your fault they died? she asked. Wait, Im sorry. That didnt come out how I meant for it to.

I didnt mind her asking. It was clearly a subject she had been thinking about for a long time.

Not them, no, I said.

I laid down on a long bench that was like a Victorian fainting couch but way too long.

We talked for hours until we fell asleep. The needle on the Plot Cycle ticked so close to First Blood that I expected someone to die any minute, but when I woke up the next morning, it still hadnt come.