Mannequin Mayhem: Darkest end, #2

By Steven Bazydlo

It has been two years since the flash. The world's chaos has teetered out, and the new hell we live in has become the norm. Factions have formed, and a new fight is about to begin. Who wins comes down to who is willing to sacrifice the most for those they love or what they desire most.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Bazydlo
• Release date: Apr 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224408818

Book preview

Credits

Editing- Tasha Schiedel

Cover art- Matt Seff Barnes

Part: One

The Master

Ican't believe I’m stuck like this. This clanky body is not what I had in mind, but the soul I was able to procure for my... personal use, appears to be a little... unagreeable. I will have to change what incantation I use in the future to not have such rebellious slaves.

I’ve informed Lilith of the new inscriptions to use. Of the original collection, she always seemed to have more skills than the others. I swear she even seems to speak to them sometimes, but I know that can't be possible. As grotesque her figure may be, she did have an odd nurturing presence that emanated from her that calmed the others. Almost as if she loved every one of the new members like her own child. It was a confusing concept. However, who was I to judge how a demon acted when placed into a corporeal form?

It was wonderful watching her work on the new members of the family. Yes the pain they endured must have felt like it lasted an eternity. However, that temporary discomfort would bring them the safety they so desperately wanted in this hellish world. Yes, the old me would have had no concern with forcing these sacks of meat into servitude, but the adage  ‘You attract more flies with honey than you do with vinegar’ circulated itself in my head for an uncomfortably long time before I felt the change needed to be made. Sure the first few weren't as... voluntary, but they served and continue to serve their purpose quite successfully.

The great flash, as some of the survivors called it. It's been a few years since then. The people of the world have been decimated by what they call the spreaders, the gray swarm, or just simply Them. There were so many names they used, but they all wanted something that was in short supply. They wanted some place safe. Something I just so happen to be in a position to offer. The details of that offer though, were never truly disclosed or cared about by the desperate.

It started off small and I knew that people clearly would not find my little family... approachable. So I took steps. I had to wait for a long time for someone desperate to show up. I had the collective go out as far as they could and find as many blanks as possible. What use would bringing in others do, if I had no place to house them? It took some time, but one of our scouting parties just the other day discovered an old adult doll manufacturing factory. I saw the potential use of the new blanks currently going to waste on their racks and how a more articulated army might have its benefits.

Hunting down our first few volunteers in the beginning was not as simple as I had hoped. We spent a month in surrounding areas setting up signs in windows with directions. It wasn't the most high tech, but when that psycho stole my bones, I only had so many options. Even electricity was a hard resource to come by nowadays, with batteries becoming a scarce commodity as well. Being caught alone in the dark in this new world is a death sentence.

I look around this dungeon of a bunker, seeing the next beings that will be able to survive this harsh reality and I will bring peace to this Hell by my own hand.

Leaving Lilith to her work, I began to wander the halls of the old factory. The plastic and silicone bodies hung or were attached in various points of production. Atlas and Jack have been hard at work bringing in all the parts needed to build up a power source so that we can begin a more mass production line. I have been researching how to possibly do a more enmasse transfiguration, that would bolster our numbers and make fighting off the other inhabitants a lot easier.

In the past two years since the flash, there have been several attempts to reclaim the world by the survivors, but it always ends the same. They gathered in large numbers. At first there were many, still millions of people, in the first few months. Militaries around the world were able to fight for a while, but within a month, they became more and more displaced as the hoard took over. Now there is no telling how many or how few there are left. By the time I initiated my plans and fixed my body, the radio stations and all the different information gathering there had all but ceased. We would get the occasional broadcast now and then and we would send out a few of the drones to investigate. However, the numbers that they would bring in were usually less than stellar.

Ever since the battle at the TV station, the core family appears to have been undergoing more personal modifications that have been making them more efficient in their work, but I don't remember ever teaching them to do that. I wonder if maybe they know more than what I was led to believe from the book. I’ll have to keep a close eye on those that might rise above the others for possibly new generals. They’ll be needed once the generators are up and running.

As I walked up the dingy stairwell, I passed by one of the more recent conscripts. The stiff motions had shown they were still adjusting and hadn’t cracked their joints yet. The body was that of a thin fashion mannequin. One where they may have well just made it out of sticks, but chose thin chromed plastic instead. The hands were also oddly long in their proportions, like a spider's legs, and they used that to better reach into crevices. The others who have broken themselves are now using those extended appendages in the rebuilding process to snake wires and retrieve dropped items in walls and cracks.

As I stepped around them, they turned to face me and I could hear the grind of the plastic and the way the neck was positioned. It left her head cocked slightly to the side like a confused animal. Her eyes had been burned out at some point in the last few years. Probably from some gang that had formed and someone wanting to look tough with a blowtorch. The holes that decorated the feminine frame made me think, one of the gifted salvaged the body from a gun range. She turned back to the chore it was assigned and I continued up the stairwell towards an open door.

As the sun caressed my ever-sliding skin, I felt the warmth and tried to remember the good things. It hasn't been all bad; since we implemented the new recruitment plans. We have been able to increase our collective and we now have enough to do tests on. Some are a little more crazy than the others, but it has been quite a lot of fun.

I stepped into a small courtyard filled with shipping containers, I could hear them all rocking and moving from impacts. The dented and torn open ones allowed for increased visibility of the enclosed occupants whom Atlas has either had to discipline or dispose of. They seemed to calm down after a round or two. I can't say I blame them, the demons that possess them didn't come as willingly as the others from the rituals and it did leave them a little aggressive.

Continuing my walk I found myself by one of the storage bays. Inside I could see a handful of the more agreeable gifted in their training. It was like watching a ballet. The formidable fighters that they were, they’d had their limbs removed and replaced with a number of weapons. The sight of the springs compressing in their legs and then releasing all the built up tension to rocket them into the air or onto high up obstacles was fun to watch. They were special to me, so I gave them each a porcelain face. When each dedicated themselves to me, they would smash it and allow the tendon-like muscles to drip down and attach to each of the razor sharp pieces to reform into a solid face. Interacting with them though was strange, as they were some of the few that could show some kind of emotion by moving the shattered plates.

Those that have seen combat against the wanderers and were damaged have done the same with the rest of their bodies. Some of the more adept veterans could explode their whole bodies into a tornado of death. Watching them fight was like seeing a semi-sentient blender going through a petstore. I didn't have many, but boy was it a quality-over-quantity deal with them, and I couldn't be happier.

My thoughts back when this all started was that I could get by with my little family unit. However, with the rise of the other factions in this new world, I need more soldiers . I have to say, the necessity for such soldiers and experimentation is going to be needed to kill the others off. We are strong against the fungus and hoard, but the good Doctor and his flesh cult, along with the nomadic militia of survivors, have been a consistent thorn in my side.

The militia has been working its way back in this direction and I do not know why. The last time they came, they were defeated by the fungus. Their spores and unusual way to spread, caused massive casualties. The humans’ bodies became like statues, and where they fought is now a barren wasteland to the mushroom. The only remains from that battle is a field of the tortured dead, forever frozen in place, never to move again. Destined to fade from history.

The guards up ahead began to open the gates, the small team of scouts returned and they appeared to have brought fresh recruits with them. More than usual this time, I murmured, as I watched one of the disciples carry a wounded woman.

I walked up to the one that could sign out a report. As the fingers of the signer moved, one of