Chapter Text
"Take a look at Blade over there. He never tires, never hungers, knows no fear, tells no lies, feels no pain, has no secrets. And what is man except a being at war with himself? But not Blade. He has no hidden motives, no secret self. He's purely and perfectly what he is."
--
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
If Blade could have frowned, he would have. As it was, his white face kept its usual skull's grin, bullet eyes fixed on the. . . the thing that was supposed to be perfection. The ultimate puppet.
Blade had been fooled. They all had, all the puppets along with the man who could have been the next Puppet Master. All that talent, all that skill. . . wasted. It made Blade sick. The puppets knew what Robert was-- well, had been-- capable of; Pinhead, with his new joints, knew better than anyone else. But McGrew was destroying their whispered hope that they had found their new Master.
As Blade watched, green tendrils of electricity arced from the Robert's body to the thing he had carved. Blade had thought it would be a humanoid puppet like himself and the others, but no. It was a machine, tank-like, proving that McGrew thought no more of the would-be Puppet Master than those who called him by that repulsive nickname. The new puppet didn't even have a face, just a flat screen which now showed emotionless human features.
A soft moan caught Blade's attention, and he turned to his companions, who were watching as well. Six-Shooter and Tunneler, like Blade, could show no expression, but Leech Woman's pretty face was sad as she looked up at Tank. Was whatever remained of Ilsa Toulon sorrowful at the thwarted love?
And then. . . there was Jester. His head had spun to its horrified face, his painted blue eyes wide. He turned to look at Blade, one carved hand over his open mouth. Blade had to look away.
And that man, McGrew, was laughing. Laughing. He who dared to think that he could have been the next Puppet Master. He put human souls into puppets as Toulon had, true-- but oh, for such different reasons. Blade could sense his companions' outrage at what had been done, but Pinhead was the most horrified. Blade knew that his large friend loved Jane McGrew as much as he had loved Toulon, and that Jane's pain at finding what her father had done to Robert would break Pinhead's heart.
But it wasn't sorrow Blade felt; it was fury. McGrew had taken from Robert and his own daughter the one thing the puppets were forever denied: physical love. Now, the two young ones could never touch or kiss, even if Tank could still feel any of Robert's love for Jane. Worst of all, McGrew had done it knowingly, had sent his daughter away so that he could betray her.
Blade looked at Jester again. The small puppet's face was now sad, with that heart-breaking frown that had so touched Toulon. Toulon had loved Jester more than any of the other puppets.
And so did Blade.
He turned on McGrew, the points in his eyes shifting forward until they glinted in the green light emanating from Tank's screen. He raised his knife and hook and stared up at the man who looked back down with growing horror on his face.
"No--" McGrew murmured, but Blade didn't even hear him. The other puppets, feeling Blade's anger, looked at their leader with some surprise, but they didn't protest. Six-Shooter drew his guns, and his little bandana rose to cover his mouth. Pinhead cracked his knuckles, and Tunneler's drill spun to life. As Blade moved forward, Leech Woman came behind him, her sweet mouth opening obscenely and a leech beginning to slip between her lips like a huge tongue.
Blade slashed into McGrew's leg, felling the man, then he led the advance with his companions closing in behind. Blade let his rage consume him completely, and he leapt for McGrew's head, ignoring the old man's cries as he began to lash his blade back and forth. Blade wished he could scream with every lunge: Don't you know what you've done? Don't you know what died?
Blood splattered Blade's usually immaculate coat, soaked into his silvery hair, and splashed across his white face. He didn't even notice. Leech Woman was covering the man's exposed flesh with leeches as Six-Shooter fired tiny bullets into his legs. Tunneler plunged his head into McGrew's side, and Jester pricked him with his own tiny knife. Then, finally, Pinhead's large hands found a metal bar and he brought it down over McGrew's skull, rendering him unconscious.
The puppets backed away, observing their work. And yet, what good did it really do? Tank was still there, the features on his monitor still impassive. The puppets looked at one another, and Pinhead awkwardly picked up a piece of rag and began wiping the blood from Tunneler's drill. Six-Shooter shrugged all six shoulders and said "hehhh hehhh" a little sheepishly. Leech Woman tried to smooth down her hair.
Blade stood apart from them all, staring at the unconscious man. Then he felt a touch on his arm and turned to see Jester looking up at him, still with his sad face. Blade looked back helplessly. For the first time he could remember, he had let emotion take control of him, and it wasn't because of the betrayed young man or the girl who had loved him. It was because of this single little puppet, weakest of them all.
Jester reached up slowly, and Blade realized he was clutching his own rag. Blade didn't move as Jester touched his face with it shyly then started wiping off McGrew's blood. Always the most vocal of the puppets, Jester made soft cooing noises as he gently stroked Blade's high cheekbone and the side of his face. He dabbed helplessly at Blade's reddened hair then gave up, letting the rag drop. It would take a real bath to clean the rest of the stains from Blade, and that would require a human's help.
Jester continued to look up at the larger puppet for a moment, then he turned away. Appreciating his friend's effort, Blade reached his hook around Jester's narrow waist and pulled him back, putting his arms around the thin body as best he could. Jester whimpered and almost collapsed against him, his little hands clutching the back of Blade's coat. Blade, who had no hands and could not touch Jester without hurting him, bowed his head.
The other puppets looked away politely. Pinhead put a hand on each of Tunneler's and Leech Woman's backs, and the three old friends stood quietly. Six-Shooter whistled and looked at the ceiling.
There was nothing for them to do but wait for Jane to return.
--
Jester finally lifted his head from Blade's shoulder and looked at the door fearfully. He dreaded the moment Jane would return and see what her father had done to her beloved. Like the rest of the puppets, he was fond of the human girl. She was the only one who treated them with respect, the way Toulon had treated them. Jester cast an anxious glance at Pinhead, who loved Jane best. Poor Pinhead would be devastated. . . .
The puppets didn't have to wait long. As the door flung open, Jester skittered away from Blade, for some reason embarrassed for the human girl to see him clinging to his friend. However, Jane didn't even glance at the puppets gathered on the floor. Instead, she stared down at her blood-covered father, who had by now regained consciousness.
"What have you done?" Jane cried. And despite everything the puppets had done to him, McGrew looked up at her with a smile on his face.
"I did it!" he hissed, pointing at Tank. Jane looked at the new puppet with mixed horror and tenderness. . . but Tank didn't acknowledge her. The flat, dead eyes on his screen were focused on McGrew.
"No. . . ." the old man whispered as he realized that Tank too was about to turn on him. The new puppet raised what Jester supposed was meant to be an arm-- a cannon attached to the side of his vehicle body.
"Robert, no!" Jane screamed. Jester's face spun from sad to horrified as Tank zapped McGrew with his cannon. Instead of shot, it fired a beam of power like the one that had trapped Robert in Tank's body. The beam hit McGrew in the forehead, turning his eyes into glowing green spheres. Jane was unable to turn her eyes from the sight of her dying father; her screams were barely muffled by her hands over her mouth. Pinhead looked not at McGrew but at Jane, his one good eye fixed sadly on her face. Leech Woman collapsed into Six-Shooter's numerous arms. Jester looked at Blade and saw that the pale puppet's bullet eyes were extended, his white lips parted.
Finally, McGrew's body stopped twitching, and he collapsed, a bloody heap with eyes burned out of their sockets. Jane collapsed as well, not hurt physically but shell-shocked. She sank to her knees, then lay on her side, her hands over her pale face. Her body hitched with unvoiced sobs, then she was still. Pinhead went to her, feeling first for her pulse with one large hand before peering into her face. He turned to the other puppets and grunted: Jane was unconscious.
Jester knew that something had to be done. They had killed two policemen, and when those didn't report back, others would come looking for them. God only knew what would become of the puppets then. Still, the six friends could only stand there at first, looking at one another. Jester cursed his weak brain, fuzzy from depravation of the serum. He was supposed to be the smart one; at least, that was what Toulon had always told him. But now Jester, the Puppet Master's favorite, couldn't think of a thing to do.
In the end, it was Pinhead of all puppets who set them into action. The bulky puppet lumbered over to Jane and looked her over. He gently rolled the girl onto her back, brushing her hair out of her face, and laying her hands across her stomach. For a moment, Pinhead stroked her forehead tenderly, then he checked her pulse once more. Satisfied that she would be all right, Pinhead looked at Blade and motioned a large hand towards the puppets' trunk, which McGrew had left in a corner after purchasing the puppets.
Blade's carved lips parted, then he nodded. He turned to the others and gestured at their trunk then towards the door. However, before they could start towards the trunk, the white-haired puppet stopped and looked up at Tank. The new puppet's face remained impassive.
Blade looked over at Jester and raised both his knife and hook hands. Should we bring him with us? he was asking. Pleased that Blade was seeking his opinion, Jester nodded.
He deserves a chance like the rest of us.
Blade turned back to Tank and, in a few motions, asked if he wanted to escape with the rest of the puppets. Jester expected Tank to agree-- but the human eyes on Tank's screen moved back and forth. No.
The new puppet backed up on his tiny treads and turned himself slightly to one side. Then he rolled to the edge of the table. . . into a position where he could look down upon Jane.
Maybe there's something of Robert left after all, Jester wondered. He himself could hardly remember what he had been like as the human named Hurd Kaiserman. . . but then Hurd had died a long, long time ago. Robert's memories might still be fresh for Tank.
Blade watched Tank for a moment, then he turned back to Jester and lifted his arms again in a shrug. Jester wondered if Blade could understand Tank's decision at all.
With Pinhead pushing from behind and Tunneler steering from the front, the original six puppets managed to get their wheeled trunk out the door of the shop and onto the driveway. Blade nodded his approval then took one last look around the shop before turning away in disgust. Jester understood: there was nothing the puppets could use from that place where they had been caged like animals. As they left, Jester wondered how Jane would explain Robert's disappearance and the mutilated bodies of the police and her father-- but there was no way the puppets could help her. Jester could only hope that leaving Tank behind wouldn't make things even worse for Jane.
It took a long while, but the little band of puppets finally made their way down the deserted road into the woods, to the spot where McGrew had disposed of his failed puppet. Luckily, Jane had taken Pinhead to her special spot in the woods before, and she had recently told him about finding something burned there. He had related this information to the others sadly. They all knew that it wasn't just trash that had been set on fire, and they felt obligated to check the spot.
Leaving their trunk on the road, the six friends made their way towards the scorched cloth lying several yards away. The rough ground was too much for Leech Woman's delicate legs, and Pinhead had to carry her. The puppets made a semi-circle around the cloth, from under which moaning could be heard. No one moved for a long time, then finally Blade reached out and caught the fabric on his hook, yanking it away quickly.
As it had done often that evening, Jester's face spun to horrified. The monstrous, yet somehow pitiful, creature that had been Matt was now half-burned-- and horribly, he was still alive. McGrew had lacked the courage even to make sure the rejected puppet was dead, and he had been lying in agony for weeks, helpless in the woods, unable to die.
"Jaaane!" the deformed puppet screeched, tossing his head and rolling his blue eyes. One arm flopped grotesquely.
A sick feeling washed over Jester. The Matt-thing turned his awful eyes on the six, and he blinked in recognition. He, like Tank, should have been perfection, but now he was only a gross parody of what the old puppets, the primitives, were.
Then the puppet looked straight at Jester. To his horror, the thing reached toward Jester, raising himself on an arm scorched to the metal bone. Jester felt as if he would die of horror if it said his name, immortal or not.
Jester scrambled away from the Matt-thing, but his little feet tripped on the rough ground, and he fell over. The other five puppets stared at him, surprised by his fright. Jester looked up at them, his eyes falling on Blade's face. The pale puppet's expression was blank, but Jester imagined Blade's disappointment in him, a puppet frightened by one of his own.
"Jessss--" the Matt-thing squawked. Jester screamed, scrambled to his feet, and ran.
He collapsed on the ground on the other side of the trunk, too far away to hear the warped thing's cries. He did however hear the sound of bullets being fired: Six-Shooter had put Matt out of his agony. Jester imagined Leech Woman folding the puppet's limbs into a semblance of peace, Tunneler digging a makeshift grave, and Pinhead lifting the twisted little body into the ground. Blade scraping dirt over it.
Those five were brave; they wouldn't let one of their own suffer. But Jester would. He had run away.
His face sad, the little puppet dropped his head into his tiny hands, wishing he could weep. If only Toulon were still alive, to cradle him and tell him he was the best, the prettiest of them all. If only Blade would hold him once more.
But why would Blade, or anyone else, care for a coward like him?
--
To be continued