Though both Putty Penelope and Professor Klan implored him and attempted to sway him to do otherwise, Mel was a man on a mission. He already had on his bright neon green shades, his trucker hat, and was humming the song of his people as he marched towards his tower. Professor Klan did not follow beyond her fun house, but Penelope seemed to want to be the first to be blasted by his gun... Nothing really surprising there, though.
The succubus kept asking him why he wanted his gun and, for that matter, what gun he was talking about. He knew they never showered, but did they ever wash their hands and needed a fresh towel? Did they never open the linen closet, truly? That’s... just plain nasty... Maybe that was why he immediately refused Brin’s offer of breakfast while he sought out his weapon of ass destruction. Not only did they not have time to wait (though that’s not entirely true; it would actually benefit him for the putty men to clump up a touch, to gather for the slaughter he had planned.), but after such a thought, and realizing how much he has actually eaten of her cooking... then realizing he wanted to tap that unwashed, sweaty, fetid b- he had to fight back his bile a little in telling her no, and did his best to keep it stomped down as he thundered up his steps.
He practically flew through his room, through the smallest crack in the entry, and into the bathroom. The linen closet boomed as he threw it open, and there, as he expected, his double-barrel awaited. It was (now) his prized possession, his sixteenth birthday gift from his dad and the only gun he ever owned. He had gone back home a year or so before to retrieve it... as well as to see his new, little sister. Melanie; in other words, she was cursed to be a bitch before her life even began. She looked so peaceful in her seafoam green crib in what was once his room, the metal band posters taken down for soft ornaments, the holes painted over with a soft, complementary blue.
He found his gun packed in the top of the closet, hidden behind the rest of his items his father could not find the heart to throw away. Mel wondered what he had to explain to his mom to allow him to keep them; midlife crisis? Or, considering his density, would it be half-death? Sadly, he did not have the time to stay, so he took his gun and the silver suitcase beside. It once housed... cards. Tons and tons of cards; sadly, even he knew his father wouldn’t have been able to talk his mom out of selling those. The lotuses alone most likely made the majority of his new little sister’s college savings, while the Moxes were the icing on the cake. All that time seeking them out, keeping them secret, safe... gone with one night at a strip club where he wanted to be a drunk ventriloquist.
He swung the suitcase over his shoulder, rested the gun under his left arm, and looked upon the room one last time. It was going to go through a lot of changes, another life that will grow and change it to what she saw fit. He only hoped it wouldn’t have as much jizz; given her genetics, she’ll most likely be just as much a shut-in, with a crapton of guys pining over him but she just doesn’t want to deal with it... He walked up to the crib, and saw that little Melanie was awake. She had the prettiest pair of green eyes, simply looking up at him in awe, wonder.
“How’s it going, future punk-ass bitch?” He said, and tapped her nose. She giggled, the most diabetic coma-inducing sound you could ever hear, and cooed as she reached up for him. “Oh no. I ain’t dealing with you. Won’t be long before we’re annoying the piss out of each other, anyways... Well, relatively short, I should say. You know, it hasn’t even felt like a year yet over there, yet, here you are, in what was once my room pimped out for your baby self... Take good care of mom, okay? Love her, cherish her every single day.”
He tapped the kid’s nose again, making her squeal in that little baby way that was like a red alarm for all women in a five mile radius to come and awe at, so he opened a portal to the otherworld again and left her behind, knowing that he had the first insult. He placed both items in this linen closet, unsure if they would ever be used but they were his, dammit. They were a part of him... somebody, something he was still trying to rebuild after it was shattered, torn away from a world he once knew and forced into this prison. He needed another piece of him, another memory, if only to still his mind that little bit. That night, he also told the first lie between siblings, though it was the truth, as well. It hadn’t felt like a year.
It felt like a century... He sat back on his futon, loading the gun first with the box of shells, as he had done in his dream. Unlike his dream, though, he seemed to have miscalculated; there were still three shells in the bottom of the box. The shotgun could only hold six at a time, so he put the other three into the silver suitcase, which was indeed filled with its brethren. He remembered doing so about six months ago; couldn’t really think of another use for a suitcase since magic kind of removed the necessity for one, so he thought why not make it an ammo case. Instantly refills whenever it was clicked shut, too; it was his arts and crafts piece, but the professor asked him to do something else, that it was “frowned upon”.
Well, whose frowning now, professor? Who is dreading the putty apocalypse now? Not Mel! He already showed one who was boss, though she was awfully cocky, tapping her foot before him.
“Is this really necessary?” Saliim grumbled. She sat to his right, chewing on her lip, giving him false hope. Brin stood off to the left, refused her seat due to the gun and now the suitcase.
Mel cocked the shotgun, and aimed it between Brin’s legs.
“Very,” he said, and kept it aimed there as he stood. “Let’s go see Benjy so you can get out of my hair.”
“R-really? But I thought we could-” Puttynelope began.
“He has plans today,” Saliim interjected. “He is going to finally partake in sexual activities.”
“Yup,” Brin said, giggling as every fiber of her being quivered, making it ever harder for Mel not to pull the trigger. “He’s going to have his first time with me.”
Saliim scoffed. “Still on about that? I’m telling you, you are better off doing it with me.”
“This is insane,” Penelope uttered. “Ridiculous... You’re really going to lie with these... things, Mel? Either one?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re demons! Beasts. Summons; you’re on the same level as familiars like dogs, bats, and owls... Are you really saying you are okay with lying with any of those, Mel?”
“That is speciest!” Brin shrieked, bearing down on Penelope. “How dare you! We are human, as well.”
Penelope held up her hand, making an unsure sound. “Humanoid...”
“Regardless! We are still human. We talk like humans. We eat like humans... and we have... needs like humans.” Brin turned around and lunged at Mel. She let loose a moan as the gun slid between her legs, her thighs squeezing either side of the barrel until it met his hand, and embraced him wholly. Her lips seemed to melt onto his, the world a hot haze in those bright, pink eyes, fighting so hard to keep open and look into his eyes. She pulled away, panting, but the runes on her skin showed her true desires, burning hot, hot, hot hot pink. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
Saliim cooed. “Aww... she finally feels horny. That’s adorable. However, I think we’re supposed to be going to Benjamin’s office?”
Brin growled, and unwound herself from Mel –not without great disdain, though, and force. Every part, every inch of skin clung and wanted to remain a part of him, but she managed to let him go, and his gun was aiming once more in between her legs. The urge to pull was greater than ever as they jerked and twitched following Peneloputty –there we go! Penloputty. Perfection– to good ole Benjy’s. The old man had a tired smile on his face as they entered, but it was quickly taken seeing Mel, his gun, his suitcase, and his attire.
Mel took his usual seat, though had to adjust his arms accordingly to make sure he was still aimed proper, which must have been quite a sight for the old man. His brow kept darting from the end of the barrel to its destination, pure puzzlement streaking his gaze, but he simply... let it go, focusing on Mel wholly.
“Sleep well?” He said.
“I guess,” Mel said. “Wish I could have been out a bit longer. It was just getting to the good p-”
“The carpet constrictor was returned to the Suede Isles from whence it came. Completely unharmed. Nobody died, though there were some on the brink.”
“Crushing... Sadly, we still have no idea who brought it here or why. If its intended target was you, then it took its sweet time.”
“Can you blame it? It had a veritable smorgasbord. Like any wise eater, it partook in the rest of the all-you-can-eat buffet before it decided to head to the dessert table.”
Saliim snorted again, turned into a right giggle.
“My apologies, but now all I can imagine you as, I dunno, a bowl of jelly or pudding or a lemon sorbet cake.”
“Why not a cherry pie?”
“You’re not that sweet, or that much a delicacy.”
“Though imagining you with whipped cream,” Brin mumbled, which only made her pink runes burn that much brighter.
Benjamin cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, the point still stands. We are no closer to catching this would-be assailant.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Mel said. “We could look at the not-evidence.”
“Well, who was not eaten, for starters.”
All eyes turned to Peneloputty. She blinked, the wheel behind her eyes turning, pondering why suddenly everybody was paying attention- and finally the poor gerbil gave it enough power.
“Wait. You think I did it?” She shrilled. “Why would I? I love Mel.”
“Yandere levels of love, though,” Mel said.
She scoffed, taking a step back. “You really think I would try to kill for you? Do any of y-”
“Yes,” all of them answered, in their own variations.
“Huh... didn’t think I was that-”
“You are!” Again, all of them, with minor variations.
“Well, sorry! I just love him, okay... I never loved anybody before... not as much as I love him... and it’s how I saw my dads show their love, so I thought it was normal... but I’m no murderer.”
“Yet,” … Only Mel said... though there was no denying the others were thinking it.
Benjamin cleared his throat once more, breaking the tension.
“I believe her.” He stated. “I do not think she is the one summoning all these monsters to the Institute. Also, we can filter it down more: whoever it is resides in NAEC. None of these events are extended beyond this sector, and magic is cut off in between each. A way to prevent bombardment between hateful factions.”
“Like China and Tibet?”
“I’m not going to confirm nor deny any-”
“Germany and Russia? India and smaller, surrounding countries? Middle East?”
“Mel, I would greatly appreciate it if you sto-”
“Oh! Scotland and the rest of the world, but how do you stop them from attacking one an-”
“Whoever it is,” Benjamin barked, “is in. Here.”
“The only other two I can think of are Destiny and New Jersey-”
“And Daisy,” Peneloputty interjected.
“Miss Dominus does keep a suite in every sector of NA.”
“It’s not her,” Mel said.
“Now now,” Peneloputty chided, giggling, “we cannot rule out anybody, Mel-”
“It’s. Not. Her.”
“How can you be so sure,” Benjamin asked.
“Especially when a freak harpy cluster flew through your bedroom and took you to her,” Peneloputty added.
“She had nothing to do with that, and she has nothing to do with any of what’s going on,” Mel asserted. “She’s... she’s innocent. I know she is.”
Benjamin hummed, looking him in the eyes, neither one wavering an inch.
“Very well,” he said. “I shall trust you in regards to Daisy... Penelope?”
“I need you to go collect Destiny and Dennis. They need to be questioned on all of this.”
“You sure you don’t want me to get Daisy, as well?”
“Very well.” She grumbled something as she stood, giving Fred Flinstone a run for his money as she stormed down the steps.
“As for you,” Benjamin continued, “return to your room. Lie low for a bit... and don’t look so damn conspicuous.”
“Got a problem with my trucker cap?” He said.
“Not on its own... j... why?”
“Puttypocalypse.” He cocked his gun.
“So... why do you have it trained in between my legs?” Brin said.
“I’m expecting something big to pop out. Something big and long and thick.”
“... Please tell me we don’t have to have the birds and the bees talk,” Benjamin said.
“I can assure you there’s nothing little those little critters can do with what I expect to come out. I’m a bit disappointed Saliim swallowed her load; that was going to be more fun if she simply spit.”
“Excuse me?” Saliim exclaimed. Her cheeks burned bright red while her runes had a bit of pink to them. “I mean, I do swallow, but... excuse me!”
Mel simply stood, humming his song again, and headed down the stairs, expecting a swathe of putty men at the bottom... but only had one. He popped it in the chest and continued on to his room, finding the way clear of any others. He aimed at his door, expected an entire brood to come swarming out... but, again, only a couple did. He sat his gun against the left arm of the futon and plopped down, rubbing his brow.
“Where’s my putty ocean? I was promised a putty ocean! This is barely a puddle,” he grumbled, and leaned back, whining. “Sad Christmas!”
“The fact there were any raises a few questions,” Saliim blurted, standing before the twitching bodies of the two putty men. Brin ignored them completely, stomping across their bodies and launching herself into Mel’s lap. “Where the hell did they come from? Why the hell were they here? Who sent them?”
“Less questions, more fucking,” Brin breathed, whimpering as Mel batted away her hands. “Please! It hurts so much. I NEED it!!!”
Saliim finally came to her senses and stormed over, trying to pull the succubus off.
“Hell no! I told you. I go fi-”
Brin yowled, the sound very akin to a feral cat if a feral cat was also possessed by Satan, and pounced on Saliim. Her shrieks, her pleads sounded very... putty-like, which explained why Brin’s onslaught only became more and more ferocious. She did not stop until Saliim was reduced to gurgling, until the walls were painted in blue blood, and the poor succuputty was little more than a pile of pulp on the ground, pulsing green.
Brin wheeled in the air, an unearthly grace to it, and continued to carry that grace as she floated back to Mel, back onto his lap. Her cute eyes had been replaced by sickly yellow slits, the sclera black as night and smoldering with the fires that could only come from Hell, itself.
“I need you, master,” she said, her voice cold, distant, yet biting right into his neck. “I need you... take me.”
Unspeakable carnage, otherworldly outburst, bathed in the blood of her enemy; how could Mel say no. He even got to continue to hum his song as he partook a different kind of country road.