The Builder sat in a pool of Marigold’s blood, causally smoking a menthol cigarette. Surrounding them was an entire armory, just waiting to be used.
Marigold’s corpse had been damaged so badly from the shotgun blast, only her lower half remained. Looking back at what was left, The Builder just stuck their tongue out in disgust.
Putting out what was left of their cigarette, The Builder then got to their feet, and proceeded to make their choices from the firearms.
“Let’s see. Flamethrower, sure. Molotov Cocktail ingredients, of course- Ooh, a China Lake Grenade Launcher!” Holding the pump-action device in one hand, The Builder was full-on salivating now. “How much wheeling and dealing did she have to do for this?!”
When their choices were made, The Builder then helped themself to some unlabeled alcohol and matches also in the room.
Peeking into another room, Annette watched Moony still ranting about his missing arm. Like a dutiful bodyguard, Sunny sat and listened.
Annette couldn’t tell if he was nodding out of agreement, or just about to fall asleep. Regardless, she entered their room and interrupted the tirade.
“I guess this belongs to you?” She could almost see Moony leap up in shock at seeing his detached limb. Scrambling over, he grabbed it from her and tried frantically to reattach it.
“Where’d ye find this, lass?”
She shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. “That Ox-Head guy threw it into my room and ran off.” Annette certainly hoped Moony wasn’t perceptive enough to catch her in a blatant lie.
The way he nodded indicated he wasn’t. “Sounds like him.” He then moved back and sat down, still attempting to fit his arm back on.
After his warm welcome, Dennis was quiet while sitting with Blaise and Alma at dinner.
“Hey, what’s bothering ya, Denny? I thought ya liked steak,” Blaise questioned with her mouth already full. “Is it over what’s been going on with ya and yers lately?”
Dennis nodded. “I know, it’s not fair to mull over my ex-wife’s death, while in the presence of you two.” He poked at the meal in front of him as he spoke. “It’s just hard to believe, I suppose.”
“We don’t blame you for thinking that, Dennis,” Alma spoke while stirring her soup around. “Regardless of what you thought of her, knowing she’s dead now can have quite an impact.
“And it clearly wasn’t a natural death, so that may complicate things.”
Listening to her words, Dennis concluded that Alma was right. He was shaken out of his reverie by Blaise, who was putting on a small smile to cheer him.
“Would it help if ya stayed with us tonight? Ya know, to have someone to talk to?”
Thinking it over, Dennis gave an approving answer.
Ox-Head was randomly chewing the sheets on the bed when Annette returned.
“Uh, so…Your little mishap with Moony should be fixed now.” He looked at her now, and clapped his hands in presumed joy.
“Thanks, blue lady!” He cried while having his mouth full of fabric. He then tipped over onto the floor rather arbitrarily. Annette waited for him to get back up, not wanting to touch him.
Kicking his legs in the air twice, Ox-Head jumped back up and proceeded to stare at her with his blank eyes. When he didn’t resume his usual nonsensical jabbering, Annette grew nervous.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
Ox-Head tilted his head, as if taking in her otherworldly beauty. It felt like forever before he spoke again.
“You know…” His voice didn’t hold the usual trembling he spoke with now. “I think you’re kind of nice.”
Annette scoffed when she heard the word nice. “Given the way you go off all the time, I’m having a hard time believing you-”
“No, I mean it! You don’t yell at me, or hit me, or sting me…” He paused, briefly sucking on one of his fingers. “And you made sure I didn’t get in deeper trouble with Moony!”
He smiled, which came off as unnerving yet genuine. “I like you, blue lady.”
Now Annette wasn’t entirely sure how to react to him saying that.
After night had fallen, The Builder had finally made their decisions for additions to their arsenal. Now, they decided to take one last stroll about the mansion.
Max’s body was already beginning to rot. They could smell it above them. The awful stench was permeating the air as they rummaged through the refrigerator.
“Aw, no good chilled booze. Guess I’ll have to make do with just old man brains in my stomach.” With that, they slammed the door so hard it came off.
They were certain that it was too dark for the cameras to see them now. This potential knowledge brought them immense pleasure.
“Hmmm, what to do with two old people that no one’s going to miss…?” An idea formed in their head as soon as they asked themself this.
A few moments later, The Builder was off searching in the garage.
Shark was laying wide awake in bed that night. At his feet, Sagebear was curled up and fast asleep. Next to him, Sinbad was already lightly snoring.
Not even holding his teddy bear was helping him get to sleep. Clutching it tightly against his chest did next to nothing. Another tactic he tried was to snuggle up against Sinbad.
Doing this appeared to have woken him up, going by the snoring ending abruptly. Shark then felt an arm wrap around him. Despite this, Sinbad’s eyes remained closed.
“Can’t sleep?” He sleepily murmured. Shark just shook his head for no. He didn’t notice himself doing it, but his feet began rubbing up against Sagebear.
“There’s a lot of stuff going on lately. I guess it’s keeping me awake.” Having woke Sagebear up, Shark and Sinbad now had her wedging herself between them.
Sinbad moved his arm up to Shark’s hair, casually ruffling it.
“It’ll get better. I promise.” He opened an eye to look at his fiance. “Yeah, it’s a lot of shit to deal with, but…We’ll get through it, right?”
Shark gave a little smile, then began petting Sagebear.
After the mansion and garage were thoroughly doused with gasoline, The Builder stopped to admire their handiwork.
“Well, I probably ain’t going to get rid of the pool, but at least it’ll look cool!” They then gave off an immature chuckle at their rhyming.
Then they pulled out one of the bottles of unmarked alcohol, and filled their cheeks to the brim with it. When they did, they then took a match and lit it.
Getting the position just right, The Builder then spat the liquor at the flame, causing it to intensify. Upon it reaching the gasoline, the reaction was quick.
A short time later, the entire mansion was up in flames. Seeing it happen caused The Builder to laugh maniacally and uproariously.
Soon, the once glorious estate was naught but ashes and burnt rubble. Smugly, The Builder now turned, and opened a portal.
They had to make one last stop before returning home.