Greetings, Fellow Adventurers. This is Jonathan, and if you don't know already, Justjackbros, a good friend of mine and a great helper on the wiki and a great author, has left us. He has said that he may check in every once in a while, but he has officially left the VenturianTale Wiki.
That being said, the sequel to Casket's Admin Hunt has not been halted. ThisIsMysterical, ElectricFire 169, and I have all decided to continue the adventures of the admins of the wiki and the Paranormal Investigators we all love! We will be doing the same setup like in the first installment, with each author's initial after their chapter title.
Thanks for your time, guys, and I hope you enjoy Admin's Casket Hunt.
The initials will be as follows: (C) is me, (M) is Myst, and (E) is Electric.
The first thing he felt was stinging.
Burning, scalding stinging. It felt as if his back was being torn from his body. Actually, it kind of was being torn from his body.
The police officer's uniform shirt had been torn from his torso and thrown to who knows where. Its not like the cop would be needing it anyways. His gun holster was empty; his torturer had most likely taken the weapon and was either keeping it handy or had discarded it. The officer had a feeling he wouldn't have the chance to try and grab it.
"Do you like this, pig?" the torturer shouted, his voice sounding a trifle too young to be doing this. "How does it feel to be hurt?" Surprisingly, the man stopped his striking, and the officer could hear his breathing slowing down. He's either done, taking a rest, or just getting started.
"I've been hurt many times. Time after time. I've lost everything I held dear to me. EVERYTHING!!! My family, my loved ones...everything!!!"
The officer tried to glance over his shoulder at his attacker, but his face was turned as soon as the young person's whip--or whatever it was--slapped him across the face. The cop could feel cuts on his left cheek. The whip must be studded with some kind of shards.
He could hear something clatter in the background. The whip?!? "I am going to make every last one of you die for what you've done..."
The policeman still didn't know what this guy was talking about. "What do you mean "every last one of you"? Why do you think I had something to do with it? Who DID have something to do with it?"
The young man cackled softly, and the officer could hear him strolling in front of him. Bending down, the man looking square into the cop's face. The law enforcer was surprised at what he saw: this...boy could be no older than eighteen years old! How sick and twisted could a teenager be to do this to someone?
Softly, the boy answered the officer's question. "EVERYONE had something to do with this, Officer Maloney."
It quickly dawned on the police officer: THIS was Jimmy Casket. The psychopath. The murderer. The sick, demented, twisted boy who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. To get revenge...
To fulfill his thirst for blood...
Maloney spat blood out by the teen's feet. Looking down to the splatter of red by his shoe, Casket looked back up to the police officer. Leaning in closer, Casket whispered into his ear. "Everyone will pay..."
And with that, Maloney felt a sharp pain, one stronger than the other. His mouth dropping open, Maloney felt the blade of Casket's knife driving through his chest. He felt the sharp point protrude from his back. He imagined the gory, blood-covered blade shoving out of his back.
Within seconds, Officer Maloney fell limp. Dead.
Cleaning up, Casket untied the dead and bloody body of the late Officer Maloney from his post. Dragging the limp body from his house, Casket walked all the way to his destination. It took hours. It only seemed to have taken seconds to Casket...
He had a plan in mind. He would fulfill it.
Dropping the limp body outside of the door, Casket smiled wickedly. Raising a hand, he knocked on the door to the home. Once someone opened it up, there would be no stopping.
Step two to Casket's plan was about to take effect...
He was about to get revenge on Toast, Ghost...and their young friends.
Chapter 1: You just can't be so sure (E)
And then someone knocked at the door.
In the sphere of human experience (and quite possibly most other life forms too), there are many different elements, emotions, thoughts, and other general responses which can be attributed to any given situation, given the time to think things through.
The process of formulating these responses, even for the simplest ones, is a complex one; the compilation and cataloguing of them even more so.
It could be said that keeping a complete record of all possible experiences is only of academic value, as all possible reactions to all possible situations have yet to be discovered.
And as the likelihood that these unrecorded occurrences will eventually be preserved for posterity is very low, and as the actual gratification on completion of such a task is even lower, few people ever attempt this. And for those that do, life quickly becomes tedious and they may find their friends begin to avoid them.
But out of all of the different feelings so far encountered by humans, Déjà vu is considered to be a most troublesome feeling indeed.
That nagging, almost itching sensation of some half-remembered familiarity.
The tugging at the back of your mind telling you something’s off.
You’ve been through this before. Somehow, somewhere, you instinctively know that this isn’t the first time that this has happened to you. You can’t explain it, you just know.
It’s a tricky phenomenon, to say the least, and certainly not the easiest to account for.
More often than not, this is a trick of the mind – a neuron misfiring somewhere, a minor similarity expanded upon by the cerebral cortex, looking for the familiar in an effort to explain the constant inconstancies provided by an ever-changing world.
But in Jack’s case, he knew exactly what he was experiencing, and something about this situation was deadly familiar.
The knocking on the door. Just after they’d got away from that nightmare labyrinth Casket had nearly killed them all in.
Alarm bells were ringing in the back of his mind. Something wasn’t right.
Something definitely wasn’t right.
Why did all this seem familiar to him?
“Who could that possibly be?” Val finally spoke up. "Does anyone know we're here?"
"No." Said Jack.
The knock came again, more insistent this time.
Jack glanced over to the others. Everyone was staring intently at the door. Jon, previously seated, stood up and appeared to be about to say something. Unfortunately as he was standing up he pulled a stomach muscle located a little too close to his stitches, and he winced and sat down again. Rire and Val came to his aid.
For some reason, Sage was nowhere to be seen, and it showed.
Johnny Toast seemed to feel “it” too, although he didn’t seem to understand it either.
The tension in the room was almost unbearable.
Johnny Ghost, however, had not noticed his peers’ dreadful revelation.
“Well isn’t anyone going to answer the door?” He asked rhetorically, as he stepped over to the front, hand outstretched.
“Wait.” Said Jack. Everyone turned to face him.
Without saying anything, he pulled the antique flintlock off of its perch on the wall and clicked off the safety.
“Just in case.” He said, before any of the group could accuse him of overreacting.
Slowly, very slowly, he moved towards the door and unbolted the latch. He idly wondered if Sage was doing something similar behind him. Probably with something rocket-propelled and highly combustible.
The cold dread gripping at his very essence seemed to melt away, and all he felt now was a strange, unfamiliar calm.
The calm before the storm, he didn’t wonder to himself.
He swallowed hard, turned the handle, and pulled.
“Oh, so this is how you greet people?”
In the back room, there was a wooden thunk and someone crying out.
Chapter 2 (M)
Myst grunted as she brought her heavy duffel bag up the last step. She waved the friendly cabbie good bye and turned to the wooden door.
She opened her phone to check if she was in the right place. She didn't need to have the same experience twice. "117 Moore Street", the text message from her cousin said. Myst looked over her shoulder and spotted a sign that said, "Moore St." She glanced back at the wooden door and spotted the numbers 117 on it. Plated bronze, in fact. This was the right place.
As timid as she was, she knew she couldn't just stand by the door and wait for someone to open it. She knocked on the door.
A few minutes passed, but no one came. Maybe I knocked too soft? she thought. She knocked harder, then winced. "Too hard," she muttered to herself.
After a few seconds, she finally heard the doorknob click. When the door swung open, her eyes grew wide at the sight.
A bunch of teens were huddled by the door, as if waiting for a ferocious beast to come and gobble them up. One of them pointed an old-fashioned gun right at her face, ready to strike. The guy looked as surprised as she was.
Myst tried to keep her cool. "Oh, so this is how you greet people?"
A few moments of silence passed before she heard a cry of pain from inside the house. Whatever it was, it certainly knocked them back to their senses. They all ran back inside. Curiosity got the better of her. She tossed her duffel bag inside and followed everyone else.
Inside the kitchen, a girl was armed with a rolling pin. A boy was lying on the floor, grasping his head and groaning in pain.
The boy who had greeted her with a gun suddenly spoke up. "Adam?"
The girl with the rolling pin looked at him with shock written all over her face. "Do you know this guy?"
"Unfortunately, yes," he replied. "Adam, what are you doing here?"
The guy who got clobbered sat up and gave him a pained smirk. "Hey, no one said I couldn't visit my little bro. Is this a bad time, Jack?"
The rest of the teens looked at "Jack", horrified. Jack, however, kept a stern look.
"This house has a front door," Jack said, seemingly trying to push down the anger. "Why the heck did you use this one?"
"I was in a hurry, okay?" Adam's tone was serious this time. "Look, let's not talk about it here. And can someone get me an ice pack or something? This girl here hit me so dang hard."
One of them rushed towards the fridge and grabbed a pack of ice. She then wrapped it in a towel and handed it to Adam.
He pressed it to the back of his head. He winced, then smiled at the girl. "Thanks, uh…"
"Val," the girl replied. "I'm Jack's… friend."
"Friend?" one of the other guys repeated.
"Shut up, Rire," the girl with the rolling pin hushed him.
"Aw come on, Sage," Rire whined.
"Whatever!" Sage exclaimed. "Let's just move over to the living room. This… Adam guy has a lot of explaining to do."
They all moved towards the living room. Apparently, they were too occupied with Adam to not notice her tagging along, which was fine. They all took a seat on the couches as she took her place in a corner, trying to keep herself unnoticed.
"Okay, Adam," Jack began, annoyance tinged in his voice, "what's this important thing that needed you to use the back door instead of the front, which is the most sensible thing to do?"
"It's not," Adam replied. He still seemed hurt at his brother's indifference. "The back door was the most sensible entryway at the moment."
"Care to explain why?"
Adam took a deep breath, then said, "It's Jimmy. Jimmy Casket."
Myst flinched at the name. Interestingly enough, everyone else did as well.
"Casket?" Johnny Toast repeated, his voice laced with dread. She didn't even notice him and her cousin Johnny Ghost in the room with them.
The boy nodded. "He… I saw him kill Maloney. Murdered him in cold blood. As he was dragging the dead body off, I heard him chanting names. I got scared when he mentioned yours, Jack."
Jack didn't react. His face was still hard as rock, staring at Adam, most likely calculating his statement.
"Why would you be scared?" Jack asked. "I know you well. I know you'd want me to end up just like Maloney, if you're telling the truth."
"Why would I lie about Jimmy-freaking-Casket?" Adam answered sharply. He then eased, his expression turning into sadness, then said, "I'm sorry, Jack. Really, I am. I was wrong. I was so wrong to hate you. I was so wrong to treat you like I did. I thought that… maybe… maybe this'll make up for it."
The girl named Val, who sat next to Jack, put her hand over his clenched fist that lay on his lap. "Jack," she said, her voice calm and soothing.
He let out a sigh. "So if this is true, then what do you suggest we do?" he asked Adam, his voice less harsh.
Heh, that rhymed, Myst thought to herself. She was like that most of the time: desperate to find something to lighten up a dark mood. But in no way was she ever saying that out loud. She liked that no one was noticing her presence, especially since she barely knew them and the tension was too much for her to partake in first-hand.
"Jimmy's closing in on you," Adam told them. "He chased me down for a good amount of time after he saw me following him. I lost him before I got here, but I wasn't gonna take my chances."
"Oh, so that's why you went through the back door," Rire realized along with everyone else. Adam nodded briskly.
"What do we do now?" Ghost suddenly said. Looked like he got tired of listening and not talking.
"Run. Escape while we can," one of them said.
"You're talking crap, Jon," Rire answered. "I say we face the guy head on."
"That's not the best idea right now," Toast said. "I knew how to neutralize him when he was… you know what I mean. Now that he's in a different body, perhaps even found a way to make a new host for himself, we're basically starting from scratch."
"Exactly," the guy named Jon said. "We keep evading him as much as he can, maybe keep an eye on him from afar, just so we can know how to fight him. Neutralize him. Maybe even kill him."
Before Myst knew it, she spoke, "You can't kill him."
Everyone's eyes fell on her. Crap, she thought. Baffled, she decided to further explain her point.
"Jimmy's an entity. A parasite, if you will," she stated. "There's something about him that makes him impossible to kill. I don't know what it is, but there is."
"Who… are you?" Jack asked instead.
"Myst!" Ghost cried, indirectly answering Jack's question. He rushed to her and gave her a tight hug.
Myst laughed and tapped his back. "John, let go. Can't breathe."
"Whoops!" He let go, but kept his hands on her shoulders. "You're early. I thought you weren't coming till next week?"
She rolled her eyes. "I told you to keep a calendar around, John. Geez.
"But that's not the important thing right now," she continued. "I agree with… Jon, right? Yeah. We should be on a constant move while keeping an eye on him. It's the best plan right now. The attack can be done when we have enough information to make an effective move on him."
Sage sniggered, which made Myst shrink inside. "I like her. She's smart. Not like Rire here."
"In any case," Toast said, "we should get packing."
In a few minutes, everyone was busy moving around the complete mess of a house. They collected equipment, books from Toast's study, weapons, canned food and other necessities that will come in handy. They loaded all the things into PIE's white van and got in, squishing themselves in between equipment, and Ghost and Toast sat at the front. By almost late afternoon, around 4 o' clock PM, the grimy white van drove off.
The trip took at least an hour and a half. Toast was driving, and it wasn't very pretty; the van kept swerving around and randomly halting abruptly. When they arrived, they found themselves staring at a huge, seemingly-abandoned warehouse. According to Toast, it was something he bought online. No one bothered pushing it any further.
When they got in, the boys started barring the doors and other possible entry ways while the girls cleaned the place up. When everything was done, everyone was in a heated discussion over a meal of canned beans on what to do next.
"I really think we should go offense on this," Rire said.
"We've been through this, Rire, that's not gonna work," Sage answered exasperatedly.
"Even if we did, it's not gonna be that effective," Jack added. "In any case, we'd only slow him down. We need to know what his weakness is in his new form that we can take advantage of. If he actually has one."
"That's very optimistic of you," Myst couldn't help answering.
"I wish I could help," Ghost said, "but I've only been aware of him a few months back. Besides, whenever he's in control I black out. I don't remember what he's done while I was out."
"It's okay, Johnny," Myst assured him. "Even if you did know anything more about him, I doubt it'd be helpful because he's… different now, in a way. He's much more powerful now that he has full control over a body 24/7."
"Hold up," Jon suddenly said, raising both his hands. "I thought Toast said you don't remember anything about Casket?"
All eyes fell upon Ghost, who shifted uncomfortably. "I lied," he finally got out. "I barely escaped him. I thought that if maybe I told him I don't remember anything about that... thing, then maybe we'd stop minding about him, try to forget this ever happened."
Everyone was silent. Myst had a feeling that they all wanted to talk, but no one had the guts to do so.
"We should probably talk more about this tomorrow," Val suggested, trying her best to put the topic off for the time being. "It's getting pretty late. Maybe a good night's sleep would help."
"It's hardly a good night's sleep," Sage muttered.
"Holy crap, how long did we work on barricading the door?" Rire asked no one in particular.
"Well, we did have trouble finding enough wood to cover it up," Toast replied.
"We're gonna have to take shifts," Jack suggested. "Try to see if Jimmy's getting any closer. If he is, keep a close watch on him and see if we can get anything useful. I think I saw a spot up on the roof that we can sit on while we're on the lookout."
"Great idea," Jon agreed. "Go grab yourself a flashlight and a pair of binoculars. You okay with being the first watch?"
Before Jack could answer, Val suddenly said, "I'll go help him! Y-you know, so he won't fall asleep up there and fall…"
"Welp," Rire said, lying on the makeshift beds (which were basically just a bunch of old matresses they found in the warehouse). "Looks like someone's gonna have to watch them instead."
"Shut up," Sage shushed him.
"O-kay then," Jon shrugged instead. "Guess we'll have to go in pairs. Go ahead, you two."
The two teens nodded, grabbed a few things from the "junk pile" (they didn't know where to put all of their stuff so they dumped all of the duffels bags they were carrying on the floor and started calling it that), and headed up a slightly rusty ladder. Everyone else started settling down on the beds.
"Hey, Rire," Myst said, attempting to lift their spirits a bit before eventually falling asleep. "Jack and Val, are they… how do I say this… like, a thing or something?"
"Yeah," Adam agreed, equally interested. "Is my little bro dating her?"
Rire chuckled. "I honestly don't know. But those two, they've been really close lately. He said he was gonna try to go out with her, but we've never heard about it ever since."
"I noticed that too," Sage added. "I mean, seriously, those two are almost always next to each other."
"Maybe it's Jack's promise to Nick that's given him this confidence boost?" Jon joined in.
Myst cocked her head. "Nick? Who's Nick?"
They all went quiet. A curtain of despair hung above the three teens. Did something bad happen to this Nick guy? she thought.
"Maybe… maybe tomorrow, Myst," Jon finally said. "We'll fill you in on that tomorrow."
"Can't wait," she mumbled.
Soon enough, all of them were snoring fast asleep.