The Lakeshore Strangler

[Gee]

So I had started this story back in 2014, and though I still love the whole idea of an origins story, I decided that the story itself was kind of messy. So with that being said, I am re-writing it. Can't say exactly how fast I will have this out there, but I thought I would post this little prologue if you will.

Feedback is greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy!


March 18th, 1950

"Drugs!" She cried out, clutching the nurse. Sweat dripped down her body profusely, her legs shaking, nearly falling down from the stirrups that held them. More than anything, she was tired and she was weak.

"Mrs. Ray, we're too far gone for that I'm afraid. You're doing great, I can see the head." The Doctor reassured her. He glanced over to the nurse, signaling her over. "Betty, get some ice for Mrs. Ray, would you?" He lit up a cigarette. He was hardly into his third drag before stomping it out. Leanne Ray was losing blood; a lot of it. And fast.

"Mrs. Ray, I'm going to need you to push as hard as you can, we need to get the baby out as soon as possible so that we can stabilize you, alright?" She could feel the Doctor's hands going inside of her, pulling her child out at the neck. She pushed as hard as she could, and feeling weaker all the while doing it. She knew that she would never get to raise her child, but the least she could do was get him out while she still had the strength. With one last push, she heard the cries she had been waiting for all those months, and she wept.

The nurse cleaned him of the blood and vernix, swaddled him in a plush blanket and approached the new mother. "It's a boy" she said softly, lowering him down so she could get a good look at him. He had his father's looks. "Let me say goodbye" she whispered. The nurse looked at her somberly, then the Doctor who nodded in agreement. The nurse laid him carefully on her chest, and Leanne gently put her hands on him.
 
The fatigue was soon taking over her, and every blink felt heavier than the last. "I hope you do great things." she breathed out. Her hands moved from her son's tiny helpless body, and the nurse rushed to grab him.

The room fell silent, and Leanne Ray was gone. His first victim.

[smngry]

Wow.

That was kinda haunting right there, but must say it leaves me wanting more. Didn't see that coming either so well done.

Glad to see the fan-fiction section alive again.

Can't wait for the next instalment. Keep up the good work Gee 😊

[Gee]

Thanks smngry

I definitely want it to be very dark from start to finish. Glad I got the reaction I was hoping for. Thanks for reading!

[Spanky]

Damn that's pretty dark, and I like it.

[Metal Matt]

Great job, Gee!

[Gee]

July 15th, 1962

"Screwdriver, Chuck" He demanded from underneath the body of his beloved Cadillac Eldorado. He held out his hand impatiently, and after a few seconds rolled himself from underneath. "Where are you boy? I gotta close this bitch up!" Chucky snapped out of whatever fantasy he was in and faced his father. He was covered in sweat and oil. This summer had been hotter than usual, and years longer.

Chucky hopped down from the stool in which he always sat when "helping" his father with any repairs. "Sorry Pop" he said with a nervous chuckle. His father rolled his eyes and looked back at him. "I wanna know where your mind goes, Chucky." Chucky raised his arm slowly then scratched behind his neck. His usual nervous habit. His father grabbed the screwdriver from his son's free hand and rested his hand on his shoulder. "I think you've had enough for today, huh Chuck? It's too hot for this shit anyway" Chucky pulled his arm out from his collar and looked up at his father, happy that his long day of handing tools was over. His father reached for the towel on his belt, wiped his hands feverishly and dug into his pocket. He pulled out a small wad of crumpled dollar bills. "Run to the store, get me a pack of Camels and the rest is yours." Chucky smiled, grabbed the money from his father's hand and made his way out of the musty garage. "Hold on there, Chuck. You gotta bring Glen with you." Chucky rolled his eyes and sighed. "Come on Pop, that's bullshit, Glen did nothing today!" His father shook his head and pointed his finger at him. "I don't want to hear it, son. When Glen gets older he'll be working just as hard. And by the way, be lucky your mother didn't hear you cuss or you would be eating soap. Now get your brother!" Chucky wiped the sweat from his forehead, and reluctantly obeyed.

Chucky walked into his family home, it wasn't much, but it was always comfortable. He wiped his feet on the signature "Home Sweet Home" rug and made his way down the narrow hallway to his and his brother's shared bedroom. Glen was sitting on his bed, putting together a model plane. His favourite hobby. With the feeling of being watched settling in, he looked up and noticed his older brother standing there. "Hey Chuck! I'm just about done with this one. It's the biggest one yet!" Chucky crossed his arms and looked away from his brother. "Yeah that's great, but we gotta go. Pops said you have to come. Cigarette run." Glen's brown eyes widened. "Cool! Let me ask Ma!" Chucky shuffled over to his brother's bedside and pushed him down. "Like hell you are! If Pop's is sending you what do you gotta ask her for? Don't be a little bitch." Glen rubbed his arms in attempts to soothe them from the shove. "Fine. Let me put on my good sneakers." Chucky rolled his eyes and made his way out the room.

Chucky and Glen made their way down the dirt road to "Phil's Variety". It was the only store that let Chucky buy all the skin magazines his heart desired. Glen was walking backwards beside his brother, as to keep constant eye contact with Chucky as they walked. He was going over his birthday wish list, which model plane is coming out next, and how he's waiting for his membership for his favourite radio program to come in the mail. Every word hit Chucky's ear like a knife and he was getting a headache. He grabbed Glen by the shoulders. "Listen here. I'll buy you a soda and a candy bar on one condition." Glen looked up in excitement, it was a rare treat that his brother did anything for him. "What's that, Chucky? I'll do it. I promise." Chucky laughed. "Alright. You gotta just shut your fucking mouth the entire way there and back. If I hear so much as a peep from you, I'm leaving you out here alone. And the hobos and coyotes can have you!" Glen stepped back, heart sunken and continued to walk forward.

"Phil's Variety" had the best selection of everything from candy to cigarettes to nudey magazines. "Hello Ray brothers! How's your old man?" Phil asked from behind the counter. "Hey Phil, he's just fine." Chucky answered distractedly, his eyes were focused on Playboy's Summer issue, Sports Illustrated's Bathing Suit edition and so on. His adolescent day dream was distracted by the shrill sounding voice of the girl who lived down the street. "You know those aren't real, right?" she teased, pointing at Miss July's exposed chest. Chucky looked up to meet her gaze. Tiffany Valentine. She must have been no older than nine years old. Her hair was almost as messy as her clothes. Chucky quickly closed the magazine and threw it back on the shelf. "God damnit, Tiffany. I'm trying to read here, don't you have some dumpster to dive in?" He turned his back toward her, hoping ignorance would be enough to send her off. She laughed, and walked closer to him. "My momma always told me that you can smell something on a girl who sells things. At least, I think that's how it goes-" Tiffany's philosophy was cut short by another familiar sounding voice. Rachael Valentine was the girl everybody lied about sleeping with. She was the older woman every man desired. With her being about 15, and Chucky being 12, he was very aware on how it all worked. When Playboy wouldn't work for him, he thought of Rachael.

"I'm sorry about her. She hasn't quite learned her place, ain't that right Tiff?" Tiffany shot her a scowl. Rachael stepped a little closer to Chucky, almost seductively. "You're that boy who lives down the road right? Your momma is that real short lady?" With a loss for words, he sputtered "Oh, no!" Rachael gave a confused smile. Chucky reached his hand behind his neck and scratched feverishly. "I mean, that's me. That's just not my mother. Mines dead. She's my brother's though." Rachael tilted her head and grabbed Tiffany's hand. "Well, that's too bad to hear. Must be hard not having a momma. At least your brother's is taking care of you. We should be going. See you later, neighbour." She winked at him, and dragged her sister behind her. It wasn't until the bells chimed that he remembered where he was, and that if his father didn't have his cigarettes soon, he'd be seeing red.

Glen walked back alongside Chucky, as quiet as ever sipping on his Dr. Pepper. Chucky looked down at his purchases with disappointment. Somehow, in comparison to Rachael, the models seemed subpar. His disappointment was cut off with the sounds of bicycle brakes and snickers from a bunch of boys. "Well if it isn't Glenny Ray? Faggot boy!" The biggest of the group sneered, the rest joined in laughing. Just like in the movies. Glen hid behind his brother, and it made Chucky fume.

"What's this about? What did Glen do?" Chucky said approaching the bully, looking down on him. "Your brother owes me one dick suck!" The bully snarled and looked back at his jovial comrades, laughing as they tortured Glen, who was easily five years younger. Chucky could hear his brother sniffle behind him. He felt angry. But not a normal anger, it was the kind that bubbled and was set to boil over any second. His mind went blank and all that he could think of was his hands around the bully's thick, exposed neck. Chucky stayed in his fantasy for a moment, relishing over the idea of the fat son of a bitch begging and crying for air. It wasn't until he heard Glen's screams that he realized his fantasy had indeed become reality.

"Let him go, Chucky! He's learned his lesson come on!" Glen screamed through tears, Chucky looked up at the other boys who were standing silent, in fear they would be next. With one last look at his brother, Chucky tightened his hands around the boy's neck and glared at him. He couldn't help but laugh as he watched the same boy confront him and his brother, crying and whimpering flailing his arms like a fish trying to break free from Chucky's grasp. He tightened his hands more and more, until finally the crying stopped, as well as the boy's heartbeat.

Glen fell to his knees, hysterical. His Dr Pepper now spilled on the path being consumed by dirt. Chucky looked up at the rest of the group, and scoffed at one who had pissed themselves during the whole ordeal. "Now fuck off!" He shouted at them and watched them scurry like mice to their bikes and wheel away. He looked at his brother in disgust. "Glen, you have to defend yourself and stop your crying. You're too soft." He walked over to his younger brother and got down on his knees to meet his level. "Don't you dare mention anything to your mother. Or she'll suffer the same fate as that piece of shit over there. I mean it." Glen looked up at him whimpering. "Ma's right. You're evil" Glen rubbed his eyes and stood up, still looking at the ground. "Lets go. Quit your bawling" Chucky demanded as he got up and dusted his pants.

The whole way home Chucky was waiting. Waiting for the realization of what had happened to kick in, to be flooded by guilt. He didn't even move the body. He just left him there. But even though he had played the scenario a million times within the twenty minutes they had been walking, he felt nothing. Nothing but satisfaction.

"Jesus, I was about to get in my car and find you. Where have you been?" Their father asked as he ripped the pack of cigarettes from Chucky's hand, not wasting a second to light one up. Glen stared at Chucky intensely, unsure of how to answer. "We just took the long way, Pop. Sorry." Chucky went inside and put away his magazines under his bed as usual, and played out the rest of the day as if nothing happened. For a while, he had forgotten something actually did go down.

July 16th, 1962

Chucky slept well the night before. Glen did not sleep at all. "Glen, honey eat your breakfast. What's wrong? Are you sick? You haven't eaten anything since yesterday." His mother pestered at the breakfast table. Glen stared at Chucky, and his mother followed his eyes to him. "Charles, what did you do to him?" Chucky ignored her, as usual. He picked up the funny section of the paper. She practically jumped on the table to grab it from him. "Not today. What did you do to your brother?" Glen looked quickly between his mother and brother, and turned pale. He opened his mouth and vomited all in his breakfast cereal. Their father, looking down for the first time from his morning paper, gave a disgusted look. "Chuck did nothing, Minnie! Christ! Put Glen back to bed!" And with that, turned right back to the sports section. Minnie urged Glen out of his chair and gave Chucky a deathly stare. "You count your blessings you still have your daddy to protect you!" And walked Glen to the bathroom down the hall. Chucky gave his dad an appreciative look. He always liked his old man. "Thanks Pop." Still focused on his paper, he sighed and turned the page. "She's right, Chucky. I know she's not your mother but, she's been there since you were in nursery school." Chucky dug his spoon into the oatmeal that was practically untouched all morning. He never cared for oatmeal. And Minnie knew that. "Only because you knocked her up." He spat under his breath. His father slapped his paper down and hovered his hand on his belt, nearly spilling his coffee mug while doing it. "You watch your tongue, boy. She's a good woman. You just never gave her a chance." His father and Chucky himself both became distracted by the sound of the doorbell. They both shot each other identical looks and his father turned back to his coffee. "Get the door, Chuck." Chucky got up, kicked in his chair and paced himself to the front door.

Tiffany stood there. Her brown hair a little neater than yesterday, she clearly tried to put effort in her appearance. "What?" Chucky asked shortly, still annoyed from the spat with his father. Tiffany leaned in closer and with one hand cupping her mouth whispered "I know!" Chucky was confused, knew what? Where he lived? Who gave a shit? Then he remembered. "Fuck, I killed somebody." He said in his head. "You know nothing. Go home." He went to close the door but Tiffany caught grasp. "He was on Spooner Road, I was too. I saw you kill him, but he had it coming, he was-" Tiffany shut her lips and discreetly pointed behind Chucky. He turned to see Minnie, arms crossed. "Have you seen Jimmy Smith?" She asked shortly, worry in her voice. Chucky literally looked down at her. "I don't know who that is." She glared up back at him. "You took my Glen down Spooner Road. The boy was found dead there last night. Don't take him that way anymore. It wouldn't surprise me if you had something to do with it." She turned coldly and stormed back down the hallway. Tiffany still stood there, shocked. "I can tell she's not your Mom-" Chucky laughed at her. "No shit, Sherlock. Listen I gotta go-" Tiffany interrupted excitedly "But don't you wanna see the body?"


"Jesus Christ" he mumbled to himself. He stared down the creek at bits and pieces of the boy he killed. Tiffany rode her bike up closer "You may wanna cover your nose, he's starting to stink" she buried her face in the collar of her shirt. Chucky knelt down to look deeper into the creek, and closer at the mess of a body. "If you wanna know who cut him all up, you're looking at her." Chucky looked up at her. She looked proud. She looked fake. "You're full of shit" he snarled at her, she looked hurt. "I'm not a liar. My daddy taught me how to do it! And besides. He was too heavy to carry in one piece." Chucky rolled his eyes. He paced back and forth. "Glen's gonna fuck me over, I know it. If not him it's gonna be Minnie. That bitch has wanted me out as long as I can remember." Tiffany got back on her bike. "I don't know, Chucky. But your secret is safe with me." He watched her as she pedaled off.

Chucky spent the entire day by the creek. Thinking. Planning. He couldn't stay here. He wasn't free. When night fell, he finally left his spot by the creek and quietly made his way home. He looked in the window. Glen was going to bed. Minnie was working her way to her bedroom. His father was watching the news. Chucky decided he would stand there until they all went to sleep. Then pack his things, and leave Lakeshore.

Chucky kneeled down beside his brother, who was sleeping peacefully. Chucky knew he would never make it in the real world. He was too weak, too fragile, too slow. He was doing him a favour, he knew he was. Chucky grabbed the pillow from his bed on the other side of the room, and pressed it into Glen's face. He watched him struggle and when he attempted to scream out he pressed harder. Chucky watched the clock tick as he continued to struggle. After seven minutes, the struggling stopped. Glen couldn't even die fast enough.

He walked out to the living room. His father laid on the couch, snoring. Chucky always appreciated his father. Yet, it didn't seem to stall him. He looked at his father for a moment, and realized he never loved him. A boy should love his parents, but he never did. He gently put his hands around his father's neck, and flinched a moment when he opened his eyes.

"Chucky, what are you doing?" They both stared at each other, his father's eyes filled with fear. "You know what your mother's dying wish was?" Chucky didn't flinch. He didn't care, she was dead. "For you to do good things, this isn't a good thing, Chuck. She would be hysterical if she was here right now!" Chucky squeezed as hard as he could, he could feel his father's pulse getting slower, his breath getting scarce. "Say hello to her me" Chucky whispered. His father cried, and gave in to his imminent death.

July 17th, 1962

He waited until morning. He waited in the kitchen for her. He was filled with excitement from the core. "Did you sleep on that damn couch all night, Bill?" Minnie asked scratching her head making her way to the kitchen. She glanced at Chucky through her peripherals and became startled. "Jesus, you scared me. Why is your father still asleep? It's damn near seven o'clock!" She made her way into the kitchen and started the kettle. Chucky began laughing, hysterically. "What is your problem, boy? Go wake up your brother and father!" Chucky sat down at the table. "I don't know, Minnie. They're sleeping like the dead." Minnie scoffed as she rummaged around the kitchen. Her distrust clued in and she quickly walked over to her son's bedroom. Chucky closed his eyes and waited blissfully for the sounds of her screams.

Minnie wailed holding her son's body, questioning why. She ran out of the room, Glen still in her arms and towards the sofa, where she screamed even harder at the sight of her dead husband. Chucky was getting impatient. He grabbed the largest knife from the block and approached her. "It's hard, isn't it?" He questioned her tauntingly. She looked up at him with tears clouding her eyes. "Your father loved you, I don't know how but he did! Glen looked up to you! You should have died along with your mother you sick fuck!" Chucky scoffed, then laughed. "You would love that, wouldn't you?" He approached her slowly and pointed the knife in her face. "For the first time in my life, I think I want to treat you like I did my own mother." Her lips trembled, rocking her son back and forth. "I'm going to let you die in a pool of your own blood" Minnie screamed, and Chucky slit her throat.


Chucky went into his bedroom, packed some clothes and rummaged around the room for anything of value. Glen's newest model plane was worth thirty dollars at least, he grabbed it and threw it in his bag. He looked at the knife he left on his bed covered in Minnie's blood. He wiped it on one of Glen's stuffed bears and threw the knife in his bag. He looked under his bed for his trinket box, he opened it and looked for anything he could pawn. He picked up the only thing he owned of his mother's, her favourite lighter. "To my dearest Lee, love always, Bill" was engraved on the side. He threw it in the bag, twenty dollars he could get for it perhaps. He shifted his focus to his father's bedroom, Minnie never wore any jewelry but there was two hundred dollars in her jewelry box. An easy train ticket and room for a few nights.

He left his childhood home through the back door and ran through the field. He would never come back, but he would always remember the dirt road, the blood, the screams and the start to his addiction.

[smngry]

Jesus Christ.

That was good, right up until Glen and the pillow, then it just really took me by surprise, which made it even better! I was shocked.

Another cracking instalment and getting more and more interesting. Glad you decided to start afresh and re-vamp this story

[Metal Matt]

Another great chapter, Gee. Really interesting to read about Chucky's childhood.

[Spanky]

Damn that was some solid reading. I like the idea of having his half-brother named that, because it kind of adds some reasoning to why he used the name in Seed.

[Gee]

Thanks everyone

I'm trying to make little tie ins with the movies and characters. Like how his mother's name was Leanne, went by "Lee". His dad made Lee his middle name in her honour. And with Glen I just figured it could be kind of like in Seed when thinking of names, Glen is the first name off the top of his head because it was his brother's.

[Metal Matt]

Yeah, the Glen name is a good idea.

[Gee]

Here is a nice long chapter for you all. Haha,

April 3rd, 1969

"Happy birthday, dear asshole!" They all sang drunkenly, arms linked and swaying from right to left, Chucky took a swig from the bottle. It didn't have a label, but he didn't care. It tasted like shit, but got him drunk. He passed the bottle of swill down to the man of the hour, Eddie Caputo. Eddie nodded to him and took a large gulp as his friends finished serenading him. "Fuck off, don't drink it all man. Spread the love!" John, the oldest of the quad said as he reached his head for his comb, puffing up his afro. Chucky threw himself into one of the many eclectic lounge chairs in John's small apartment. "I can only imagine what else you spread, John boy." He muttered drunkenly between laughter. John rolled his eyes and motioned his hands towards his groin. "Why don't you come taste, Chucky?" Chucky threw his head back in laughter. "Careful now, you're gonna tempt Mikey!" And he pointed to the least obnoxious of the group, Mike Norris.

Mike shook his head as he lit up a cigarette. Eddie plopped down beside him. "You know what, Mikey? You're not drunk enough for my liking." He belched as he pushed the bottle into Mike's chest. He pushed it away. "No thanks, man. I have to get going pretty soon." Chucky got up from his chair slowly, careful to not run into anything or fall over. He drunkenly walked towards them, and crashed beside Eddie. "He's gotta be sober for his father to tongue his ass later!" He cried out as he pulled a cigarette from his own pack. John took a sip from the shared bottle of booze and choked on it, while Mike who was not impressed, got up and grabbed his jacket. "You sick fuck, Ray. I'm heading out and you're coming with me. You can't walk back like this." Chucky squinted at him and threw up his middle finger. Mike returned the gesture, bid Eddie one last "Happy Birthday" and left John's apartment.

Chucky took another drag of his cigarette, which he was struggling to keep between his fingers. John rushed over and grabbed it from his hand before it could fall over and set the building on fire. Chucky was too far inebriated to really show annoyance. "Why do we hang out with that loser anyway? He asked as he pulled himself up slowly onto the couch. John reached into the drawer of his coffee table and pulled out a small bag of weed. Eddie looked up in excitement and motioned John to bring it over. John began to carefully roll the weed into the paper. "Mike has plans for his life, you can't hold that against him, Chucky. Maybe you can do something with yours, you're good at painting." He lectured as he licked the paper and finished rolling his joint. Chucky made himself comfortable. "Mike Norris will be a cop when, I don't know, shit flies." He laughed at his own joke and before he knew it, was passed out on the couch.

April 4th, 1969

He woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache and a stiff neck. He was hungover, terribly. Slowly he lifted himself up and squinted up at the clock, which made his head hurt more. He buried his head in his hands and let out a loud groan. John shuffled into the living room, gave Chucky a pathetic look and handed him a glass of orange juice and another one of his finely rolled joints. Chucky's stomach churned at the sight of the orange juice and he put his head back in his hands. "If I touch those, I'll puke." John put the glass of juice down on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch next to him, lighting up the joint as he sat. "No you won't, trust me. The cure to a hangover is OJ-" he took a deep hit from the joint, John never rolled them thin. "-and a little MJ" he struggled to word as he breathed out the avalanche of heavy smoke. Chucky smirked and shrugged, taking the glass of juice and gulping it down. It settled surprisingly well.

"When did Eddie leave?" He asked, stealing away the joint from John. He shuffled around all the books on the coffee table, pretending to be interested, but mostly just being nosy. John was definitely a weird guy. "A couple hours ago, he had to go back to the shop. Where you should be too, you lazy asshole." John shoved his elbow into Chucky, and laughed as he stumbled back into the seat. Chucky glared at him then opened the book in his hands. "The Heart of Damballa" he read aloud. John took the book from him. "Thats too advanced for you." Chucky took his last sip of orange juice. "What the fuck is it anyway?" John's eyes lit up and he raised his arms and circled them around the apartment. "All of this, is voodoo." Chucky rolled his eyes and scoffed at him. "Oh God, don't tell me you believe in that bullshit, do you?" John stood up and walked over to the center piece of the apartment: his mantle. It was covered in figurines, mason jars filled with powders and preserved bones, and at the center was a large portrait of a strange figure decorated in warped facial expressions and snakes. Chucky never really paid any attention to how his apartment was decorated. He and everybody else knew John was different, but he was still cool. John stared at Chucky with sincerity in his eyes, and Chucky knew he was serious. "Not bullshit. A life served to Damballa is a life of fulfillment. If you live and would die for Damballa, you can live forever." Chucky walked over to him. "How?" He questioned, intrigued now. John gave a slight chuckle. "If you really want to learn, I'll teach you. But for now, you better haul your ass to that old man before he skins it." Chucky looked past him to the clock on the wall. It was half past eleven. He was late. He quickly ran to the bathroom, splashed water on his face and tied his hair up into a pony tail. He ran out back to the living room, nodded to John, and ran out the door.

He sprinted ten blocks through bustling Chicago traffic. He loved the city, more than he expected. He thought back to when he was not even a teenager waiting at the Hackensack train station. An ongoing one way train ride to Chicago cost him $30 and left him over $300 for living expenses. He didn't know what he was going to do or where he was going to go, but he felt untouchable regardless. The street light indicated to walk, and Chucky came back to present day.

"You're only three hours late" Eddie said as he threw a towel at Chucky, who was just walking in the small automotive repair shop. "I slept in" he retorted while grabbing his coveralls from the locker labeled "Chuck". Eddie paced towards him, annoyed at his response. "Fuck you, I'm so hungover my head is gonna explode but I was here at 9!" Chucky zipped the front of his coveralls and walked over to the schedule posted on the bulletin board. "Stop complaining, he pays you more." he flipped through the appointment book. "I'll take the 12:30 Eldorado and you can take the Chevelle. It's just an oil change, easy." Eddie wiped the sweat from his brow and laid both his hands on his head. He muttered, embarrassed. "I can't do that, Chuck." Chucky, continuing to not look at him moved from the bulletin board to his time card, and punched the "12 o'clock" box. "Get the dick out of your mouth, Ed. I can't hear you." Eddie dropped his arms down and walked closer to him. "I can't change fucking oil, Charles." Chucky looked at him and let out a loud bout of laughter. "Are you fucking kidding me? How the hell do you know how to change a tire but can't change oil? It's just as easy!" Eddie was annoyed, and became defensive. "Well I'm sorry, you've been living and working with this guy since you were thirteen, and I've been here for two weeks." Chucky knew Eddie would hold this over him forever if he didn't clear the air. "Sorry for assuming, I'm just messing with ya'. You just should be learning that soon because it's mostly all we do here. Otherwise Kenny is gonna have your ass-"Chucky was interrupted by the all too familiar sound of Kenny Craig's deep, weathered voice.

"The only ass you should worry about is your own, Ray!" He shouted, waving his finger at him. Chucky assumed his nervous habit, and stretched his arm to the back of his neck and began scratching. "Do you have any idea what time it is? I'm pretty sure your start time is no later than 9am, boy!" The yelling was not helping his headache, and Chucky has had enough. It was always the same shit with Kenny. "I'm sorry, sir." He muttered. Kenny recoiled and let out a sigh. "Chucky, I mean it. You're a grown man now. I've let you live with me and work with me since you were just a boy. But if it happens again, you're fired." Chucky nodded in sincerity; and a familiar, sinister feeling took over. He smiled. "Don't you worry, sir. Never again in your life time I'll be late." Kenny nodded, and they all went on with their day.

Six oil changes and a spark plugs replacement later, it was closing time. Kenny had a car on the lift, and was just about done working on it for the day. Chucky looked at Eddie and urged him to follow him. "Hey Kenny, I'm gonna show Eddie around the control board before he heads home" he called to him, Kenny shouted back his approval and Chucky smiled. Eddie seemed eager to be learning something different. They both looked down at all the buttons. The lift was expensive and innovative. All controlled by buttons, none of them labeled. It took Chucky months to know which one did what, but one thing he did know was the green meant to lift up the car once secured, and red meant descend. Chucky looked at Eddie and smiled. "Go on and click the red button. That will elevate the car, it's already as high as it goes so it won't do anything, but at least it gives you a feel for what will go on." Without hesitation Eddie pressed on the red button, and looked at Chucky for confirmation. He was confused when he saw him chuckle quietly to himself, but turned white at the hideous crunching sound and Kenny's droning screams. Chucky met Eddie's gaze. "Oops. I guess that was the wrong button."

"Holy fuck, Chucky I'm a murderer!" Eddie shouted and ran over to the sink to be sick. Chucky pushed off all the tools on the counter behind him and pulled himself up to have a seat. "Eddie, relax. You're not a murderer. You just had a little accident. Like a kid who pissed themselves." He burst out laughing and slapped his knees. Eddie pulled his head from the sink and looked up at him. "You knew, didn't you?" He ran over and shoved his friend into the wall. "How could you set me up, you bastard! I've been good to you!" Chucky grabbed his arms and lowered them. "Eddie, I didn't set you up. I did us both a solid fucking favour." Eddie let go of Chucky and backed away. "Why did I have to do your dirty work? Why couldn't you just finish him off?" Chucky hopped down from the counter and opened the cupboard, he grabbed a bottle of cleaner and a towel. Eddie looked confused. Chucky sprayed down the control board, wiped it clean and put his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "There. No fingerprints, no problems. The lift is new, we can tell the cops that it fucked up and fell on the old son of a bitch." Eddie's eyes met with his and squinted. "This isn't the first person you killed, is it?" Chucky was taken aback. He never rehearsed what it would be like if somebody ever confronted him.

"Before I tell you anything I need you to contemplate something. I like you, Eddie. I really do. You were the only guy in high school I could even stand. And I see potential in you." Chucky walked around Eddie, who was obviously intimidated. "But let me make it clear. I do what I have to, and if you're going to fuck me over or even think you can't keep good old Kenny's little slip to yourself, you're sleeping with the fishes. I promise you that." Chucky stared at him, anticipating his response. Eddie nodded. "The lift just fucked up, I don't know officer." Chucky smiled, and Eddie smiled back. "I knew you wouldn't let me down. Now, do you remember hearing about the Lakeshore murders of 1962?"


April 5th, 1969

"This is a nice house, Chuck." Eddie said walking around Kenny's home, who he let Chucky live in for nearly seven years. "It's alright, hey do you want a beer?" Chucky asked from the kitchen. Tonight, they would have a proper party to celebrate both their victories. Chucky walked out to the living room with a beer in each hand to meet Eddie, who smiled and grabbed the beer from one of his hands. "I'll probably have to move out of this place pretty soon. He always went on about how he would donate the house to the Bible fuckers when he died to please his equally dead wife." Chucky joked as he cracked open the can of beer, sucking the foam from the top. Eddie giggled, then quickly looked at him. "Shit Chucky you didn't kill her off too, did you?" Chucky shook his head. "Nah, nature got to her first. Never even met her. Her body was useless, they never had kids." Chucky put his beer down on the coffee table. "Which leads to why I asked you to come early. A few months back I was looking through some shit, honestly looking for money. And I found Ken's will. I'm his beneficiary." Chucky smiled but Eddie seemed unsure. "Chuck, what does that have to do with anything?" Chucky sighed. "Jesus, Eddie. It means I get his money." Eddie let out a sign of understanding and Chucky was relieved. Eddie was a great friend, but lacked smarts in a lot of ways. "Yeah, to the tune of ten thousand dollars. Plus, I get his Cadillac." Eddie's mouth opened wide. "Now way, dude. Far out." Chucky laughed. "You sound like John if he were white. Anyway, you had a part in it, so I want you to have some. Don't even think about the car, but how does three grand sound?" Chucky should have offered half, but knew Eddie wouldn't say no to three thousand dollars. Eddie lifted up his beer. "I'll drink to that!" Chucky raised his beer and clinked his. "What can I tell you, Ed? It pays to kill."

The house was filled with people, Chucky ordered Eddie to invite everybody he knew and he did just that, though Chucky was positive he more than likely didn't know all these people. Everybody was drunk, and almost everybody was stoned. Chucky took a seat by John, Eddie and a few indigo-type girls John brought with him. "I can't believe it, still. Shit. That thing just dropped on him." John said while shaking his head somberly. One of the girls noticed he seemed disappointed and climbed onto John's lap. Eddie gave a look of disbelief and took the hand of John's other lady friend. "Hey sweetheart, come cheer me up. I was there!" She giggled as she stood up and pulled Eddie's hand, urging him to follow her. Eddie winked at Chucky and made his way upstairs. Among the crowd, Chucky found Mike, who made eye contact with him and worked his way through the crowd. "Great." Chucky whispered to himself.

Mike grabbed a chair from the dining room and pulled it over. "Jesus, Chucky. I'm sorry to hear about Kenny." Mike looked around the room and chuckled quietly. "Glad to see you're taking it well. How's Eddie?" Chucky took a sip from his drink. "Eddie's getting laid. So I imagine he's real upset about it." Mike laughed nervously, and got up from his seat waving frantically. Chucky was irritated, which with Mike, didn't take much to become. "What the fuck are you waving at?" He asked shortly. Mike smiled and reached his arm out. A woman walked over, she was beautiful. "Chucky, I want you to meet my girl. This is-" Chucky studied her for a moment. Then it finally clicked. "Rachael Valentine!" He blurted out, surprised at how loud he called her name. He had almost forgotten all about her. Mike became puzzled. Rachael squinted her eyes and tried to remember. "Oh my god! It can't be! Chucky Ray? We thought you were dead!" Her smile was just a pretty as he remembered. She matured beautifully. She was tall, but not slender. Chucky never cared for real skinny girls; he liked extra where it counted, and Rachael had extra where it counted the most. Her blonde hair was long and full of volume like it always was, and the dimple in her right cheek still popped out whenever she smiled. She began to laugh and grabbed Mike's hand. "Chucky and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Until those murders! My God, we were all shaken up. I'm so sorry too, Chucky. Losing everybody like that is awful." Chucky was still in a state of euphoria. He couldn't believe she was standing in front of him. "They don't matter. You look amazing." Rachael blushed and balanced her weight between her feet. Mike was jealous, he didn't like the attention she was showing him. "I'm gonna get a drink." He said, hoping to trigger a response. Rachael quickly smiled at him. "Mhmm, okay. Hey Chucky, do you have a cigarette?" Mike stomped away furiously. Chucky reached into his pocket. "I have a whole pack, let's smoke it."

The party dwindled down to a few people smoking weed and a plethora of people all over the furniture and floor, drunk and knocked out. Rachael and Chucky were awake and lively, and have been talking for hours. Chucky reached into his pack of cigarettes and realized it was empty. Rachael laughed. "Shit, we really did smoke that whole thing!" Chucky got up and walked over to the closest person who was passed out, and stole their cigarettes. They both roared in laughter. "Damn, Rachael. I just can't believe you're here. What brought you all to Chicago?" Rachael took the lighter from the table and lit another smoke. "Well, daddy went to jail about four years ago, so we moved to New York. Then when that didn't work for Momma we hit every major city so she could find a job, and I think she just got tired once we landed in Chicago. Been here nearly two years and I don't see it ending. Tiffany is actually going to school here." Chucky inhaled too deeply and choked on the smoke. The moment she said her name the memories of the body in the creek flooded his memory. "I forgot about your sister." Was all he managed to word together. Rachael rested her feet on the couch and grazed Chucky's leg. This made him excited. "She didn't forget about you. The day they found your family she swore up and down you ran away, we all thought she was nuts. I guess she wasn't, but how on earth did you escape that killer?" Chucky wasn't too sure what she meant, then remembered that as far as everybody else knew he was dead in Lakeshore. "Oh, well. I guess I'm just untouchable." She laughed. Chucky stretched his arm and started scratching his neck. "Let me ask you something, how did a girl like you end up with a fucking idiot like Norris?" She smiled, embarrassed. "Well, we've gone out a few times. I have a small typing job at the police academy, I met him there." She pulled her body closer to Chucky, who then could feel the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. "Does a guy like you, think you could please a girl like me?" Chucky looked at her with dilated pupils, he wanted her, badly. "Rachael, you have no idea." With that, she put out her cigarette and lunged herself to Chucky. The wet dream he had his entire life, finally becoming fulfilled.


April 6th, 1969

He woke up in his bedroom, beside Rachael. She was completely naked, the only thing between them being the thin cotton sheets. He got up from the bed slowly, to not wake her up and tiptoed around the house. There was shit everywhere, and where there wasn't shit there was people. A few of them were heading out, and nodded to him as they were leaving. Chucky felt amazing. Better than ever. He stumbled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, hoping to find orange juice. John was right, it worked wonders for a hangover. He grabbed the carton from the fridge and turned around, but was stopped by the worst possible sight for the situation at hand. Mike Norris stood fifteen feet away, fists curled and eyes filled with vengeance and anger.

[smngry]

Good to see an update Gee. Like how we're seeing some familiar characters too and how everybody comes to know each other. Was interesting to see Chucky take notice of John's books too. A good sign of what's to come. Bring on the next instalment

[Metal Matt]

Another great chapter as always, Gee. Interesting to see that Chucky and Mike knew each other before the events of the first movie.

[Gee]

Thanks guys. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'm already working on the third chapter.