We're All Mad Here - Mad as a Hatter

Brandon, now wearing his trademark white mask with a hood over his head, walked down the empty street on the outskirts of this town that he had not visited in years. His home town. Memories began to conflict with the feeling that constantly dominated his mind. Brandon had come to love the feeling. It was a subtle pulling now; a small tugging at the back of his mind reminding him that he had something to focus on. That soon he would need to spill more blood. He walked along the sidewalk past the bus stop. Brandon stopped. He was home. He noticed a condemned sign posted by the city on the door. The house looked vacant and derelict from the outside, but he picked up the key they always kept under the rug, which was now covered in a blanket of dirt and dust. He enters the house. If Brandon was the first one to get home before his parents or brother did, he always let himself in with the spare house key his folks got for him, which came in handy for him. 
He looked around the house. Everything seemed preserved as if he had just left the house the day before. Not a single thing had been move or taken down. Brandon fought back the urge to call out to his parents. He knew that he would not be getting a response; he saw to that all those many years ago. The moonlight from outside beamed in through Brandon's kitchen and faintly illuminated the counter and living room. The TV and furniture remained undisturbed, even the plastic plants, which added a civilized touch to the museum that was Brandon's past life. Brandon expected the power to be out in the entire house, but to his astonishment, the digital alarm clock in Alex's old bedroom glowed an eerie blue, showing the correct time and current date. 
-Echo- (Brandon! Brandon! Get away from it!)
Was what Brandon heard in his mind, echoing, becoming faint as he remembered everything that happened. A part of him just wanted to cry over the loss of his brother, but another part of him, the feeling, felt no remorse. As Brandon was about to explore the rest of the house, he came across his dad's liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, a stubby glass and began drinking. Who would go through all this trouble to not have the power shut off? Doesn't the city order a house which is condemned to have its power cut off and its water discontinued? Brandon thought. His mind could register that something didn't seem right, but twitching and shaking to put the pieces together, the feeling held any deep cognition at bay. Already, it was 3:50 AM. As Brandon sat in the dark, in total silence… 
-phone rings-
The caller I.D. displayed a familiar name.
"Alex...? This can't be real..."
-Receiver click from the phone being picked up-
"Hello?"
-The phone hung back up-
-Phone rings again-
-Receiver click from being picked up. Pause-
"...Hello?"
(Female voice whispers) "I'm coming for you, Brandon…"
"Who the fu-"
-Click and change to busy tone-
Brandon sat in the darkest corner of a dimly lit biker bar. Hood over his head, he scans the small crowd that has gathered over the night. The Bartender makes note of the night being slower than usual to one of the patrons at the bar. He throws a glance towards Brandon. Brandon, lost in his thoughts continues to survey the crowd. The larger man goes over to where Brandon is sitting.
"What can I get'cha, son?"
"A pitcher of Bass, and a bottle of Jim Beam… Please."
"On the rocks or just with a shot glass?"
Brandon sipped his beer, and thoughts rushed his head.
(Inner thoughts): "Fuckers… all of them. Not a single one of the spit they're drinking… It's so simple… It would be so quick."
Brandon's fingers ran across the edge of the knife in the pocket of his hoodie. A thin cut formed on his finger, the blood reminding him for his lust for the sweet sight. 
(Distant): "Uh-huh… Who? Hold on, I'll see if he's in… Phone call for Brandon Todd. I'm looking for a Brandon Todd." 
He saw Brandon's hand raised, and gave him the phone after he went over to the bartender.
"Here, don’t take forever. We need this phone."
"Hello? ...Hello? Hello...?"
No response. However, Brandon did find out who was calling him. At the far end of the building, a beautiful woman with disheveled shoulder-length dull brown hair, which had been once cut off at Rutledge's against her will. Her cheeks are gaunt and she looks even more borderline anorexic and exhausted. Her eyes have darkened skin around them, giving the impression that she is tired or has been crying. Her suicide cuts on her once-bloody wrists appear to have been healed. 
"Looking for something, young man? I think I can help you find it."
"Really?" Brandon replied, admiring her appearance.
Brandon withdrew his hands from his hoodie which had been using to keep them warm from the chilled night air. The blood on his tongue reminded him that the previous dark-haired woman had distracted him from choosing a target at the bar. Reminding him that blood of this woman might just do for revenge. Brandon tossed the girl a Benjamin and they both went to his room.
-Door closing. With slight moan noise from free sound-
As dawn was approaching, Brandon made his way to a sleepy little house in a richer part of town. The neighbors were still sleeping, those who were getting ready to go to work at this time of the morning barely noticed Brandon, nor did they pay any attention to him. They thought he was just a regular visitor or random neighbor. Brandon hopped the fence of the house he had been laying eyes on, and made his way into the basement from outside. In this neighborhood, you could expect a very low crime rate, and everyone who lived there were honest and trusted everyone. But from Brandon's point of view, this was the perfect chance to satisfy the feeling. 324 Tottenham Court Road. The owners of the house, a young couple, were looking for a babysitter at the last moment to watch their 4-month-old baby. Luckily enough, they did find someone at such short notice. The babysitter was a sweet, 14-year-old girl, Joana. Cheerful, friendly, and kind. The baby boy was sleeping like a rock, after a bath, fresh diaper change, and changed into his baby clothes. The infant's head hit the pillow immediately thereafter. Several minutes later, Joana receives a call on the house phone. Wearily, she answers. 
-phone ringing. Receiver pick up-
(Sleepily) "Hello? huh?… Hey, when are you guys coming home?"
"We'll be back around 10:00 tomorrow morning. I hope our son wasn't too much trouble."
"No trouble at all. You never told me she was such an angel. (Yawning)"
"Told ya. Honey, you sound tired, why don't you take a nap?"
"That's a good idea. I could really use one about now."
"If you need us, we'll be at the Baglioni Hotel. You have our number." 
"Thanks."
"Have a good night's rest, sweetheart."
"Night."
Joana casually beeps the phone to end the call and tosses it onto the floor. She rests her body on the nicely cushioned, leather couch that is set in the baby's room and falls asleep. Several hours into her peaceful slumber, Joana is awaken by noise below in the basement. Thinking it was just an animal, possibly the couple's dog, she falls back asleep. But the noise becomes louder... Joana gets slightly more unnerved. She pulls her tired body from the couch and poke her head out of the doorway. Silence. She returned to the couch and laid slowly back down. Listening intently, she calmed herself down. 
Brandon entered the baby's room… Toys littered the floor of the darkened room. A single beam of light crept through the slit between the curtains, cutting the room into two, separating Brandon between the infant. Brandon continued into the darkness and peered into the crib. Brandon eyed the child, silently. Brandon brushed his gloved finger against the baby's face gently, he seems to be smiling through his white mask. 
"You are strong. You possess physical strength beyond comprehension. My master will make you a servant, like he did with me, and you will have all the power in the world. You and me together, kid. You and me..."
The baby woke to see Brandon. But, something happened.
The baby didn't cry at the site of Brandon's mask. He was actually happy to see him. Brandon felt the presence of his master behind him, for the baby was looking at it. Brandon turned, and he saw it. An emaciated, almost skeletal appearance; it's bones can be seen through it's fur-less, gray skin. It's decaying starved appearance is suggestive of a cat carcass that has been rotting for years, nd it bears a set of gnarled teeth painfully stretched into a cartoony smile.
It's yellow eyes seemed to glow in the dark.
The creature looked over the crib and Brandon can hear the baby giggle. The monster seemed to be taking a liking to children, and Brandon can see it. The creature then spoke to Brandon.
"You're an amazing young man, Brandon..." The beast said in somewhat of a spiritual voice, "This child and you are not so different."
"You're right… But I can't remember the last time I met you, though. It's all a blur now."
"Forgetting the pain you went through is convenient, though remembering it... agonizing. But recovering the truth is worth the suffering. And our Wonderland, Brandon, though damaged, is safe in memory... for now."
Brandon smiled back at his master, before leaving the home. 
A light rain began to fall as the nighttime was quickly approaching. The wind and splashing from passing cars helped to clean off the now, once again stained hoodie. The caked blood leaked of his clothing with the rain as it grew heavier and formed a small river of red behind him. The feeling that had begun so long ago was gone for now, but he knew it would be back soon. He could only think clearly for a short while. Long enough for the pieces to start falling into place. This woman from the bar that knew his name, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Even when he is trying to serve his master, he can't help but image how beautiful she looked.
The feeling was inching back into his mind. More violence. More blood. He wouldn't be able to think soon. His hands returned to his pockets. The edge of the knife that he had already cleaned and sharpened to a razor's edge. The feeling will be too much soon. He needed help, and maybe now there was finally someone who could help him. Brandon needed to return back home. The light rain had picked up to a thunderstorm by the time Brandon reached his old house at the edge of town. A crack of thunder, and a shatter of glass. Brandon was in the house. The sound of rain outside echoed through the broken window and into the house. 
He saw on the kitchen counter, a note that was thumbtacked to the wall.
"Welcome home, Brandon!"
"Huh, but I was gone for like an ho-"
-CRACK-
Brandon's world went black. He woke up in a basement full of industrial tools and assorted drills knives and hammers. The basement seemed to have been built like a class for anyone who wanted to go into carpentry. 
 "Where the hell am I…?" 
"I've been waiting a long time for this, Brandon."
The same woman from before walked in from the shadows. The same girl Brandon met before.
"Wait... It's you... I can't stop thinking about you and... Oh sweet heavenly God I just want to-"
"I told you I would be coming for you in the end… Oh, and did I mentioned, your dead brother?"
"Uuh... No." Brandon said with a confused look on his face.
Then it hit him when she said, Would be coming for him. Brandon would be furious and make death threats, but that wasn't in his caliber. He would simply whistle blow his way out of situations like this. And tonight's the right time to do so. 
"Really now… and why would you come for ME? Huh? So you can try and seduce me like any street walker?"
"Not exactly, I'm going to send you to a place where you're not going to hurt anyone else." She held a blade resembling a knife, and held it up against his throat.
Brandon just laughs.
"And they call ME nuts!" He smiles smugly, "MY body has plenty of holes as it is. Poor Alice the murderer. Her parents are dead and she's going to bitch and whine with her little knife."
"What?! How did you..?"
"You forgot... My master told me everything about you while I was under his care. I was playing you like a fiddle from Hell!"
"Sick Psychotic fuck!"
"I know you are but what am I?!"
"...11 years. I've been searching for you for 11 fucking years. Since I was 17. Since I mopped up the fucking blood off the streets of London."
"Then do it... End you're journey now and get it over with... I'll wait..."
-Knife cut. Knife cut. Brandon continues to laugh-
Alice stabbed Brandon over, and over, and over again. But she noticed that he wasn't insane, it was as if a demon had taken control of him.
"Fuck you, Brandon! Where do you get off calling me a-" 
"C'mon! What are you on?! Black eyes, white bloody skin. Ha! Just a parlor trick if you ask me. You don't do what I do without seeing some shit, lady. Demons, ghosts, smiling cats in the woods, it comes with the territory. Pathetic little teenager makes a deal with the devil, and that kind of deal doesn't come cheap. You need blood. A lot. A LOT, of blood! (Maniacal Laughter)"
The blood leaking out of Brandon's mouth dripped onto his chest and arms granting him just enough wiggle room to split his hands out of his restraints and vaulted his foot into Alice's stomach, knocking the woman the ground. Before she could move to pick herself up, Brandon continued the brutal assault by throwing the wooden chair itself at her, breaking it over her back; an act that would have crippled a lesser woman. 
"I like your play pen Alice!"
Taking a fist full of Alice's hair, Brandon began dragging her to a wooden table at the edge of the room. In her daze, her only thoughts were that this didn't go as she had envisioned it for so many years. Her only thought was to panic. 
"Really you couldn't have caught me at a better time. I've been so hungry for your blood… since I saw you in the bar…"
As he forced her arm in place, Brandon couldn't help be marvel at how her arm seemed to be made for the metal vice. It fit perfectly almost like it was made for this from the start.
-crunch of bones and a scream with Brandon's howling laughter-
The sound of snapping bones and torn muscles from woman's wrist echoed through the home. Alice frantically griped in all directions reaching for a tool of some kind, anything she can use to escape the unbearable pain. The first handle that she can fine, she camps her hand on and swings with all her strength at Brandon's legs.
"ARGH! Fuck!" He yelled out.
Brandon fell to the ground from his shattered bone. Bewildered, Alice inspects the hammer that she now has clamped tightly with her left hand. Wonder quickly gave way to pain and she was snapped back to reality. Alice desperately clawed at the vice, untwisting it as quickly as she could to free her mangled hand. She stared at the now useless appendage. The device had applied so much pressure that it split the skin and crushed every bone leaving her wrist looking like a broken balloon full of jello. 
"(Laughs; coughs) Is that the best you got, princess?!"
-drill noise. Wet blood. Brandon's scream-
"The world will thank me for this, you monster!"
The fight ensues, these weren't human beings. These were demons at war with one-another.
"I'm going to rip your fucking heart out and ram it right down your throat, YOU DIRTY WHORE!"
-Wind picking up. Thunder. Police sirens-
"Really...? You called the fucking cops, too?!"
"No, I thought YOU did!" Alice said.
Brandon picked himself shaking off the ground. Putting pressure on his leg caused a sickening crack. The pain from it was blinding but not as blinding as the feeling was at this point. Fuck the tools. The power tools, the saw, the hammers, nothing would satisfy Brandon like this would. He withdrew the knife from his pocket. 
"(Coughs up blood) Like that old saying goes. (Breaths deep) Fuck the police...!"
-Thunder-
"They took my life Brandon… They took it away from me and this moment is all that I could think about for the past 11 years. One of them being you..." 
"I haven't taken it yet. Give me another minute."
The two began bickering as they painfully ran out in the storm, through the streets, and into an old cemetery as police sirens wail after them. Brandon limped fast through the graves and Alice waited on him with hands on her sides.
"Ugh, a turtle can run faster than you."
"Just shut up and wait for my signal... God this fucking hurts! It's like a steam roller ran over my god damn leg!"
"Want me to make that happen?"
Brandon just glares at her with an annoyed look, then sighs. 
"Ugh, I would kill for a beer right now."
"Really? The cops are after us, and all you care about is you're fucking beverage."
"Doesn't hurt."
Alice groans and gives him a small container full of water.
"I carry this around me throughout my journeys, it's not beer, but it's all I got."
"...Fair enough."
He drinks the water container, and then Brandon thinks about the fight earlier on.
"God. What are we doing? We're fighting over the master, when we should join him naturally. He didn't ask for his children to brawl over his position, he asks to become a family. Brothers and sisters at arms. It's all he asked for."
Alice paused.
"You know what... You're right. We shouldn't fight over Chesh. We should become friends for now on."
"... Chesh?"
"Cheshire. Cheshire Cat. That's his name."
"The master's name is Cheshire? Sounds like 'treasure' to me. Heh."
The two smiled at Brandon's remark, then looked over that the red and blue lights in the distance, then ran further through the tombstones.
"They went through here!" Yelled one of the cops.
As the chef of police waited, he could hear the cops screaming in terror and pain. He goes over there, shotgun ready, and saw his men in blue laying in the grass and mud like a lake of gore. 
"Jesus Christ!" He tries to hold back vomit.
Suddenly, he felt his neck being slit by the large blade of a knife, and blood spirt out like a fountain of crimson red all over the grass. He fell to his knees, and then flat on his face in the rain water. 
-Lightning and thunder-
Brandon watches over his prey like a proud lion over a freshly killed zebra. Blood ran down his blade like saliva. Alice goes over to Brandon and shakes him warmly by the hand. 
"Chesh!" She said, looking over Brandon's shoulder.
"It's him..." Brandon says to Alice, "The Creature of The Night. The Black Mass. The Eater of Worlds."
The cat was sitting near the burial crypt where inside, a portal to a shattered Wonderland awaits.
"Well, Brandon, shall we?"
Brandon, looks at the portal.... Then back at Alice. Then clutches his knife in his fist.
"Hell yeah." He utters as he puts his mask on, then races out into Wonderland, ready for another adventure with Alice Liddell.
thumb|center|433 px|Story's theme song!
Category:Psychopasta
Category:Longpasta
Category:Murder