Better Luck Next Time! // Creepypasta x lucky reader

Ch42

With a few confused blinks a grin crosses my features, "God damn BEN, you're my knight in shining armor."

The gratitude is short, as the harsh sting of the collar sizzles the nerves around my neck. The familiar current of electricity running through my body seized my muscles tight, barely granting my option of throwing myself into the mouth of Spector Containment.

The ominous cold atmosphere lines my arms with goosebumps, the cold metal plated floor feels frozen against my cheek as my body convulses with the electrocution.

I can hear my captors mumbling to one another from above me, a knee embedded firmly between my shoulder blade and my hands pinned above my head. The burning subsides, leaving my body numb and vision blurry with speckles.

So frustrating. I can't think properly for a way to get out of this, mind muddled, my fingers are numb, the ringing in my ears drowns out the reality around me.

My eyes lock with the gaze of gold, with Puppeteers, his eyes glowing sinisterly from behind the tinted glass, flick down to mine, his brow scrunching as he places a hand against the glass barrier, smacking his fist against it with a snarl.

I chuckle, blinking away more of the fog, my subtle jerks earn a tighter bund from my capture, I groan at the man above me for being stingy, my glare shifting from his riot helmet to the speaker looking down at me right behind his head.

"Just one...", a muffled mumble from my lips draws the attention from the guardsmen, two pull me to my feet from my shoulders. I brace my body from their shoving, stalling, I look to the ceiling, "Just one containment, come on."

The speaker squeaks to life, the audio crackly and illegible. I can nearly make out BEN's childish giggle.

"Anything for you babe."

The unpleasant sound of clashing metal assaults my still ringing ears, the glass to The Puppeteer's containment slides open like automated doors, releasing the black shadow of a man who steps out of the threshold with slow and wide strides, his gaze at his feet.

The guard's attention is no longer on the incapacitated patient in their grasp, the ghostly threat before them chosen to be far more dangerous than some measly human.

Rightfully so. The men had not the time to get their guns in the air.

The Puppeteer's slow glance is enough to have my blood freeze. His near black figure drowns in the background as his eyes open wide and a brilliant smile blinds us with its dazzling gold glow. It's mesmerizing to watch the threads that seem to appear from the darkness, swaying through the air as though it is webbing, a fine strand that coils and compresses around the limbs of my assailants. Silent and quick. Undetectable.

The contact of the string wiped them out of there daze, bringing them back to their current predicament at hand. They tugged and pulled on the strings that latch onto their bodies, uselessly discharging their ammunition at the apparition before them, obviously not equipped or skilled enough to handle such a being like a spector, despairing as the shells fail to leave a simple nick on the ghostly body.

I would be scared had I not known Jonathan was on my side, had I not marveled at those before me who's limbs twist about like plastic figures, who's flesh excretes blood like a wrung-out hand cloth. The threads golden glow sinking through the stretched flesh, yet failed to penetrate the solidness of the bone, leaving my four assailants to dangle upright.

Swinging forth like a marionette.

I would be envious had I detest such pain.

I stand myself as it quiets down, dusting my drenched uniform in a futile act of presentation. My vision sways slightly, but not enough to discourage me from marveling at the twisted bodies ascended from the ground.