PHONE DAVE REWRITTEN PROLOGUE
The Saferoom smelled of iron.
A scent so oppressive and unbearable even a man with no nose like Peter had to turn away.
His plan had succeeded, the desperate bid to get rid of the aubergine killer once and for all, it had been simple once he had fired his other employee, although even now he wondered why the man had simply left.
Peter had never thought it would get to this point, that he’d actually KILL a man, even one as sickening as this.
Even when the blood of all the aubergine’s victims was still warm, it was hard to stop hearing the screams.
Peter had not expected screams, maybe he should have, but he had assumed that the aubergine would go down treating even death as just another joke. How he wished that were true. If Dave had joked as he died it would have been easy to push aside in his mind, Dave wasn’t human, he wasn’t hurting.
Peter sat down in front of the body. Dave was moving, staring at him, but he couldn’t stand, the suit was too heavy.
Men came into the room to drag Peter away and all the thoughts he had been holding back spilled out.
“WAIT! DON’T SCRAP ME!!!”
“Give us one reason not to.”
“S-see that body? That’s Dave Miller, the Kiddie Strangler.”
There is a moment of silence.
“Good work Scott, you will be receiving a promotion for this.”
“Good now just let me seal-“
“Grab the body, oh and that other one, the janitor he buried in the parking lot.”
“Wait wh- NO! NO NO NO!!! You can’t!!!” Peter watches in horror as the corpse that had just been in front of him was dragged out and shoved to the back of a truck, followed by the recently buried Jimbo.
“If you send-“ Peter is cut off when he too is shoved in the back of the truck, the door closes to leave him in darkness.
“W’s y’rrr br’thr…” a voice slurs from in the truck, Peter looks around, eyes landing on Dave’s corpse.
Reed… that had been the name his employee had identified himself by.
“Reed… Reed is my brother?” Peter asked with some skepticism. The corpse just stares at him, offering no answer. It was a long drive after that.
100 feet of stolid steel plating composing a large metal cylinder in the back of the Scott Memorial Machine, in the metal a clear face can be seen, looking as if it were asleep, but could wake at any moment.
Peter stared up at the face in something like awe, or maybe terror.
He had seen Jimbo run through, it took mere minutes.
1000 phones in a single afternoon. That’s what the man had said. It made no sense. Who would ever… need so many? Why was the machine so big?
He looked down at his name tag. He owned it now. The phone who had never wanted to send a single person to the factory now owned all of it.
It had taken hours to strip Dave from the suit, hours more to recover him after h tried to run, but now he was tied down, screaming and crying for any mercy. He deserved none, they all knew that. But they also all knew Peter was a bleeding heart.
There is a phone on the table in front of Peter, purple with white accents. Metal. Heavy. He looks up in confusion at the employees. His employees.
“Sorry sir, it’s the last one in stock. A lot of people have been getting sent in lately and we haven’t had a chance.”
“But it’s metal… it’ll be so heavy-“
“He deserves worse, plus we used to make metal phones back in the day all the time.”
“I… ok… just… put it in the machine and get it started.”
As commanded the employees shoves the phone into a chute, and gives a thumbs up to another employee who throws Dave into the pit.
The same horrible metallic screeches as he had once heard with the departed Jimbo are present again. But louder. Far louder. He hears screams in the machine, it sounds like Dave is trying with all his might to escape.
Peter winces, it’s a hard sound to hear…
Because of all the attempts at escape, what normally takes 3 minutes to complete now took 45 minutes. 45 minutes of Dave screaming and crying in the machine, begging to be let out.
At long last a phone actually comes out of the machine.
Peter stares down with caution, he knows what Dave is like. He wouldn’t be shocked if he went right back to his old self.
The phone sits up, shaking and nearly falling over a few times.
There’s just so much wrong with this phone.
The metallic purple head is pulling the body down, causing him to be constantly on the verge of losing balance. There seems to be an area in the midsection that is barely more than a spine with skin wrapped around it. His entire body has shrunk like clothing in the wash, phones have a height cap. He violated it and the machine went overboard correcting it, he seems to be just observing, silently staring up at Peter.
“Hello? Hello? Hello?” The sound of a voice box pierces the air… what? “I am Model 51_2. How may I be of service?”
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