Actually, it smelt like shit, bleach, blood, and piss all at the same time.
Stacy Lamb couldn't even breathe without tasting it, which made her gag. She elected to cover her lips with her shirt, doing her best to avoid the odor. Ben Lamb, her younger brother, had already arrived prepared, with a face mask to disguise the odor. He offered it when he saw his older sister struggling, but she declined since she didn't want him to go through what she was going through.
But this place, My God, this place was awful.
The siblings were not only confronted with the dreadful scent from within, but also with extreme filth. Chairs were misplaced, tables were strewn with empty glass bottles and shots, and inappropriate clothing and objects were strewn about. And the people wandering around weren't any better.
Some wore leather, some latex, but they all wore masks.
“Stay down.”
Ben remained down, under the table, in the shadows, watching while his sister checked the corner with her pocket mirror. The corridors they were in were slightly bare and dark enough to hide in. There was no map accessible, so they had to rely on their wits and hope they didn't get caught.
Aunt Judy had to be here.
She just had to.
Stacy made a waving motion with her hand, which prompted Ben to rise from his hiding place and go directly behind her. He and Stacy both kept an eye out for anyone who might come by, as they continued deeper into the facility. A facility that appeared larger on the inside than it did on the outside. And, despite its flaws, the two were dedicated to discovering its secrets and determining what was going on once and for all.
Why is their dad involved with any of this?
Why were they being hunted?
Why were the police useless?
What is The Project?
It felt like one big conspiracy.
One that appeared to be understandable at first, but upon further investigation revealed that there was much more going on.
"Are we getting close?" Ben inquired, but Stacy brushed him off.
"I think so, Aunt Judy has to be here, did you say that she worked at this place?"
The teenager gave a shrug.
“I always heard her talking on the phone about this place, so I thought this must have been it. I didn't think it was going to be this big though, it looked a lot smaller from the outside.”
The pair strolled with their hands hovering over the wall to prevent them from wandering too far into the open. When they heard footsteps, they came to a halt, cursing themselves as they dashed into the shadows. A man in red and black walked back, a nailed bat in his hand, and he looked along the corridor for a time.
He came to a halt just where the siblings were hiding, his dark eyes tracing over the shadows for a little period of time. He remained motionless, narrowing his eyes to check if anything was wrong. They didn't move, speak, or breathe, instead staring back at the man, their hearts in their throats. They'd both been in this predicament before and knew that if they flinched, they'd be caught.
The man then shook his head and shrugged.
"Gotta get some more sleep," he said as he walked on, scratching the back of his head.
Stacy felt a tug on her shirt and looked back to see her brother tilt his head to the ceiling. Following his gaze, the young woman observed the vent from above and mentally congratulated herself as she returned her gaze to Ben. Stacy hoisted her brother up with her two hands as he managed to get on her shoulders, and the two got into position quietly.
He swiftly grasped the ventilation cover and slid it from side to side, being cautious not to create too much noise and draw attention. The metal seemed to give way, and he carefully lowered the metal opening to the ground. And, as carefully as they could, the two climbed into the vent and began to crawl.
The siblings ventured forth through the filthy vents, covered in dust, cobwebs, and dead rodents. They all cringed at the sensation of something strange beneath their naked hands. They realized that by using the vents, they could travel further than before without risk of being detected.
"Be careful," Stacy urged as her brother walked by a ventilation cover where men's voices could be heard.
The two resolved to go slowly so that their shuffle wouldn't be seen.
Despite the subject at hand, the men appeared to be having a casual chat. Surrounding them were battered lockers, both inside and out, coated with dried blood and tears.
"Who is your favorite? "Be honest, mine is Korean." One man said confidently, while the other appeared serious.
“American.”
“That’s it?”
“I have my favorites, you have yours.”
“Shit, you’re basic.”
They both laughed as the siblings entered another room and turned a corner to hear another talk.
“Please, God,” a broken voice whimpered, “Please stop. Please. Please.”
As the man wailed, there was the sound of metal scraping on metal, and a voice humming a joyous tune.
“Ah, but those cavities, they aren't going to go away on their own, are they?”
Ben took a short glance through the ventilation cover before turning away as soon as he could. Stacy battled the urge to stare as she passed by, but she couldn't help but notice what she saw. A man was fastened down to the brim of a chair, wearing nothing but his underpants.
Stacy noticed his lips were bloodied, and beside him was a plate filled with yellowed teeth.
Blood flowed beneath as a man dressed as a dentist decided what else to use on the man. He seemed happy, tapping the bleeding instruments in front of him before selecting one to use. He turned on the drill, turning to the man who struggled weakly in his shackles, asking the man to stop with what teeth he had left.
“Calm down,” the ‘dentist’ said, “You still have a root canal I need to get rid of.”
Stacy stepped forward, bile rising in her throat as she realized Ben was getting further away from her. She caught up, ignoring the other voices (battered or not) from all around to keep going. She felt terrible, the smell of these rooms getting to her, and she tried not to vomit right then and there. She saw how often her brother paused at random times, closing his mouth for a few seconds before continuing.
Judy had to be here.
Past all these disgusting rooms.
She just had to be.
Something snapped beneath them as the two proceeded through another corner. The two quickly came to a halt, refusing to move an inch, and glanced down at the source.
Ben had a crack beneath his knees.
The adolescent let out a trembling sigh as he stared at his older sister, terror in his eyes as he strained to speak. But it appeared that the shouts from below had silenced him, had silenced them both. They were muffled before a door opened, and then the voices became distinct.
“I've spoken to the man,” a confident voice said, the sound of heavy boots hitting the ground, “They got a treat for us tonight. Young. Blonde. Real pretty.”
“How young? The last one was way too old!” Another voice spoke up, as though yearning to hear that his ideal thinking of this 'young blonde' would be realized.
“She's real young,” the voice from before replied before laughing, moving over towards the other side of the room, “You should see the pictures, those curves, man, I’m telling you.”
The other voice scoffed, prompting the other man to continue.
“Well, if that won't convince you, then you can have her brother. Wimpy kid, real skinny, I know you love the skinny ones.”
There was a pause.
Ben looked at Stacy.
Stacy looked at Ben.
“Oh, and he's into that emo shit, black lipstick and everything. God, remember the last one who wore black lipstick? You spent all night on them, right?”
Oh my God, they were talking about them.
“Of course, I did, who wouldn't?”
Before they heard the sound of creaking from above, the men both laughed. One of them looked up, apparently perplexed, while the other continued to laugh, his amusement fading when he spotted the other man stop.
“What is it?”
“I thought I heard something.”
The man looked up but clicked his tongue.
“Ah, that? Rats, I'm telling you, they’re everywhere in this place. The boss doesn't want the exterminator in here since they keep getting scared off by the shit they see here, ha!”
Ben glanced at Stacy through tears, straining not to whimper, daring not to make a motion that could indicate his destiny. Stacy, a faint smile on her sweating face, raised one hand and moved it slightly to soothe her brother down. She moved in slowly, trying not to aggravate the crack, and as she drew closer, she placed her hands gingerly on her brother's legs.
Ben looked perplexed for a bit, attempting to figure out what she was doing, before coming to a startling revelation. He opened his mouth to try to stop his sister before being violently shoved, the vent quickly giving way to the pressure as he felt his sister's grip loosen completely.
Stacy shouted as she collapsed into the room below.
She landed on the hard earth below, and a wave of pain ran from her elbow to her back. She yelped as her eyesight dimmed, seeing only two men standing back in surprise at her sudden arrival. Stacy began to notice them more clearly as they got near, their estranged clothes revealing streaks of dark crimson.
Stacy looked in dread as lines of weapons appeared on the room's walls as things became clearer.
Screwdrivers, drills, knives, pistols, and even handsaws were strategically placed throughout the room as decorations. As if everyone who came in could pick and choose what they used on those unfortunate enough to be in their clutches. Some were utilized, some were not, and the remainder were haphazardly tossed about in an almost decorative manner that only appealed to the sick-minded. Stacy gagged once more as her eyes caught on the botches of scarlet beneath her, staining not just her garments but also her skin.
It was all so disgusting.
"Well, well, well…" A man with a horse mask grinned as he turned his gaze to the terrified young woman. "Look at what we have here!"
Another man wearing a cat mask grabbed her aggressively, compelling her to stay and preventing her from fleeing.
"It seems like a little mouse fell right into our claws!"
Mr.Nasty Headcanons bc I say so and no one talks about this character-
Not much is known about Mr.Nasty’s past or how he managed to get so much money to fund his work. Theories are made and the man himself has many stories that are known to conflict with each other. So it's anyone’s guess why or how this man is as messed up as he is.
He loves to make fun of his earliest works, he calls them ‘immature’ and ‘lazy’ despite them being as gory as they are.
He loves to keep his work in order and clean in his home so that he could watch them back for nostalgia. They’re tapes that are marked by their respectful titles, dates, and places they were recorded.
The only reason why Mr.Nasty knew of Starkweather’s work was by word of mouth. He didn't take it seriously before taking a look into his work, and being impressed with what he had, decided to pay him a little visit. Of course, breaking into their home while they slept was always his main course to meet them.
Now, of course, meeting up with Ramirez did result in a broken nose and arm, but, hey, Mr.Nasty honors pain so he gave him an excuse there.
Meeting up with other gangs and degenerates did result in some injury, but the man himself had to get some to make some. He had to admit, he did break into their loved ones' homes to get their attention, but, hey, he loved making an impact.
Despite his horrendous work, Mr.Nasty loves all things cute and cuddly.
Mr.Nasty does frequently go to clubs to pass the time or to take some stress off of clients being the picky bastards that they are. He used to be in one where a gang frequented, they called themselves The Pervs, and no matter how disgusting and run down their club was, it was wonderful to him.
Often, when he's bored, Mr.Nasty does sell ‘banned’ tapes, games, or even shows to kids or even older teenagers for the fun of it. He was close to getting caught but evaded the cops long enough to run off and hide like he always did.
Mr.Nasty does take care of his health despite his lifestyle saying otherwise. His dentist says that his teeth are as clean and perfect as ever without realizing that they’ve bitten some poor soul’s skin off.
What's your favorite group of hunters in Manhunt (1 and/or 2)?
Oh, I am going to RANT!
I can’t decide whether or not to love more than The Smileys and The Innocentz (Babyfaces are not included...for one of them at least...).
Okay, so obviously, The Smileys, I LOVE how just batshit insane they are. They all have distinct personalities that scare me but also interest me too much to ignore.
Barry, for example, if you look more into his voice lines you slowly get to piece his backstory. He was a drunken man that cheated on his wife, and eventually, his anger got the best of him, and killed his entire family. Because of that, he went through a mental breakdown, and as a possible coping mechanism he dresses up like his wife and acts like her.
It's so sad but at the same time, it's terrifying to think the dress he wears is the same dress his wife wore, maybe the one she wore when she died.
And then there's The Innocentz-
Oh my God, they’re fucking crazy and I love it. And I'm probably biased bc they’re Latino and I’m Latino and the shock I get hearing them scream out in Spanish will never get old for me.
I can go on and on about how each member (The Skullys basically) have distinct personalities that express who they are. They’re all drug addicts, they hallucinate God knows what, and somehow with their drug-filled minds they put on their makeup perfectly. Or even with the masks, they have zero restrictions and go out of their way to do and say what they want.
I find that interesting as well as terrifying, but with their expressive charisma, I can't help but want to learn more about them.
And the only gang I love in Manhunt 2 is just The Pervs purely because they are unapologetically perverted.
Like, you hear their name and think: ‘Okay, well, they’re perverted but they can't be that perverted.’ But they are, all of them are, and it's just the funniest but scariest thing I've ever heard.
And some are them are wearing gimp suits which I can't imagine would be comfortable but you do you. And there's just this one dude who looks like a trucker and the others are just the guys from Hostel which I can see the reference came from. And going back to the gimp suits, that dude who’s ‘Father Fist’ is responsible for my weird search history so I hope he's happy about that.
And they all say the craziest things and it's funny to me, okay, my humor is stupid like that.
“Fuck me and leave me?! Typical male!”
“Have you tried hot sauce as lube? It's intense!”
“Open up, I’m the Officer of the Law! *insert dolphin laugh here*”
I decided to draw the three since my obsession knows no bounds.
i have 104 followers on my personal blog and i maybe go on it like once a day.....i don't even have a queue set up there...i don't know how this happened
