[center [size14 [font "Minion Pro" There was no story to be told, no past to recall. The Potion Maker simply did not exist until a ritual successfully summoned him.
[center [size14 [font "Minion Pro" The hotel would begin to tremor - lights flickering while the television faded in and out of it's connection to the channel - the white noise accompanied by deeply distorted voices that couldn't be understood.
The Potion maker appeared, corners and pieces of his body fading in and out like a poorly projected hologram. His voice was deep and unworldly, and he spoke a language no mortal could decipher; Certain syllables and sounds seemed impossible for a human mouth to make. Then, after a few moments of silence, a hand pressed over his face in frustration -
He began to cry.
[center [pic https://i.ibb.co/vzbwLzr/seiphuscry.jpg]]
The tears were unnatural, a glimmering purple, almost slime-like in texture. They slid down his face as he began to whine. [b [i "No.. no no no not like this.."]]
He wept as if he were attempting to stifle the tears, groaning and clenching his teeth as if enough strong growls would scare away his weakened state. His body was no longer fading, his bare feet pressed firmly to the ground while the flecks of white danced all around him, whirling as if enraged.
[center [pic https://i.ibb.co/1XB7nNj/cry2.jpg]]
[b [size16 " H̡̨̲̠̊̈́͆̿o̹̯̲̦̔͋̒͝w̩̬̭̠͋̈̾̓ ̫͓̙̲͌̿̍͂d̬̟̱͉͑̌̎̆ ͉͇̬̔̏͊̈́ͅa̡̻͍̣͊͒̒̈́r͙͍̙̬̂͊̅̊ȩ̧̢̖̿̿̉̈ ̪̗̮͓̿̾̃̀ỳ̧͖̩̫̃̌̓ỗ̯͚͖̯͑̕ứ͎̼̣̱͌͂ ͓̮͕̻̒͊̏͗ ̛̻͉̺̻̔͊̕b͍̭̤͓͆̎̈́͝ ̢͉͖̤̿̓̕͠r̞̩̩̬͑́̂̉ ̧̛̬̤̬̒̉͒i͎̻̠̺̇͛̔̈́ ̣͚̳̀͊̆͛ͅn̢̖̹͍̽̐̓͂g̟̼̭̅̂͘̚ͅ ̠̬̘̫̋̑͒̌m̥̱͔̻̒̈́̋̾é͕̣̖͕̔͝͠ ̱̩̹̓̈̐̽͜h̘̫͔̠̊͐͑̑ ̨̹͍̗̌͋́̾ȩ̝̻̳͌̓̚͝ ̡̨͙̪̽́͗̐r̗̘͚̼̈́̀́͐ ̘̣̝̯͐̀͐̏é̢̨̱̳̊̈́̋ ̰̭̗̼̇̓̽̕.̧̘͉̲̐̿̔̇ ̧̲̥̤̎̄̄̔ --- s̢̟̳̤̑̐͊̚ĥ̛͕̥̘̰̅͆ ̡̛̗̰͓͑̾́e̢̥̙̖͗̂̊͠ ̜̫̦̙́̌͐͠d͓̤̦́͛̿͗ͅi̡̗͖͂̊̓̔͜ḝ̛̠̻̲̎͝s̠͙̺̳̑̈́̂͝ ̦̞̳͛̅̓̋ͅb͖̟̣͚͌̒̿̚ ̞̱͚͍͆͗̈́̾e̢̬̥͍̐̌̑̀ ̢̱̟̠͊͂̃̕c̢̧͖̪͋́͋͠a̱͖͖̲̋̈́͐͝u̧͍͇̯̓̏͋͝ş̙̙͑͂̀͐͜ȩ̞̪̥̈́̆͝͝ ̳̙͉̤́̈̒̎ǫ̭͎̰̀̋̋͝f̮̹̣͎͒̅̇́ ͉̠͙̝͌̾͝͝ ̡̭͇̘̓͊͊̄y̛̫̺̺͉͒͊̚ ͍͇͖̝̏́̿̋o̼̲̼̯͌̐̄̃ ̥̙̥̒̀͌͘͜ù̡͖͙͓͒̇̃ ̝̻̩̳̑̀̑͊.̨̭̰̂̌͒͒ͅ"]]
As soon as he speaks the sentence, the glowing in his eyes and in his tears begin to fade. He looks around, confused for a moment, then offering a kind of amused smile as he wipes the tears from his eyes. [b "What happened? I heard something about games and now my head hurts."] Glancing around, he immediately notices above all else - The PSP. If his eye's were glowing before, they had gone full shimmer now. [b "What is [i that]] He asked with renewed interest. He nearly lunged towards it, picking the device up and rotating it in every other direction - touching the backing he jolted as he popped open the back and a tiny game disc popped out. [b " [i WHAT!"]]
[center [pic https://i-h2.pinimg.com/564x/a2/bd/0c/a2bd0c077b327ae2e8aa23bea11a87ca.jpg]]
[b "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle [i all the way~"]]
They might have screamed, if not for the green duct tape over their lips.
[b "OH, what fun, it is to ride-"] continued her captor's merry song from just a few feet away. Parts of the song were drown out by the sounds of shattering glass and crunching plastic as he [i redecorated] their Christmas tree. At his feet lay a sledgehammer, and tightly within his grasp lay a large hatchet; He alternated between the two until all that was left of the tree was a sea of glass, pine needles, and mulched wood.
He hated Christmas.
Not for any particular reason, of course. Sethus simply hated the idea that all these families were celebrating lies. They lumped Yule together with various other customs and holidays, threw them in a raffle basket, and called it Christmas.
He was glad to show them the difference betwixt their precious Christ and his Unholy Father.
His attention turned, then, to his victims. They lay against the stone fireplace, sweating and whimpering from behind thick layers of the aforementioned tape. [b "It's January now, y'know. Do your lies really need to be on display in your windows this far past Christmas? Hm?"] he asked, feigning concern. He leaned toward the woman's face and enjoyed the flinch on her part. Yes, yes! He grinned. [b "Am I scaring you? Well that just won't do!"]
With this, he pulled free a sewing kit from the pocket of his jacket, spattered with blood. [b "I'll make sure you never have to look at anything scary ever again. I have important work to do but I have to wait two weeks, so I have some time free to play with you all."] came the deep, low purr, petting her son and her husband's heads with his free hand. Her husband looked enraged, savagely so. Yes, if he got free, he would no doubt kill the intruder in cold blood.
He slid a knife from the same pocket, and cut their son free. His lips were still taped down but Seth had gently cut the same tape free of the young man's hands and ankles. He then willed the sledgehammer to come forth with his hand, and it drifted forward and lay at the boy's - preteen's?- feet, although the boy seemed to have a bit of trouble lifting it at first. His parents looked mortified and confused all at once.
Seth stood, twirling his hatchet to and fro in his hands. [b "If they try to run away, I'll have to kill them, you see. So! Are you ready to help, junior? If you help me out, I won't kill anyone. How does that sound?"]
Seth turned on their radio and set it nearly to max volume, the sounds of muffled screaming and of snapping ankles drowned out by cheery, relaxing reggae beats.
[b [size15 TWO WEEKS AFTER TICKET SUBMISSION]]
Today was the day.
He awoke with a smile, turning to look upon the bed beside his. Curled in a ball was one young Henry Winston, with bags under his eyes and a tremble that could shake the earth to its core. He could see him shaking under the bright white sheets of the hotel's ritzy comforter, and decided to turn up the heat. Everyone was looking for the kid, after all.
Sethus had kept his promise; He hadn't killed anyone.
He turned on the TV, found a news station, and turned it all the way up, watching his little partner in crime from the corner of his eye.
[i "-weeks ago, a tragedy took place at the Winston household. The bodies of Theodore and Sarah Winston were found horribly broken inside their home. Their eyes were sewn shut, implying it might have been a personal crime. Local authorities have been unable to collect prints or DNA, as it seems the intruder used wax to cover over any trace of himself. Police say the suspect must have entered through an unlocked window, and are advising people in the area to lock their own. With their son missing and with the nature of his parents deaths, local police say they cannot rule out the son's involvement-"]
He shut off the TV, watching Henry shudder and sob in silence. [b "Tell me Henry, what would make you feel better?"] he crooned, pulling the blanket away from the boy. His hair had been dyed since the incident, now strawberry blonde rather than brunette. Haggard as he was, he looked nothing like the boy featured on the news.
[i "I didn't mean to do it! I'm really sorry, I want to go back home!"]
He laughed, and laughed, and laughed. By the time he was done laughing, Henry had sniffles his way back to sleep. Poor fool.
He dressed himself and lounged about the sitting room that took up most of the larhe hotel room, seeing as how he'd emptied the Winston family funds in another victim's account and turned it into cash from there. As usual, he watched the authorities run about like roaches, desperate to connect the dots but failing at every turn.
Ah, but the Potion Maker would be coming soon! He emptied the fruits of his efforts onto the table, unsure what to expect. A fistful of 3DS games, his PSP and the games that went with it, and a packet of soy sauce.
Yes. That sounded good right about now. Sethus picked up the phone and answered with his usual charismatic smile. [b "Yes, please place an order for me. I'd like two large orders of shrimp lo mein, three orders of General Tsao's chicken, three orders of beef skewers, a bag of egg rolls, and... uh. What do kids eat...? Nuggets? Er, a large pork fried rice and if you could, I need nuggets for my little brother."] he added with a chuckle, ending the call after the woman at the desk had confirmed what he'd be needing.
Yes, perfect. This was good, very good. Shrimp was good, chicken was great. He had games, and there was even a disposable human boy he could offer, should the Potion Maker have use for one. He wondered why he'd kept Henry, he should have killed him after the kid had taken his parents out. Ah, but that would be a waste. He had the makings of a fine killer! Had he even told Henry to hit his parents in their heads? This boy had potential!
After some sitting and some wondering and a few rounds of Mario 3DLand, the food came. As he was laying it out on the roomy table, a rush of anxiety hit him like an avalanche, though cowering in terror was better left to people who could comprehend fear and anxiety for what they were. Seth loved it. It was an inferiority, for certain, after all he was only a mortal man. The Potion Maker had come, as he had hoped they might! Images of his father stained his memory like red wine on white sheets, and the chanting of his father's followers echoed in his ears as dread welled up from within his gut.
Hopefully the Potion Maker didn't mind human blood. He set his 3DS down on the table.
[b "I hope you like games! I have so many!"] he said excitedly, holding his churning stomach despite it all.