Hellraiser: Collector

By

Blind Cenobite

"What's your pleasure, sir?"

"You know what I want. The box!"

The old man just smiled. "Of course. Take it."

The doctor walked contently away from the table, clutching the precious enigma to his chest. He could feel it's dark power beckoning his hands to open it.

"Soon." The doctor held back an evil grin as he slowly pressed his thumbs to the Lamnent configuration. Channard had no idea where it would lead him.

"Sept. 15, 1985 The Gazette Disappearance at Channard Institute. Dr. Channard, a renowned neurologist who ran the Channard Mental Institution has apparently vanished. Authorities have no leads on his possible whereabouts, but after searching his home, want to hold Channard for questioning. A bloody mattress was discovered in his position and the police suspect Dr. Channard may have been the victim of foul play. The mattress, which was marked with a county evidence tag signed by Detective Ronston, was support to have been destroyed after examination, but the coroner's office never received it. Detective Ronston, who declined comment, is the lead investigator of the Cotton murders, and the mattress is said to have come from the scene of those murders. Larry Cotton...."

"Hey, Dave! How long are you gonna sit and stare at that thing? We gota go!"

"Huh? Oh sorry, Chris. I guess I spaced out." Dave exhaustedly rubbed his eyes and shut off the computer "By the way, man, this is a library. Try and keep it down."

"Yeah, well if we don't get there by ten, he'll go on without us." Chris said.

"Where are we going?"

"To see The Collector. He said he has something he knows is right up your alley."

Dave readjusted his glasses and looked back at the monitor, the image of Channard's macabre office still burned his eyes as they walked.

"You know they'll never find him." Dave said nonchalantly.

"Him who?"

"That doctor, the one who vanished 16 years ago. Channard."

"Dude, you need to pick up some safer hobbies." Chris said, laughingly.

In the car Dave thought the windows were going to shatter from the reverberation of the metal pounding against them. Chris was head banging at every stop, as usual, and his long blond hair thrashed against the windshield.

"Chris. CHRIS. CHRIS!" Dave shouted.

"What!" he hesitantly turned down the volume.

"How do you know if this guy is the real deal?"

"The Collector? I asked him that, too. But just look what he gave me. Open up the glove box." Dave opened the compartment and a gold puzzle box fell into his lap. The intricate gold patterns shimmered in the lights of passing buildings. Somehow, it had a strange beauty about it, as if it was holding back something very powerful.

"Well, this is the place." Chris grabbed the box and the two faced the waterfront. The only building amongst the rubble was a small black house without a window to be seen. It was nearly invisible as the starless night sky camouflaged its form.

"He said to just come right in." Both carefully walked on the decimated remains of homes until they reached the door. Once inside, the interior was not as expected. Candelabras hung from a narrow mirrored hallway where symphonic music could be heard playing softly.

"Ah, gentlemen, welcome to my humble abode." a dark figure spoke from the end of the hall. "I trust you found it without hassle."

"You The Collector?" Dave asked. The man stepped closer to the light exposing his weathered features and black formal suit. His slick black hair contrasted his ancient face as the skeletal figure stood to great his guests.

"Who is this, Christopher?" asked The Collector.

"This is Dave, he's the friend I told you about. The connoisseur of weird info." The old man uttered a laugh that Dave thought sounded more like a hoarse cough.

"Well my boy, as they say, the more the merrier. Now if you don't mind, may I have the box I gave you?" Chris hesitantly handed the old man the box. "Excellent. Follow me please." They followed The Collector down the unending hall, when he stopped suddenly and the candelabras began to extinguish themselves, exhausting all light.

"Hey! What's goin' on?" Chris asked.

"Do not fret. We are here." Slowly light from the ceiling began to illuminate a round black room with one door way and a two-way mirror across from them. In the center were ten black pedestals, all but one holding a box identical to the one The Collector was holding. Dave looked behind him and noticed that the hallway or any other exit had disappeared.

"How did we get here?" Dave questioned. Again, The Collector laughed that dry, atrophied laugh as he returned the box to its proper pedestal.

"Gentlemen, these supposed toys are what is know as the Lamnent configuration. Each one opens doors and that is exactly why I chose you. You are here because you wanted to know what lies behind those doors. Now I will show you." The Collector reached into his left pocket and pulled out a faded diagram. "Christopher, since you are so eager, you will go first. Choose a box, follow the instructions and all of your questions will be answered." Dave stopped his friend's hand from taking the parchment.

"Hey man, let's get outta here. You don't have to do what this walking corpse says."

"Oh, I believe you are mistaken, young man." The Collector pulled a large-caliber pistol from his right pocket and motioned Chris to the boxes. "David, you come with me. Your friend may be awhile." Dave walked to the door with The Collector jamming his gun into his back. As they entered, all of the images from the computer file came back. This was exactly like Channard's office! The bloody mattress hung on the wall opposite a chair on the reverse side of the two-way mirror.

"Do you like the decor? From the look on your face, I can assume that you are familiar with late Dr. Channard. Yes, the good doctor was a former pupil of mine. Unfortunately, he was much to impatient; always had to see always had to know." Dave was watching Chris slowly walk around each pillar, carefully choosing a box. He saw noticed the mattress out of the corner of his eye.

"That mattress. I heard what Channard did with it. He resurrected somebody by having a mental patient spill his blood all over it. Is that what you plan on doing? Bringing back some poor soul to guide you through hell?" Dave asked.

"Oh no," The Collector said casually, "I keep it as a reminder of when to learn from your mistakes. You see, David, I am not as old as you may think. The boxes have a certain...connection with their owner. They want to be opened, and they tug at you down to your soul to open them. I have spent a lifetime collecting them and resisting that pull. Which is why my body is in such a pathetic state. They have prematurely aged my body as consequence for exposure to so many of them. Oooo, I do believe that your friend has chosen a box! Please, sit and watch!" Dave sat down and The Collector stood behind him, holding the gun against the back of his head.

"So why puzzle boxes? And what's with the diagram, I thought the whole point of a puzzle was to solve it yourself?"

"I told you these are no ordinary boxes. They open doors to the pleasures of heaven or hell." The Collector explained. "Do you think that you are the first ones I have brought here? There are many ways to open them, and I have recorded each. Eventually I will find a gateway to hell that does not evolve my death, and I shall live outside the cold hands of time forever in hell! Eternal life, can you imagine it!"

"Are you crazy, is that your problem." The Collector's grin vanished as he clicked the hammer back.

Chris was sitting on the floor in the middle of the pedestals, slowly running his hands over the box, the parchment resting in his lap as he worked. Dave could feel the air growing colder, though there was no ventilation coming into the room. The light around the gallery dimmed until only Chris remained visible. Suddenly, the box jumped from his hands in an electric spark. Light poured from a hole opening in the floor in front of him and an elevator-like contraption arose from the abyss. Its outer pattern matched that of the boxes, but the interior contents could not be seen. Chris stood to attain a better view of the compartment he had summoned.

"For god sakes. Chris, don't go in there!" Dave attempted to stand, but was pushed back down in his chair.

"He can't hear you" The Collector grinned in anticipation of what was to come. Chris wearily stuck his arm out in front of the device. He could smell a pungent odor of rotting meat coming from the darkness. Before he could react, a metal claw rose from the floor and jammed itself into is lower back. He was thrust screaming into the chamber, which was no quite visible. It held an array of iron spikes, tubes, clawed biological anomalies, and flesh hanging from hooks. Chris was turned to face forward as two metal stakes came around the sides of his head. The spikes were thrust into his eyes as his body was being pierced and drained by the other torture equipment. Chris's screams were muffled by a whirling, blender-like noise as the chamber rotated and descended back into the void.

"Noooooooo!!!!! You..." Dave tried to turn, but The Collector only held the gun tighter to his head.

"Your friends demise was entertaining, however disappointing. Perhaps I will see him once he is completed. But enough talk, now it is your turn." The Collector allowed Dave to rise and motioned him to the door. "Don't forget this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another faded diagram of the Lamnent configuration.

"I'll get you for this, I swear it." Dave grimaced as he reluctantly accepted the parchment and walked back into the main room to do The Collector's bidding. He found the puzzle box which Chris had solved lying on the floor. Its golden features had been blemished by his friend's blood. Dave kicked it aside in disgust as he chose a box and sat down. Following the diagram was harder than he had expected. IT was like trying to fight against instinct as he forced his fingers to the required positions. The box clicked and moved mysteriously as Dave's hands circled it. Then, as he came upon the last position, Dave flung the puzzle box behind him, shattering the two-way mirror where The Collector sat. In the hail of broken glass, The Collector aimed his pistol at Dave.

"Now you've done it!" Before he fired all of the light vanished. The sound of wood warping was barely audible as pale light poured from in-between the cracks in the walls. All of the preserve jars imploded and the books flew from the shelves. The Collector leapt from the confines of his office and joined Dave in the gallery, pointing the gun in the box's direction. They could still hear the Lamnent configuration clicking and working out its last motions. From behind, the wall split and opened, flooding the gallery with pale blue light. The pair turned to see a figure slowly walking towards them. He wore a black leather robe, had six open wounds on his chest, and his face was adorned with a grid of wounds. They both stood horrified and they noticed that pins were hammered into his skull at the intersections of each cut.

"Which one of you opened the box?" the cenobite's voice commanded. The Collector dropped his pistol and fell to his knees. Dave seized the moment and snatched the gun.

"Great Xipe Totec, it was him! He opened the box!" A black chain shot from the light, catching The Collector's hand. Pinhead looked down at the old man.

"Flesh is flesh. Suffering is suffering. He may have opened the box, but you are guilty of hoarding them. They do not belong here, Collector, and neither do you."

More hooked chains flew and attached themselves to the Collector's flesh, stretching his skin from off the fascia. Dave, still weary from shock, began pounding the walls in a desperate hope of finding some exit from this madness.

"Wait!" Pinhead shouted, "Why run, David. You know, as well as I that this fascinates you. The world beyond light, beyond the confines of human understanding, it is what you thrive on." The cenobite raised his hand and the chains pulled the mutilated Collector howling into the light. "Look around you, David." Pinhead stopped at one of the boxes on its pedestal and began to caress the intricate carvings.

"You stand witness to an incredible opportunity. There is more knowledge confined within each box to satisfy even your intellectual hunger. To know the secrets that lie within the glory of suffering."

Dave gave up in desperation and slid helplessly to the floor. His hands began to involuntarily tremble and the gun fell loose from his fingers. The pistol discharged, it's bullet ricocheting wildly, sliding the half-solved box from the office back to the gallery.

"You lie!" Dave shouted. The cenobite roared in laughter.

"Come now, resistance is not your strong suit. Or perhaps you enjoy all of this as much as I?" Pinhead reached down and picked up the Lamnent configuration, which called him. "Finish the puzzle, David, and I will cast off the shackles of this world which has shunned your desire. Their flesh shall be an open bible to our wills.

The box was placed in Dave's hands, the cenobite's persuasions beginning to crack his facade. But before either one could react, the Lamnent configuration began to reverse itself, attempting to close the door it had opened.

"Quickly boy! Finish what was started!" Black chains narrowly missed Dave's head in Pinhead's effort to hurry him along. The box jumped from Dave's hands, rearranged, and shot the cenobite back into the light. Finally, the door was sealed and the box remained still. Dave sat alone in the pitch darkness questioning the validity of what had just happened. Slowly, he regained his composure, and light returned to reveal the mirrored hall; candelabras still lit as if nothing had happened.

"How and the hell..." Dave left the blackened house more skeptical than he entered. As Dave passed his friend's vehicle, he turned to catch one last glimpse of The Collector's home. Ten straight lines of orange light shot from the building in a circular pattern followed by a sound of agony so horrid, Dave now found himself running through the gravel of the waterfront. He knew in his heart of hearts what he must do now.

"What's your pleasure, sir." The customer unfolded a faded parchment diagram from his pocket.

"This. Do you have it?"

"Yes, you are in luck. Enjoy."

Dave walked contently away from the table, clutching the precious enigma to his chest. He remembered the dark power, which had first beckoned his hands to open it.

"Soon." he thought, "I'll find you."

The End?