Lionel glanced down at the cleaver buried in his shoulder. It felt like a mosquito bite. Actually, not even that. Just… nothing.
Ever since he started learning voodoo from the old lady, his life had taken a sharp turn into so seriously weird territory. In this day and age it was hard to find materials with real spiritual power, so he'd figured out sothing even better.
He was the material.
He'd started experinting with ways to push his own body to the limit. First rule the old lady drilled into him: eat like your life depended on it. Not just to replace energy, but to strengthen the weird, living voodoo doll his body had beco.
While digging through the old grimoires, he discovered sothing hilarious. All the "positive" blessing spells had insane requirents—pure love, pure hope, and a success rate that made lottery tickets look reliable. But the nasty, harmful spells? Those were stupidly easy. A little piece of soone's body and so everyday bad vibes were all you needed. And in modern Arica, bad vibes were basically free and everywhere.
So Lionel had taken the negative spells and twisted them into sothing useful for himself.
Like the one he just used.
A spell that instantly shut off pain and physical sensation. Normally it needed a whole ritual setup, but when the caster was the material, most of the steps vanished. One thought and it was done.
The second the shadow figure raised the cleaver, Lionel had already killed his pain receptors.
The big man froze when Lionel didn't even flinch. Then he yanked the blade free and swung again.
Lionel wasn't giving him another shot. He twisted aside, pulled two bone knives from his belt, and slashed the attacker's arm in quick, precise cuts. The blades had blood grooves—perfect for collecting samples.
He jumped back, dipped his fingers in the dark liquid on the steel, and started saring it across his own face while drawing complicated voodoo symbols in the air. All while dodging the heavy swings.
Just as he finished the last stroke, the cleaver slamd into his chest.
Thwack!
Two wet tearing sounds rang out at the sa ti—one from Lionel's torso, the other from the attacker's.
The big man looked down in confusion at the deep, matching wound across his own chest. For the first ti he actually stopped moving.
Lionel grinned wide. "Bet you didn't see that coming."
Without hesitation he drove both bone knives deep into his own thighs.
Thump! Thump!
The attacker's body jerked violently. Two identical holes appeared in his legs, black liquid oozing out.
The spell linked their injuries. Whatever Lionel did to himself, the attacker felt the sa.
Most normal people would've dropped screaming. This guy just staggered once, then got pissed off like a toddler and threw the cleaver on the ground. He turned and bolted deeper into the basent.
"What the hell? Why isn't he feeling anything?" Lionel muttered, watching the giant run.
He wasn't about to play tag with so pain-immune monster. Ti to run and get backup.
He spun and sprinted for the stairs.
The second he turned, the roar of a chainsaw engine exploded behind him.
Oh shit.
Lionel looked back just in ti to see the huge figure charging with a running chainsaw raised high.
From upstairs, Nikki's voice called down. "Lionel? Did you find Kenny?"
Lionel didn't slow down. "Get away from the door! Now!"
He scrambled up the basent stairs on all fours.
Nikki was still standing there, confused by the engine noise and shouting. Her reaction was half a second too slow.
The mont Lionel burst out of the basent, the chainsaw-wielding figure slamd the spinning blade straight into his back. It tore through at and bone like butter and exploded out the front of his chest in a fountain of red.
At the exact sa ti, an identical wound ripped open across the attacker's own chest.
Blood sprayed everywhere—Nikki got hit full in the face.
She let out a blood-curdling scream, eyes rolled back, and dropped like a sack of bricks.
The crash finally pulled Luke and the others out of the kitchen.
Luke took one look at the hulking figure in the human-skin mask holding a still-running chainsaw and froze.
Leatherface?
Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Seriously? What were the odds?
Impaled on the chainsaw and dangling in mid-air, Lionel slowly turned his head, spotted Luke, and spoke in the calst voice possible.
"Bro… little help here?"
Luke snapped out of it and charged.
He planted a vicious kick into Leatherface's leg. The giant dropped to one knee. Before he could recover, Luke kicked the spinning chainsaw itself with everything he had.
The force ripped the blade out of Lionel's body and sent both him and the chainsaw flying across the room.
Leatherface stared at his empty hands, then at Luke, and turned tail.
"Running already?" Luke growled and took off after him.
Brando and Rayne were rushing toward Lionel—only to watch the kid push himself off the floor, chainsaw still buried in his chest, and start jogging after Luke like it was just another Tuesday.
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