Coming home, after having a heavy night out at the bar, Phil's friend Lawrence drove him back home. Yet again, Phil had drunk much more than he could've handled, a recurring issue that he had ever since he was released from prison. That and that his girlfriend had filed him for a restraining order against him. That bitch keeps saying it's because of my "abusive and controlling" behavior over her. I swear, Bianca, for once in your life, stop being such a pain in the ass all the goddamn time. With that attitude of yours, it's no wonder I kept hitting you. 

Of course, he was much more extreme to her than he would like to admit, but most of the time, his drunk behavior clouded his mind from that. For now, he'd been drinking away at his sorrows, trying to forget Bianca and move on with his life. I don't need that needy freak around me anymore. I can always find plenty of other bitches in the sea, he thought. In the back, he began to take out a few cigarettes from Lawrence and lit one. He breathed one in and let out a few puffs of smoke. Lawrence himself wasn't much of a smoker, as he didn't do it very often, but it was one of the few things that calmed Phil down. Nums the mind of all the pain...

"Okay, I think we're coming by your house in a moment," Lawrence said, as he kept driving. Phil was in the backseat, still fiddling around with the cigarettes, not paying attention to him. Great, still the same as usual, Lawrence thought, ticked off by it. It's bad enough that he's drowning himself in his own sorrow, now he doesn't even have the decency to treat my car right? Reckoned, he often didn't give Phil a ride home after coming home from the bar, but ever since he was released from parole, his usual friends weren't willing to. Not after they heard about the things he did in prison. Then again, I can't blame him for nearly killing those men. Prison is a hard place. You'd get eaten alive if you weren't careful.

"Thanks, Larry," Phil told him in a drowsy tone. By the time they pulled up to the house, Lawrence made sure to park in Phil's driveway.

"Alright, we're here. If you need anything, just let me know," Lawrence said, before realizing that Phil was only getting worse. "Give me a fucking moment, will you Larry? I was enjoying my last bit of smoke," Phil told him, before leaving the car and heading to his front porch. Good riddance, Larry thought. That man needs to go home and rethink his choices. He can't just treat everyone around him like shit just because he went to prison.

Phil was a man around in his late fourties, with scruffy, slightly-greying hair and an untrimmed mustache, as well as a scar on the left side of his face. Phil could hear Larry's car drive away as he opened the front door. Only, he discovered that the front door was open. What the fuck? Phil knew that he locked the door before he left. If he was sure of anything, it was that. The lock looked like it had been fiddled with. Someone might've broken in, Phi thought. He instinctively reached for his pocket knife in his back pocket and opened the blade. Just in case that fucker thinks about trying to jump me. 

He carefully entered his house, and looked around. The furniture and carpet looked like it was all in order. There didn't appear to be some kind of struggle inside, or did it look like a robber came in and took something valuable. For all he knew, the house looked mostly the same as he had left it. At least at the front, though. Phil made sure to lock the front door behind him before he went into the living room.

He could instantly tell that something was clearly wrong. His old TV was on, broadcasting nothing but static. I didn't leave this on either...Phil knew some crazy shit must've been happening. The strange thing was, though, that this felt less like a break-in and more of an elaborate trick on him. But he didn't let his guard down. I remember prison. Just when you think it's all right, some asshole jumps behind you and tries to shank you. Good thing I made sure to shank his ass right back in the showers. 

As Phil explored more of his house, in the kitchen, he found a gigantic, weird symbol on the wall left to him. The symbol looked like the scales of justice, only it looked like it had been spray-painted in a bright red color scheme. In front of the symbol was the strangest thing he saw so far: there was a wooden footstool, where a creepy doll was sitting on. The doll looked like a strange, little girl with a baby face, but instead of an ordinary doll, this one looked like it was a robotic plaything. In fact, it looked much more advanced than just a little doll. 

It looked like a clown, with a frilly top with shoulder pads, a red metallic skirt, and two pointy red shoes, each with a little bell at the end of them. The robot had red plastic-like hair with pigtails, with two rosy cheeks and red lips. It had light blue eyebrows and bright green eyes, with white skin-like metal that resembled a clown. It was around the size of a seven year old, and it was holding a small item in her hands. In her hands was a small VHS tape, with the words on it that read out, "PLAY ME", written in red.

"Is this some kind of fucking joke?!", Phil screamed, not realizing he was talking to himself. "When I find the bastard that ruined my paint job, I'm gonna drain him of all his blood," he muttered under his voice. He made sure to carefully take the tape from the robot, since he had a feeling that it would bite him for some reason. The lifeless doll didn't react, and Phil took the tape from it. Alright then, you wanna plays games, bitch? Fine. I'll play. You made a mistake picking this house. Phil decided to head to his private workspace, where he found his secret safe and loaded the combination. Then, he pulled out a pistol from the safe and loaded it with the ammo he supplied with the safe. Somebody's gonna die tonight. 

He made sure to keep his pistol handy, as he walked back towards the living room to his TV. He took the tape and placed it in the VHS player he owned. He didn't exactly have the best financial situation at the moment, so he was finding old VHS stuff that he could use to watch TV. The TV then sparked up to life, and turned from static to an image of a much different person. The speaker's face looked similar to the doll, but the speaker was much more human-like and feminine than the doll. (Artwork of Baby by SpringgirlDraws on DeviantArt. Go check out more of her work if you want to!) 

She looked very beautiful, yet her robotic appearance creeped Phil out. He could feel the clown's deep, glowing green eyes staring right into his soul. She had a lot of similar features like the doll did, like the frilly top and the skirts and the rosy cheeks, but her pigtails were much longer, and she looked much more elegant. Unlike the doll, she actually looked like a human, with a somewhat roundish face. Or at least, almost like one. At least according to what Phil could see. The TV began the audio clip. Strangely, the clown girl had a very soothing yet intimidating tone in her voice. 

"Good evening, Phil DeMoine. You might be wondering who sent you this message, and why I left that symbol in your house. Who I am should not be a concern to you. What you should be concerned with is your own survival. If you're watching this, I see you've already met my puppet, Elouise. She's practically harmless, but me, on the other hand...you wouldn't want to see me when I'm angry. Consider this tape as a warning, Phil. I know about what you did to Bianca, and those crimes you committed behind bars. I know about your unhealthy obsession with beating animals senselessly with a baseball bat. I even have a list of all the animals you've mistreated and or killed. You don't take responsibility for any of your actions. Tonight is going to be different. Tonight, we will see if you can take the pain that you dish out. I won't give away the big surprise, so I'm afraid you'll just have to wait. I suggest you prepare yourself." 

As the last part of the message ended, Phil was more confused than scared. This punk bitch thinks she can scare me? Phil had his share of threats from other prisoners in the past, so her warning wasn't anything new. Yet he was still wondering how the hell she even managed to get all of this into his home in the first place-

Right before he was about to finish his thought, he felt a very strong object hit him in the back of the head from behind. The impact was so hard that Phil hit the ground, nearly knocked unconscious, before he felt a sharp pain in his neck, and before he realized it, a sharp needle was injecting something into him, applied by a strange figure in a hooded cloak, and with seemingly steel hands...Phil slowly lost consciousness as he drifted off to sleep. 

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As he slowly woke up, Phil felt an unnerving pain across his entire body. The place around him smelled strange, almost like old burger grease mixed with decaying wood. But he slowly realized that he was standing inside of something. He couldn't place the word on what it was, though. It took a few moments for his sense to finally sharpen for him to realize that he was trapped inside of a strange-looking suit. He couldn't see very much out of it, thought. He could only see out of the two eyeholes of the helmet that was covering his head. My body is...inside something. It feels cold, hard, and very heavy. And tight. It felt as if something was holding all of his limbs and torso together firmly, and wasn't keen on letting go anytime soon. 

There was some sort of large, barrel-shaped torso of a mascot that was surrounding his chest and his backside. His arms and hands felt like they were covered in metal plating, pinned to the torso in an unnatural position. He could feel several pieces of metal pressing against his back poking him. His legs and feet were also covered in the same metal plating, feeling very tight and uncomfortable. Then there was some kind of helmet or something around his head. He could feel some more pieces of metal being pressed against the back of his head and neck. What the hell am I inside of?

Phil started getting very anxious, and tried to move around. "Hey, is anyone out there?! Get me out of this fucking thing!", he tried screaming. He continued to try and scream for help, but it was clear that no one was there at the moment. It was very hard for him to move around, as the suit was very stiff and heavy. It was clear that whoever put him inside of this trap didn't want him having free range. 

"Where the hell am I?! What is this place?! Is anyone there, for fuck's sake?!" Phil kept screaming, hoping that someone would listen to him. He was trapped within an empty room, with old sacks that used to hold food supplies, and several packages of melted ice. Looks like an abandoned freezer to me. It didn't feel cold, but he was getting claustrophobic. 

In a way, his prayers were answered, but who found him wasn't exactly what he had been hoping for. A door in front of him opened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God! Please, help me get out of-". As soon as he saw who opened the door, he went silent. 

There was a woman, probably very young, either in her early twenties or still a teenager, wearing an olive green jacket with a purple undershirt, with black combat boots, and shoulder-length brown hair. She wore a clown mask that looked almost identical to the face of the clown girl that was speaking to him on the tapes, but instead of the green eyes, this woman had glistening, wide brown eyes. Other than that, her mask looked exactly like the clown on the tape. 

"You! You're the bitch from the tape! You're the reason I'm stuck in this thing!", Phil screamed, angrily trying to get to the woman, yet still could barely move. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Move around too much, I meant," the woman said, in a much less threatening and more of a serious tone. "That's not an order. That's just a suggestion. It will save you a lot of pain and blood, that's for sure." 

"Listen here! Why the fuck am I here?! Please, for the love of God, get this suit off of me already!", Phil kept screaming. 

"I'm not the same woman you saw on the tapes. My mask looks like her, yes, but I am merely her apprentice in training," the woman told him, getting closer to him. Phil noticed that she was holding a tape player and another tape in her hand. "This is my chance to prove myself to my master." 

"You're taking orders from a clown robot? What kind of cultist bitch are you?", Phil asked. 

"Never call me that again. She is the one I work with directly. But we both serve the same master. He told me to give you his message he left. Oh, and before we start, please try not to make a mess. It would really save me the time of having to leave the calling card and cleaning up the evidence," the woman told him. 

"Make a mess?" 

By that time, the woman pulled out the tape and put it into the tape player. The voice started playing. This voice was much different from the clown girl's and the cult girl's. This voice sounded more distorted, deep, and very intimidating.

"Hello, Phil. You are no stranger to abuse and torment. You've assaulted several prisoners back during your sentence, some of which deserved their pain, others which weren't deserving of it. You've murdered mere animals just to get a hint of joy out of it, to find something to fill that empty void inside of you. And because of that urge, it has consumed you to the point where you started getting bored of animals and moved on to human targets, even abusing your own girlfriend. She still bears those scars to this day. Abuse is a serious crime, Phil, especially repeated abuse. It labels you as a monster, a sick, twisted psychopath that no one wants to be around."

The woman then pulled out the blueprints to what looked like the suit Phil was trapped in. 

"The suit you're trapped inside is a springlock suit, one that I modified specifically to end your life much quicker. If you move around too much, the springlocks holding back the sharp metal and plastic parts holding you in place in the suit will snap. Those parts will instantly jam right into your body. It will puncture your organs all over, and even sever your own vocal cords, and as you try to scream, your lungs will be filled with your own blood until you finally drown in it. The key to escape is simple. If you can successfully solve the puzzle I've set out for you and type the code into the remote to stop the timers I've put into your suit from going off in the next three minutes, you will be free to take it off, and my associate will free you from this building. Keep in mind that taking the suit off without the timers being deactivated will automatically trigger the springlocks. But if not...you'll end up in a bloody mess, and your death will be a very slow and painful one. My advice is to take it slow and steady. End of message."

Phil started squirming around and screaming even more. "Are y-you fucking serious?! This thing's gonna kill me?! Who do you think you are?!" He started trying harder than ever to break free of the suit, but couldn't. 

The woman placed a remote into his hands, as he held onto it firmly. "This is the remote where you will type in the code. There are five digits you need to type in. Look around the room to find what you need. That's what the numbers on the wall are for." She pointed around to the wide amount of numbers in the room, each with a different color. 

"H-how am I supposed to figure out which number I'm supposed to type in?!", Phil said frantically. 

"Simple. My master wrote a special poem to help you figure out which numbers you need to place and in what order you need to choose them, so I'll let you hear it before the timers begin. Word of advice: listen to it slowly and think about the words being used," she told him. She pulled out a piece of paper, reading the poem aloud.

"The lone sun's bright light shines in the morning. The magic ball sees into your future. Do not let your mortal sins get the best of you. On this day, the sun, moon and stars came into existence. Ten sheep jump over the moon at the end of the day, then one of them gets eaten by a wolf." 

"W-what...WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!", Phil screamed from the top of his lungs. "That bullshit doesn't mean anything!" 

"I already told you: the numbers have been given to you. You just need to decipher the clue and figure out which numbers the clues are alluding to. It's possible, I'll let you know that," the woman said. "Take your time to listen and figure out what each clue means. Oh, by the way, now you have around two minutes and forty-five seconds. I suggest you hurry, Phil." She also gave him the riddle so he could decipher it for himself. 

Fuck, think, THINK! As the time kept running out, he could feel the suit around him getting looser, losing its grip. He had slight more room to move around, but he tried not to move too much. Think already! Okay, ten sheep over the moon, minus one of them, that's nine. The end of the day is the last digit, so the last digit must be nine. We've got one so far, good! Keep FUCKING GOING, he screamed at himself in his mind. 

The lone sun's bright light...morning...this one goes at the front. The start of the day, the start of the digit combo. If the sun is lone, then there's only one of them, so the first digit must be one! Okay, two digits ready, now for the other damn three! The timer in the room was pointed at two minutes remaining. He had to act fast before time ran out completely. He could feel the metal plates and machinery surrounding his body start to get looser, but could feel a slight sharp pain in his back. This gave him the kick he needed to keep going. 

Okay, next, the magic ball sees into your future, think, damn it...a magic ball...black ball. Black magic 8 ball, of course!! Those pool games were more useful than I thought! Okay, so its 1, 8, two more, then 9! Keep going! We've got no time to lose! "Don't let your mortal sins get the best of you". Mortal sins, think, my mortal sins, okay, the seven deadly sins! Of course! He looked again at the clock, and saw that he only had one minute remaining. He started moving back and forth much more hectically, trying to solve this last piece of the puzzle. 

"On this day, the sun, moon and starts were made". Think, what kind of day is this talking about?! Genesis, that's it! On the fourth day, the sun, moon and stars were made! That's 4! Anxiously, he typed in the final code into the remote. 1, 8, 7, 4, 9, please let this be right...

As soon as he entered the code, the timer on the wall stopped, as well as the timers inside of the springlock suit. Phil only had twenty seconds left to spare on the clock. "WOOH!!" Phil couldn't help but prematurely celebrate his 'glory' for surviving, before the masked woman told him otherwise. 

"You've only completed the easy part, dumbass. The riddle was the safe part. Now comes the REAL part of the test."

"What, no!! I passed the test fair and square! That guy said you would take this off if I passed!"

The woman then looked him dead in the eye. "No. My master said if you stopped the timers, you would be free to take. It. Off. He said nothing about me having to help you. And by the way, there was one key thing I didn't mention to you earlier. The longer the timer runs, the looser the springlocks in the suit become. And the looser the springlocks, the higher chance that it will snap and kill you instantly. This is the real part of the test. Can you successfully pull off the suit, or will you screw up and kill yourself by accident?" 

"Oh you mother-". Phil didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, since he didn't want to waste his breath on her. He tried to slowly find to take off the helmet he was wearing, until he felt another sharp pain near the back of his head. He stood frozen, his skin ice cold, waiting for the sensation to stop. When it finally did, Phil tried to find a way to get off the torso first, so he carefully tried to move his hands towards his back, to feel for any way to take off the metallic suit. It probably didn't help that he was starting to sweat underneath that heavy suit, before he made one last attempt to take off his torso. He didn't realize it, but the sweat was only making the springlocks un-tighten even more-

*SNAP*

In an instant, Phil felt his entire body getting impaled, as the sharp mechanical pieces of the suit jammed straight into his skin and torso. He felt his arms and his hands being deeply cut, as the mechanical suit began to tear apart his tissue, muscles, and cause massive bleeding. His legs were also crushed, as he could feel his knee-caps give out from pain and collapsing to the floors. He screamed out in massive agony, wishing that the pain would all be over soon. 

"Please, please, help me! I don't want to d-d-d-d-d-". Phil soon had trouble speaking, as he felt a new sharp pain stabbing into his neck and windpipe. The suit had severed his own vocal cords. Phil tried to scream again, but could only gargle as more blood gushed out from his mouth. He could start to feel the rest of his torso slowly being impaled and crushed by the suit, as his pain only increased. It was the worst pain that Phil had ever experienced in his life. Even all of the things he experienced in prison weren't nearly as painful as this. He tried to get up, but the agony was so severe that his arms and legs gave out a second time, as he continued to gurgle as a plea for help. Soon enough, the suit started leaking out lots of his blood. He could slowly feel his lungs fill up with his own blood, as it became increasingly harder and harder for him to breathe...

"I don't want to either, Phil. But you chose your path when you began to hurt others, to put your needs above everyone else. Your anger and insecurity made you hurt others so you could feel better about yourself, when you were making life hell for countless people around you. So many people don't care about the consequences of their actions. Not until it comes to bite them back. Just like with you, Phil. I gave you a chance, but sadly, you have chosen death," the woman said. In a few minutes of more gargling and agony, Phil had finally bled out entirely. A brutal end, yet a fitting one for him, the woman thought. 

Next to the suit, now soaked and surrounded in a puddle of Phil's blood, the woman drew out the symbol of the scales of justice from his blood. Our calling card has been placed. The games are only beginning.