Groggily, Ghost began to come around. His head felt as if it'd just been pulled from a vise grip. He opened his eyes to find the room blurred and spinning. The scent of peppermint mixed with some kind of strong acrylic paint entered his nose. He couldn't decide whether the sensation was making the spinning worse or not. It slowly began to settle down, but when he was able to make out his surroundings, he wasn't sure if being able to see again was a good thing.

He had to guess his captor had somehow removed his contacts while he was asleep. Even when the room finally sat still, he had to squint to make out anything. There looked to be incomplete figures hung from the ceiling. Based on what he'd seen earlier in the train, he had to guess they were doll parts, or something similar. 

Ghost looked to the one light source of the room, of which was coming from his right. He could make out the outline of a man hunched over a workbench. That's when he started to remember exactly what happened. Panic set in to run, even if he couldn't see when he was going. Upon attempting to move, he came to the heart wrenching realization that his hands were tied down to his chair. The clanking made from his struggle attracted his kidnapper's attention.

Ryan glanced over his shoulder briefly to see Ghost awake. He returned to his work just as quickly, speaking in a soft yet deep voice, "I wouldn't struggle too much if I were you. The noise distracts me, and I wouldn't want to slip when I have sharp objects so close to your friend's face." 

Ghost stared in his general direction, paralyzed by what he'd said. He was so calm about it, as if it was a mundane topic. As much as Ghost loved horror movies and often had his nose deep in a gore novel, he never wanted to live in one. Those types of things, the tales of fiction, they don't happen in real life. At least, he never thought they did, and he certainly never considered they'd ever happen to him.

"It's alright to speak, you know. As long as you keep your voice down, I can still work. I just don't like any loud, startling noises. I'm sure you must have questions." He said.

How was he so... normal, about this? He literally knifed Ricky and is holding them both hostage. Yet, there he remained, speaking as if it was Sunday brunch. Ghost's teeth trembled, his lips quavering like a crying child's. How was he supposed to have a conversation with a maniac? The fact that he was acting so nonchalant was making it worse, actually. Maybe if he was acting as crazy as he is, he wouldn't seem so intimidating.

"Wh-Who- Who are you?" Ghost finally stammered out, "An-And what'd you want with us?"

"My name is Ryan. I'm a dollmaker, and a child of the dark arts. Normally, when people come down here, I euthanize them and use their body for materials. Lucky for you, you're not good candidates for recycling. Given the amount of tattoos you both had, your skin wouldn't be of much use to me. I can also tell your friend has had some health problems in the past. Do you know anything about that?" 

He swallowed hard, "He, um, he's an ex-smoker. He got ulcers a few times from it, and I remember him being in the hospital a few times for other things, but I can't remember what they were." 

"I see. Thank you." Ryan responded, "His organs most likely have a lot of damage, which is all the more reason why I need to fix him up. I can see it in you, as well. You've been hard on your body, but in a much different way than your friend. Regardless, you'll still be less work."

"What are you planning to do to us?" He shakily asked.

"I told you, I'm going to fix you. I want you in good shape before allowing my baby to play with you. You see, I've lived down here for a very, very long time, to say the least. I created so many dolls, and figurines, and ornaments, but I still felt as if there was a hole in my heart that dolls couldn't fill. So, I created a doll that was living to keep me company. 

Unfortunately, sometimes my work takes me away from him, and he gets quite bored. He gets overly curious about the outside world too, and has tried to wonder off a few times. Once you've healed, it'll be your job to entertain him and watch him. He can only have the best, and that's why I must fix your imperfections."

Though he'd probably be better off not knowing the answer, he dared to purpose the question anyways. "And how are you going to fix us?"

"I'll have different plans for both of you, considering you're different people. For you, I'm thinking I'll remove a few bottom ribs to help pull in your waist tighter, along with tightening some other things." He muttered, then continued on, "I'll smooth out your skin as well, and paint it, and I'm thinking longer hair would look best too. Most importantly, I'm going to replace your eyes, so you don't have to rely on contacts and you'll be able to see in the dark a little bit better. 

Eventually, I'll replace your skin with porcelain. Unfortunately, I haven't found a method for it that allows me to preserve tattoos. I can turn porcelain into skin, but I haven't found a good way to reverse the process. I'll most likely replace some of your friend's organs when I have healthier ones available, too." 

Ghost didn't know what the Hell to say in response to that. He wasn't sure what was worse, either. Losing ribs sounded bad enough, but it was probably the prospect of having his eyes replaced that was the most horrifying. His heart was beating fast enough to fall from his chest. There was no way out of this, either. Even if he somehow, by some fucking miracle, got free and managed to run, he had no clue how to get out of there.

Ryan must know there tunnels like an expert, if he's lived down here so long. Chances are he was the one that switched the signs to confuse explorers. If he was smart enough to do that, he most definitely had taken other measures to make sure people remained trapped down here. The only thing scarier than just plain crazy is an evil genius. Ghost fell quiet and began to ruminate over his inevitable fate.

It's not like Ryan really minded too much. He loved to speak of his work and his most prized possession because he rarely got to, but it was a joy to fall into quiet as well. What Ghost, thankfully, couldn't see was the bloody work he was doing on Ricky. The part Ghost was most disgusted by, the removal and replacement of their eyes, was currently occurring beneath Ryan's lamp. 

He'd already cut through the sclera, which acted like a protective film over the eye. Carefully, he cut into the rectus muscles and tendons that held the eyeball in place. Ricky did had very beautiful eyes for a human, but there was always room for improvement. When the eye finally prolapsed, giving Ryan access to the optic nerve, he wasn't even bothered. Your average person probably would've thrown up by now, but to him, it was just work. He'd done this to plenty of humans already, as evident by the jars along the right wall filled with fluids and body parts. 

After some time passed, filled with Ghost softly crying to himself, he decided there was nothing he could do to change his course. He might as well suck it up and try his best to make conversation with Ryan. As upset as he was, he recognized the fact that he was lucky enough to get to live. From the sounds of it, he and Ricky would be the first ones Ryan's allowed to survive. Ghost remembered what he'd said about not liking loud noise while he was working and he made it a point to speak quietly.

He sniffled to himself, forcing out words, even though they made him feel like he was going to puke. "The... person, that we saw sleeping on the train, is that your living doll?"

"Yes," Ryan responded, changing tools as he did so, "His name is Chris. I created him about three years ago. He's actually very smart for having the mind of a toddler. Granted, supernatural beings are naturally going to be more advanced. Still, it's important for you to remember, even though he has the body of an adult, he's still a child."

"Oh... So, there's nothing like... Sexual between you two, right?"

Ryan chuckled, "Do you seriously think I went to the trouble to create a living toy just to have someone to talk to? Don't ever kid yourself. He may have a young mind, and I do carter to it, but my beauty loves to get on his knees for me. Oh, and he's good at it." Ghost could hear the hunger in his voice as he talked about it. He nearly purred, asking, "But you're no stranger to having your mouth full, now, are you?"

Ghost felt sickened, oddly. Normally, he had no regret or fear in admitted his whoreish ways. "...How could you tell?"

"I have my ways. Has he ever fucked you? Or is he just a friend?" 

"Uh- Ricky? No, he's just a friend. He's asked me out a few times and he flirts with me, but I just want him as a friend." He said.

"That may change, if my baby so wishes it." Ryan set down the scalpel in his hand and slowly stepped over to his captured beauty. He leaned in close enough that Ghost could see him clearly, even without his contacts or glasses. "I have a feeling he wants you two to be his goth Barbie and Ken. If that's what he wants, it's what you give him. Understood?"

"...Yes, Sir."

"Good. If you upset my sweet angel, I will make you pay. I'm sure, in your sexual exploits, you've felt a good amount of pain, but it's nothing compared to what I can do to you." His breath was cold along Ghost's skin, laced with the ice of his minty gum. 

Ryan backed away slowly, running his fingertips along his arms as he did so. Ghost was utterly terrified, and for the first time in a long time, actually longing for death. After feeling that evil creature loom over him, he was even more shaken, and even a tad aroused. Ghost wasn't fully sure if Ryan was human. Up until an hour ago, he would've never even considered the possibility of him being anything else. He seemed human enough, but he was obviously capable of darker things.