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Welcome back to FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY where every Friday two of our favorite horror movie Baddies will face off against each other for your enjoyment! I have devised eight-man brackets, each with its own theme, and the winner of each bracket will go on to the finals for the chance to become FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY’S “King of the Monsters!”
When that’s said and done, we will have a bonus Hero bracket! The winning hero will earn the right to try and slay our “King of the Monsters” in a one-shot battle for the ages! For a quick rundown of the rules, click here! To catch up on past fights, click here and type in FRIGHT FIGHT FRIDAY!
Today is round #2 of our Human bracket! Both of today's competitors are sadistic and completely twisted. I present to you PAPA JUPITER VS THE COLLECTOR! Let's go!
PAPA JUPITER
The leader of the “Hill People” a murderous, cannibalistic family of mutants, Papa Jupiter is no stranger to violence. Born a monster (in the original film) his father left him for dead in the hills after he murdered his sister and all the animals on the farm.
Papa Jupiter survived though and had children with a crazy prostitute who all become cannibals. (They say the family that eats together…)
Papa Jupiter and his family of grotesque mutants survive by trapping and killing tourists. They are sadistic and enjoy torturing and hurting people. Papa Jupiter is stronger than the average man and is skilled in hunting and tracking.
He is vicious and animalistic when angry and loves to eat his victims. Don’t turn your back on Papa Jupiter. He’s one to take advantage of the moment and finish you with one savage blow.
THE COLLECTOR
The Collector's real name is unknown. A truly psychotic murderer who likes to “collect” people, and then make arrangements and morbid displays out of them. (Shaped like bugs, of course, because he and his daddy were both entomologists.)
He will enter a home before his victims return, booby-trapping it meticulously and waiting. He kills everybody in the home, except one person who he stuffs into an orange footlocker and takes back to his “collection.”
He is skilled in hand to hand combat, weaponry, boobytraps and has brute strength. He also exhibits no fear. This guy is one sick pup. Sadistic and brutal, he takes pleasure in mutilating people.
FIGHT
The older model RV still smells of blood as he drives down the dirt road. The vehicle bounces with every lump and rock in its path, causing the tired shocks to creak and moan.
“Where are you taking me?” The man’s voice is weak and labored. His white polo golf-shirt is ripped at the collar and stained with dried, deep brown blood. His face is covered in more than a five o’clock shadow.
The man driving removes a wallet from the pocket of his brown trench coat and flips the worn leather open, removing a license.
“Hey, is that my…?”
“2024 Cypress lane.” He folds the wallet and places it back in his rear pocket.
A cold, fleeting, terror comes over the wounded man. That’s his address. They’re heading to his house, but why? He didn’t even know what this man wanted, if he even wanted anything at all. “You’ve killed my whole God damn family you son of a bitch! There’s nothing left at my house!”
The stranger takes the wallet out again this time, sliding out a picture. He holds it out, showing it to the man. A family portrait of him, his wife, their fifteen-year-old son, and eighteen-year-old daughter. With his eyes only half on the road, the killer turns and places his finger over the daughters head. “Tisk, tisk, tisk,” replies the stranger solemnly.
“You leave her alone! You hear me! Stay away from her!” He receives no reply as the man goes back to driving. “Hey! You hear me, asshole?”
The RV slows down, gradually coming to a stop. The driver grabs his bloodsoaked pickaxe and stands up.
“No. OK, I’m sorry, I…” Suddenly, everything goes black…
The house is completely dark as she pulls into the driveway. It’s a little weird having the place all to herself, but even weirder not going on the family vacation for the first time in, well, ever. Her guilt is immediately abandoned as headlights appear in her rearview mirror. Her boyfriend, Todd. Right on time as usual.
She steps out of the car, her long brown hair shining in the moonlight.
“Hey, gorgeous. Brought us a little something” His face lights up devilishly as he holds up a bottle of wine.”
She smiles warmly, giving him a kiss on the lips. “Fancy,” she laughs.
“You’re sure your parents won’t be back tonight?”
“What’s wrong? Scared of my dad?”
“Yeah. A little. I mean…”
“Relax, they’ll be gone until Sunday night, which means…” she bops the tip of his nose playfully with her index finger “…we have the place all to ourselves.”
“Yeah well, if they come home early, I’m jumping out a window. Fair warning.”
He follows her to the front door as she fumbles for the key in her purse. For no reason other than mindless habit, he reaches for the handle, giving it a jiggle. “It’s unlocked.”
“What? It can’t be. My dad would never…” She grabs the handle herself and turns it, opening the door.
“Strange.”
“You are sure nobody’s here, right?”
“Yeah. Well, at least nobody’s supposed to be here. Unless my brother skipped out on the trip, too.”
The house is dark, but she calls out to her brother anyways as she turns on the kitchen light. “David? Are you here?” She turns back to Todd, “I guess they just left the door unlocked. That’s really not like my dad, though.” She glances around the room inquisitively.
“It happens. It’s a quiet neighborhood, anyway. They were probably just in a hurry.”
“Yeah…” She replies, not really believing it. “Right. Hey, can you go up to my room and grab the Bluetooth speaker? I’ll find my mom’s wine glasses and pour us a little.”
“Yeah, sure. Be right back.”
He makes his way up the stairs, not bothering to turn the hallway light on. In truth, he had snuck in and out of this house so many times, he didn’t need the light. Jackie’s room was at the end of the hallway across from the bathroom, after her parents’ and brother’s rooms. He figured her dad arranged it that way on purpose so if she ever tried to sneak out, she would have to get past him. Not once, but twice.
He gets to the end of the hall and enters her room. She usually keeps the speaker on her nightstand on the other side of the bed. He takes a step forward and is immediately inundated with a sharp, excruciating pain in his right ankle. The vividly wet sound of bone cracking mixed with a metal clang is enough to make him feel sick. Stars shoot across his field of vision as he topples to the side, reaching for his ankle.
He lands on the ground hard as another sharp pain shoots up his arm. He screams as the cold metal closes around his wrist, almost severing it entirely.
The scream startles Jackie in the kitchen, and she drops the wine bottle to the floor. It shatters, spilling the blood-red wine on to the grey linoleum. “Todd?”
“Fuck! Help me, quick!”
Jackie runs to the stairs, turning on the light as she goes up. “Todd, what happened? Are you OK?’” She can hear the sounds of him moaning in pain, faint at first, then growing louder as she gets closer. The light in the hallway is spilling into her room through the open door just enough to illuminate the blood-soaked scene. “What the fuck?”
“Jackie don’t come in here. Fucking bear traps all over the floor. I stepped in one.” His tone is strained, his breath is coarse. The pool of blood around him is thick and filled with visible clots. Sweat beads on his forehead in bold drops, running down into his bloodshot red eyes and mixing with the tears.
“OK, don’t move. I’m going to get you out of there.” She kneels to take a closer look. The teeth are jagged and have clearly been filed down by hand. Someone took the time to do this. A chill goes through her body at the thought. “These teeth have been sharpened.”
“Why would your brother do this?” His voice is now merely above a whisper.
“What?” Jackie looks Todd in the eyes. “My brother didn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.” She tries pulling the trap around his ankle apart.
“Shit!” He winces from the pain.
“Sorry. I can’t… it won’t budge. I’m gonna call an ambulance, they’ll be here fast. Just hold on, OK?” She reaches in her pocket for her cell phone. “Shit. I left my phone on the counter downstairs. I’ll be right back.” She glances at Todd nervously before rushing down the stairs. He was becoming pale and she didn’t like how fast he was losing blood.
Her phone isn’t on the kitchen counter, but she’s almost positive that it was before she ran upstairs. She checks the floor and the kitchen table. Nothing. “Damn it.”
Well, her dad always said that having a house phone would come in handy one day. Of course, she never thought for a minute that he’d be right. She lifts the cordless handset from its cradle and as she does, a sharp, stinging pain shoots through her four fingers as well as the meat of her hand where it folds. The two places she gripped the phone with. A trail of blood runs down her arm, reaching her elbow and then dripping on to the floor.
“Son of a bitch!” She loosens her grip slowly, biting her lip to stifle a scream as the razor blades retract from her skin. She looks down at the bloody phone, her mangled hand is shaking and barely able to hold on to it. “What the fuck?” Someone put two razor blades on each edge of the phone and the sadistic son of a bitch stuck them in there good to hide them. But who would do that? A sudden twinge in her hand causes the phone to drop the floor.
She wraps her hand in a dish towel to slow the bleeding and with another towel, she wipes off the phone and places it to her ear. No dial tone. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
She thinks for a moment. Realizing Todd has a cell phone in his pocket upstairs, she makes her way back up to her room. “Todd, let me see your phone. I can’t find mine and…” She stops short, almost choking on her own words. He was… gone.
“Todd?” Her voice is high pitched and wavering. “Where the hell are you?” A trail of blood leads into the master bedroom. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She follows the trail to her parent’s door, takes a deep breath, and enters the room.
Next to her parents’ queen-sized bed is a strange, orange footlocker that she didn’t recognize. Muffled cries can be heard coming from inside of it. She rushes over to it, terrified of what might be inside. “Todd?”
“O…Ackie… ont…oh-en…ip!”
She flips the top of the orange box open, revealing Todd. HE’s been gagged and looks only half alive. She feels a crash and then a pressure at her back. Breathing becomes impossible. She looks down to see the tips of four, extremely large knives sticking out of her chest in a square-shaped pattern. Blood drips from her mouth as she stares at Todd with a look of bewilderment. She removes his gag with her last, fleeting bit of energy and collapses to the floor. The knives make a sound like squeezing the last bit of shampoo out of the bottle as they exit her soft body.
The chandelier, the fancy one that her mother was so fond of, had been jimmy-rigged to the footlocker, knives had been fastened to it carefully to ensure they would all hit their mark when released.
“No… I told you no,” he sobs as his girlfriend lay dying on the floor. “I said ‘No Jackie. Don’t open it.’ Why did you open it? Why?”
The room is completely silent, and as he sits listening to Jackie’s final breaths from inside the orange box, a man appears above him wearing a tight, black latex mask and slams the lid shut.
The house is completely dark as the RV pulls into the driveway. “I told you, no one is here.” The headlights reflect off two cars parked in the front of the house.
“Then who’s that?”
“I, I don’t know.”
Papa Jupiter looks at him, shaking his head. “Well, why don’t we just go and find out?” He grabs the pickaxe from the floor and opens the door. “Oh, and Peter? If you try anything, I’m going to make you watch me eat your small intestine.”
The calmness with which he makes this statement chills Peter to the very core of his soul. “Why are you doing this?”
Papa Jupiter seems amused by the question. The look on his face is both childish and evil. “Why not?” He asks Peter in return. “Besides, you came to our town, ran over our dog and then your wife stabbed my cousin.”
“That’s because he was going to fucking rape her, you psycho!”
Papa Jupiter backhands Peter across the face. “You don’t be talking bad about my family, now.”
“Fuck you.” Peter spits a gob of blood in Papa Jupiter’s face. “And fuck your family.”
“No Peter, you see…” He wipes the blood from his face, licking his fingers. “Your family is fucked. Mine is just fine. Well, except for my cousin, but your wife paid for that didn’t she?” He looks back toward the van. “Maybe I should go get her, or at least the pieces left of her to remind you what happens if you fuck with me. What do you think?” He gestures toward the house, “Now, go on. Let’s get this over with.”
“I’m not going in there with you. I’m not letting you in my home. You’ll just have to kill me.”
“Peter, I’m gonna kill you anyway. Then I’ll just go in through a window and kill your daughter, oh so slowly and painfully. But first, before I make her beg for her miserable death, I’ll fucking roast you like a pig and feed your tiny little cock to her! Would you prefer it that way?”
Realizing the cold and frightening truth in the man’s words, he leads the way to the front door. He opens it and steps into the kitchen. Pretending to hold himself up with the counter he moves slowly along it, sliding his hand toward the strainer. Jackie never put the dishes away. It usually infuriated him but as he slides the knife out of the strainer, he’s thinking he might forgive her.
He spins around, the knife pointed outright as Papa Jupiter brings the pointy end of the pickaxe down hard into his forehead. Peter collapses to his knees, then forward on to the floor. The mutant rolls him over and places his boot under his chin, pulling on the handle until the pickaxe finally snaps free with a disgusting suction sound.
“I’ve been living in the dark my whole life, you stupid motherfucker! Did you think I wouldn’t see that knife?” He wipes the mixture of blood and brain matter stuck to the blade on to his already dirty jeans and looks around the house.
At the top of the stairs, he notices the master bedroom door is ajar. There is a young woman, dead on the floor. Her blood is still draining from her body. A broken chandelier is on the floor next to her. He notices the knives attached to it and bends down to feel the body. Still warm. Damn it, he’s too late.
He turns to exit the room, but a man is now blocking the doorway. He’s tall and wearing a latex mask tied in the back. His presence is menacing, his body fills the doorway.
“Who the fuck are you?” Papa Jupiter stands up, pickaxe in one hand hanging at his side.
The man reveals a knife as he bends his neck at an angle.
“You took my kill, asshole.”
The man stays silent, staring at Papa Jupiter as if waiting for something.
“What do you want?”
Still, the man just stares.
Papa Jupiter runs toward him, swinging the pickaxe and screaming wildly. The Collector grabs the handle and stabs the mutant leader in the stomach with his other hand. He goes down to one knee relinquishing the pickaxe but is back to his feet quickly.
Turning as fast as he can, he staggers down the hall looking for something he can use as a weapon. Seeing that the room at the end is full of bear traps, he opens the door in the middle. He heads for the window and tries opening it. Blood pours from the tips of his fingers instantly as rusty carpet nails dig into the flesh. Another boobytrap. He grabs the bedsheet and turns on the standing light next to the bed.
The light explodes next to his head, sending pieces of glass into his face like shrapnel from a grenade while simultaneously blinding him for the moment. He screams out in both surprise and pain. His left eye throbs, and he can feel the warm, wet blood dripping down his face. With his right hand, he slowly and steadily slides a small jagged piece of glass from his eye, wiggling it back and forth to loosen it as he pulls. The pain is like nothing he’s ever felt and for a moment he thinks he might pass out.
He manages to stay conscious and somehow regain a bit of his strength. Enraged and half-blind, he notices the masked man watching him from the doorway. He tosses to the piece of bloody glass to the floor. “You getting off on this, you sick fuck?”
The Collector disappears down the hallway as if inviting Papa Jupiter to come play more of his twisted games. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you hear me?” The mutant heads to the hall, the bedsheet still in his hand. “Come out and here and fight like a man, you coward!”
Figuring the man uses traps because he doesn’t care for confrontation, Papa Jupiter heads to the last room in the hall. He leans down ties a beartrap to the sheet, creating a makeshift, and quite deadly weapon. He stays still, waiting until he hears the footsteps get close enough.
One last step and… Papa Jupiter springs up and swings the beartrap as hard as he can. It connects with the Collector's head, knocking him to the ground instantly. Blood trickles at first, then flows from under him in a thick stream. Papa Jupiter kicks him hard in the chest. “You son of a bitch, take that!” He drops the beartrap and looks down. “I got something for you, asshole. Gonna take my time with you. Eat you piece by tiny fucking piece!”
He heads downstairs to get his chainsaw out of the car. He always traveled with one in the chance of an impromptu meal showing up. The back door is closer to where the RV is parked so he slides the glass door open and steps his foot down on the welcome mat. The words “Home is love” are written across it. As he puts his weight down, he hears a click. ‘What the…”
The explosion is large enough to destroy half the house. The flames light up the dark night as sirens blare in the background. As he turns off the street, he passes fire trucks and a few cop cars, their lights flashing intensely as he looks in the rearview mirror of the RV. The driver leans forward, turning on the radio. As he listens to a report of an explosion and possible casualties in the area, he rolls down his window, tossing out a black latex mask. It blows in the wind, dancing across the empty street as the taillights disappear into the distance.
THE COLLECTOR
OK, for me this one came down to a couple of factors. Number one, the Collector is so damn meticulous. He would absolutely have every entrance and exit covered and even if you beat him, you still might not survive his traps.
Of course, there are scenarios where Papa Jupiter would come out on top because half of any fight is luck. Still, I feel the Collector would outwit him every time. Maybe even play his anger and animalistic nature against him. Also, Papa Jupiter can fight but he isn’t all that tough. He’s just mutated and twisted. Even if you stripped away the Collectors traps and cat and mouse nature, he still has a decent size advantage over the mutant.
I give this one to the collector, better luck next time Papa Jupiter! What do you guys think? Am I completely off here? Who was your money on? Yell at me in the comments and let me know! See you back here next Friday for round #3 of our Human bracket! PATRICK BATEMAN VS NORMAN BATES, in the “Battle of the Psychos!” Place your predictions in the comments and until next time, keep on geekin’ on my friends!
Joshua “Prometheus” Scafidi
