Casey Butler and The Return of Claw All roads led me here. To this abandoned building, in Brownsville. If people are going missing, of course it'd be Brownsville. Cops don't care about Brownsville. People steal, and murder, and no one lifts a finger. Every lead, pointed me hear. It's been four years since my, I guess you could call it, my ordeal. Spent some time overseas, lived a little bit of life. Spending a year at my villa in France I then decided to travel all over the world. After that I came back to New York, and got certified as a P.I. My name is Casey Butler, I'm twenty-eight years old. The scenario is all too familiar. A girl, a runner, goes missing. A message sent from her phone to anyone who'd go looking for her. It happened to me. What's different here is, the people in her life actually care about her. The thing is though, the MO, while strikingly similar, has to be the work of a copy cat. It has to be. My blonde hair is now cut into a spiky crop. I'm wearing a khaki two-tone denim military jacket, over my red, long sleeve t-shirt. I'm wearing ripped black jeans, and navy Italian ankle boots. Ray-bans sunglasses complete the package. I checked somethings out. Alexis Birch, the missing twenty year old, was last seen by a passerby here. It was reported to the police, but due to the building being abandoned and searched already, it was unlikely she was there. It was some sort of mental health institute. But, the funding was cut, and the ill were tossed away, like trash. But, I did some digging. Found out there was power still being fed to the building. How do cops miss that? I step out of my car, and walk to the front door. And surprise, surprise, it's unlocked. It's dark, and cold inside, so I pull out my handgun, and flashlight. This is the lobby, where the families of the admitted would wait to see their relatives or friends. I make my way to a stairway, seeing light pouring in from the second floor. Quickly , and quietly, I move upward. If the woman's kidnapper is still here, I'd rather not let him or her know someone is here. Each room, where the patient would live, is stripped clean. No furniture, or beds or sheets. Someone was here recently though. Lights are on, and there's fresh coffee in the rec room. "Come on, where are you," I mutter to myself, gun at the ready. Maybe I'm not the type to own a gun. Always been of a violent sort. But, this is the kind of situation that requires an itchy trigger finger. Then I hear it. A moan. A muffled hum. It's so close, that I can feel the sound echo in my bones. I walk down the empty hallway, following the sound. I kick open the door, where I'm certain the noise is coming from. And there she is. She's wearing a straitjacket, and forced onto her knees, with a chain wrapped around her waist, connected to her ankles. Her mouth is covered with a muzzle, and her eyes are covered with a blindfold. I walk up to her, kneeling, placing my gun on the floor. "It'll be okay," I try to assure her. She's been missing for two weeks, so I'm not exactly sure of that. Who knows what's been done to her. I unstrap her gag, letting it fall to the floor. "Are you her?" She asks, her lips dry, and her voice horse. "Depends what you mean by her," I say confused. Why would she asking about anyone? Why not her kidnapper. "Alexis, sweetie, please tell me what you mean." "Let me see you. Please, I can answer when I see you," she dictates. I pull the blindfold from her eyes, and let them adjust to the light. "You are her. You're Casey. She said you'd come. Showed me pictures of what you look like. Kept telling me you'd come." My heart skips a beat. Please, God, don't let this be what I think it is. "Alexis, please," I say, panic filling my voice. "What was this woman's name. Tell me." "She made me call her Mistress. Mistress Claw." Oh god. Oh god. Horrible memories of my time in her captivity flash through my mind. How did she managed to escape the Pit? I reach for my phone. Need to call the cops. Call anybody. I try dialing 911, but the signal doesn't get thru. That's never a good thing. "We need to go, Alexis, let me get you out of this thing, and we leave, okay?" I inform her, trying to not seem scared, when I should crawling up in a ball and crying. "Sorry. So sorry. But I need to do this, said she'd let me go, never bother me again, if I do this," Alexis apologizes. "Guards! Guards she's here!" Her voice booms, and echoes through the building. What follows is the sound of heels clicking against the floor. At least ten people. They stand in the door way. Ten, tall, women. All decked out in leather catsuits, and bondage hoods that cover their mouths, but not their eyes. "No," I whisper. "So sorry," Alexis keeps muttering to herself. I only have one shot. One shot at escaping this. My gun is on the floor. All I need to do is reach for it, aim, and start pulling the trigger. This is what I need to do. Don't screw it up Casey. You can't. I reach, but they see me try, and rush me. It's in my hand, but one of them wrestles the gun out of my grip, and throws it against a wall. I punch her, and scramble for it. I feel my legs being pulled back, but I kick, and slip away from the grip. I can make it. I can grab it. I can escape. They won't let me though. I feel one jump on my back, and all the air shoots out of my lungs. I writhe for a second, as I feel them lift me off the ground. I struggle and kick, but they're too many of them. "Stop, no, stop," I plead as they bring me to my feet. They don't speak. They don't stop. One produces a muzzle, and places it against my mouth. "No, you don't understand what she'll do to memmmmph," I'm cut off by one fastening the gags's straps tightly behind my head. There's no sign of emotion towards me. They don't care. They continue to restrain me. Quickly they removed my clothing and stripped me down to my undergarments. They placed me in a leather straight jacket, to ensure I couldn't use my hands. A leg sheath, ensuring I couldn't use my legs. They let Alexis loose, and judging by the look in her eyes, she has no intention of ever mentioning me to anybody. I'm carried to the trunk of my car. They ripped the keys out of my pocket before they immobilized me. Two of them enter the car, and start driving. When it stops, I'm met with the sight of a familiar brownstone. One where I was held captive in for days. I try to struggle, but they lift me out of the trunk, and bring me inside. "There's my little bitch," a familiar voice says. "Did you forget my promise? Thought you were free of me? Your mistress?" I'm placed on a coffee table, where this horrifying, familiar woman, places a hot cup of tea, on top of my forehead. It's hot, and stings, and I think I might start crying. "Welcome to my parlor," Mistress Claw says, with a smile.