"Why don't we send the police?"
"We can't just send someone else to carry out such an important mission. It's not about skill; we know that if anyone else interferes, they'll surely die," Jonathan said, acknowledging that the crazed chainsaw killer wouldn't be taken down so easily.
After saying that, Jonathan paused for a long moment before adding, "Besides, there's a chance that killer possesses superhuman strength."
"In that case, this is our case." Wednesday was thinking of different ways to kill a murderer of that caliber, and when she heard Jonathan say that, she figured the best way would be to set a trap for him.
Seeing Wednesday quieter than usual, Jonathan advised her, "Don't worry. I'll be right behind you, protecting you. Think cleverly about how you'll take that killer down. Of course, we'll only act after he starts killing."
"Right after? I don't think that's the best scenario, but there's certainly a path where we can prevent some deaths." Wednesday respected death, which was why, in most cases, she didn't act to defy it.
She asked Jonathan about the interventions she made and whether that would become a problem for Death itself.
Jonathan, aware of her thoughts, simply replied, "It's an exchange."
Life and death are written on the paper of destiny. When this destiny is defied, there's a chance of creating imbalance. That means you can't remove a soul from the scale because it would tip unevenly—so, another weight is used, that of cursed spirits' souls.
The lives on the flight had been saved, and in all those cases, there hadn't been any exchange that would let Death rest easy. That was why Death had decided to personally take the lives of all those involved.
But that same destiny didn't apply to them. After all, by saving one life, they took many more. A cursed spirit's soul holds more value than that of a mere human. That's why Death wouldn't cause them trouble if they saved lives that were destined to die.
This explanation was convincing enough for Wednesday, so she didn't ask further questions.
Of course, Jonathan's explanation wasn't something he'd made up. He had saved lives that were destined to die, and Death had never returned to claim them afterward. He believed that those destined to die naturally, if saved, were removed from Death's list.
In this case, even though they were facing a human with supernatural strength, the soul of the chainsaw killer was far more valuable than the humans he would kill in that mansion.
…
Newt Town, Texas.
"I hope we're not too late," said Wednesday as she stared at the mansion's massive gate—the same one she'd seen in her visions of the murders.
Jonathan, who recognized the place, couldn't help but think about the history behind these events.
After the Leatherface murders, the police surrounded the Sawyer house and demanded they hand over their relative.
The family refused, and at that moment, an angry mob of townspeople arrived, armed, set the house on fire, and killed almost the entire Sawyer family.
Only a baby survived—a girl that one of the townspeople stole and raised as her own daughter.
That baby was Heather Miller, the girl from Wednesday's memories, and the only survivor among her friends.
Jonathan and Wednesday weren't here to seek justice for the Sawyer family. The irony behind their massacre was absurd from their point of view.
Even if their deaths weren't fair, were the deaths of Leatherface's victims justified? Of course not. The family had been accomplices in all those murders.
That was why Jonathan was only here to do his job—to kill Leatherface once and for all.
Wednesday grabbed a pump-action shotgun, a few extra shells, and, only after making sure she was ready, looked at Thing and said, "This is our mission. Watch my back."
Thing seemed to understand the situation they were in and immediately agreed.
When they got out of the car, they stood before the mansion, where loud music was blasting.
"I'll help you, but you're the one who finishes Leatherface," Jonathan said, hoping Wednesday would take a more active role in missions.
"It'll be a pleasure," Wednesday replied, hiding the shotgun inside a bouquet of black flowers. Together with Jonathan, she walked up to the mansion's front door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Two in the barn, one in the living room, and I can sense a faint breath in the basement…" Jonathan's sensory ability had improved a lot. He could now feel everything within an eighty-meter radius without even focusing.
If he concentrated, the range could be much greater.
"No one's answering."
"Then let's make a little noise." Jonathan used his telekinesis to cut off the sound inside the mansion, making sure their knocking could be heard clearly.
Wednesday figured the explanation would be quite strange. In situations where she had to talk to someone about to die, it was always complicated.
That was why they didn't usually involve themselves in cases where supernatural contact hadn't yet occurred.
Heather, exhausted from everything surrounding the mansion, was about to look for her friends when someone suddenly knocked on the door.
"How did they get in?" Heather thought her friends were playing a prank on her, but remembering what kind of friends she had, she quickly dismissed the thought.
As she got up from the couch, the knocking didn't stop, which annoyed her greatly. "I'm coming!" she yelled.
Irritated, Heather yanked the door open and shouted, "What do you want?"
"Looks like she's still fine—we made it in time."
Jonathan greeted Heather politely, and Kenny said, "Sorry for showing up unannounced. Our investigation suggests that a wanted criminal is hiding in your basement, and we came to check."
"What? How did you get in here?" Heather had no idea what they were talking about.
But Jonathan, with his enhanced senses, noticed a strong stench of old corpses and blood seeping from the basement.
"He's here. I can feel him." Jonathan still hadn't fully recovered from his last mission—after all, being dragged into another plane had left him affected.
Luckily for him, this killer was human. Well, one that was rather easy to handle given his current strength.
"Who do you think you are?" Heather wanted to call her friends, but before she could say anything, Wednesday whispered, "Your sweet boyfriend is cheating on you with your best friend. That's all."
"What?"
"Focus!"