Jonathan, who was walking ahead, caught a strong scent of blood coming from the kitchen. He moved slowly, trying to pick up any sound.
But a few seconds later, he was pleasantly surprised—where Leatherface should have been, the place was completely deserted.
"Get out of my house or I'll call the police!" Heather entered the kitchen, but as soon as she saw all that fresh blood on the floor and the severed fingers in a white bowl, her breathing grew heavy.
Wednesday raised her shotgun toward the possible exits where Leatherface might be and murmured, "Thing, give me some vision."
At that moment, as if things weren't strange enough, a hand crawled out of Wednesday's bag and scurried down the hallway.
Jonathan closed the doors where Leatherface wasn't hiding and, looking at the stunned Heather, said, "My name is Jonathan Belmont. You're lucky, Miss Sawyer. If she hadn't had a vision of the massacre of your friends, we wouldn't be here."
It was true—ironically, being with Wednesday was both a blessing and a constant burden on his shoulders. Wherever she went, supernatural cases followed.
Seeing the staircase leading upward, Jonathan signaled Heather to follow him and climbed directly to the second floor.
He already knew what they would find in the room ahead—the trigger, so to speak, for Heather—the moment she would realize they were in danger.
"What's that smell?" Heather noticed a strong stench of rot and iron.
The upstairs rooms were dark; the faint light from outside wasn't enough, and there was no switch in reach to turn on the lights.
For Leatherface, darkness was the perfect cover. In this kind of environment, none of his victims could sense his presence before he struck.
Crack!
Unfortunately for Leatherface, Jonathan had more than enough skill to deal with him.
That was why he wanted this mission to be completed by Wednesday—she would do a great job.
"Where's that smell coming from?"
"From that room." Jonathan pointed toward it, opened the door, and there they found the former owner of the house.
"Oh my God…" Heather stepped back in disbelief.
Jonathan, glancing at Wednesday as she inspected the place, turned back to Heather and said, "We'll take care of what's happening here, but before that, you need to understand something."
"What is it?" After so much bad news and trauma, Heather thought her night couldn't possibly get worse.
"The one who dug that woman out of her grave and killed some of your friends is your cousin—the only family you have left." Jonathan expected an emotional reaction from Heather, but her answer surprised him.
"So what if he's my cousin? No one escapes justice."
Jonathan nodded and said, "Good. Then we'll take care of it."
"Ahhhh!"
At that moment, when Jonathan was about to say more, they heard terrified screams outside. "Your friends are in danger."
"What?" Heather ran out.
Wednesday looked at Jonathan and said, "I'll handle it."
Jonathan nodded and instead headed for the basement, where he could still sense a faint breath.
The sound of creaking wood alerted Kenny, who had already lost a lot of blood from a wound in his chest.
He was hanging from a metal hook—the kind normally used to hang cattle before being processed into dozens of kilos of meat.
"Don't be afraid. I'll help you." Jonathan approached Kenny and lifted him off the hook with relative ease.
"Arghhhh!"
"This will help with the pain, but we need to get that thing out." Jonathan wanted to do everything in his power to save Kenny from his fate.
"No, you have to get out of here and call the police, or that thing will come back." Kenny pushed Jonathan's hand away, hoping he would alert the authorities so no more of his friends would die.
Surprised by Kenny's resolve, Jonathan placed his hand on the man's head and said, "Have faith in your heart. Everything exists for a reason—and I already have someone helping your friends."
Those who deserved to be saved would never be abandoned by Jonathan, even if it meant dying for them.
"Thank you…" Kenny calmed down; the divine energy Jonathan was channeling into him greatly improved his emotional state.
"I'll get you out of here."
…
Meanwhile, outside the mansion—
"Nooo! Ryan!" Nikki, dressed only in her underwear, screamed when she saw Leatherface cut her lover in half.
Heather, who arrived just in time to witness Ryan's murder, froze, not knowing what to do.
Wednesday, seeing this, asked, "Should we save her?"
She believed in retribution—maybe not for Heather or Kenny, but for Nikki and the thief, a punishment was certainly deserved. As for whether death itself was fair, Wednesday preferred not to dwell on that thought.
"Yes…" Even though she had the power to refuse, Heather couldn't bring herself to extend her hand to someone she had considered her best friend only hours ago.
Nikki, running toward them, tripped.
After killing Ryan, Leatherface turned toward the trio of women and raised his chainsaw.
But Wednesday, holding the bouquet of flowers, let it drop to the ground—and seconds later, she raised her shotgun. "Thing, vision."
Thing darted out of the shadows and ran toward Leatherface, covering his already limited sight with the old human-skin mask he wore.
That gave Wednesday the perfect opportunity to shoot.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The shells hit Leatherface square in the chest, forcing him to stumble backward into the barn.
Wednesday didn't rush after him; instead, she reloaded her shotgun, making sure it was ready to hunt down that serial killer.
Without a doubt, in that moment, she was in her element—hunting the most brutal murderer of recent years.