The floor crumbled. Gertrude fell. So did the beast.
Upon landing, he had noticed where he now sat. It was a factory warehouse. Almost to crisp exact detail like the one he and multiple other survivors hid within during the Metropolis Massacre. The Metropolis Massacre in itself was the last major event that occurred within the Heloptin civil war. However, the end of that war was only the beginning of Gertrude's new life. A life where he continued to relive the events in his nightmares. Nightmares he would would awake from wishing that he could have done something to stop the slaughter and horrible hate crimes that took place within those grueling five years of bloodshed. However after his body was recovered by soldiers of a third-party, the party that took side with Gertrude's homeland, he was found to still be alive. His mind was rewired and given a new name. They were able to block a lot of what had happened from those dark years but it all eventually came back to him by his teenage years. At first Gertrude had thought that all the dreams of watching his brains fall out his own head and hearing loud explosions were just disturbing visions. It wasn't until his twenties that he realized that these were not just dreams; they were vivid flash backs to his bloody childhood. His dreams have yet to reveal his original name and the faces of his family. As awful as the Metropolis Massacre was, Gertrude remembered a distinct lack of fire from the event. This fire and the scent it gave off was much more reminiscent of something much worse. The first moment he was dragged into the senseless war; the day his home was burnt to the ground from the crossfire of the opposing sides.
The monster had fallen with a loud thump. As it regained it's stance it's pasty grey skin began to catch on fire. The beast let out a large groan from it's back-flaps, steam emanating from the gaps between the skin. It's eyes protruding from the cluster on it's "head". Perhaps the ugly old man had wanted to trigger something deep within Gertrude's mind. Maybe it was a primal fear where he expected Gertrude to give in to fear and be killed? If anxiety and fear was what The Conductor anticipated, he was completely wrong. Gertrude was angry. He was angry that The Conductor thought he was this weak. He was angry that The Conductor thought he could kill him with this. He was angry because the monster in front of him would not stop groaning and squeaking.
"QUIET! You sound pathetic,"
The heat beginning to get to him, he took off his black overcoat revealing a white button up shirt tucked into his pants with a loosened tie hanging from his neck.
"It really doesn't suit something scary like you."
Swinging his hammer into the monster's flesh it hit with a large thump. Almost a split second after, the flames from the monster's skin traveled onto Gertrude's weapon and then on to his skin. Gertrude just stared as the orange and red consumed is hand. He wanted to scream but no connections from his optics and skin to his brain to his audio repulser would work. However, the pain began to set in. The feeling of his flesh baking finally hit the synapses and nerves of his mind like slap to the face. It's almost like the fear would suddenly set in. But it didn't. Only anger existed in Gertrude's mind. Looking back toward the monster he realized the beast was beginning to wind up an attack. Turning back towards his arm, there was no skin left. Only bone and wire remained. He stared back towards the monster.
"Forgive me for what I must yabba-dabba-doo..."
Hooking his fully intact left hand into the monster's pasty flesh, he reached his skeletal hand into the eye holes of the monster. Almost like a bowling ball of meat. In response, the monster began to thrash around the factory floors; bumping into multiple pieces of equipment and destroying conveyor lines as Gertrude still hung on. As his right hand was dug into the monster's eyes, he found the proper momentum and time to swing his body upward. Now hooking his melting left hand higher into the monster's body, Gertrude took his skeletal right claw, clenched, and pulled. The monstrosity skin peeling off and flapping away in the fire like a flag. With that layer of flesh removed, a ludicrous amount of organs and pale orange blood poured out from the abomination's body on to the floor akin to a bloated beach whale's carcass exploding from gas build up. The beast let out a dying wheeze as it's legs gave out and fell to the floor. Gertrude's body falling into the puddle of guts right with it.
Once Gertrude found the strength to lift his head up, he realized that he was no longer in the infernal factory. He was inside a cold office building on the floor. The pile of guts was no longer surrounding his body and his hands were still intact. Rolling his body over, he stared towards the ceiling as a thought suddenly hit his mind like a ton of bricks.
"My name is Kingston..."