You head towards your apartment, reaching it in record time. You have a real spring in your step -- must be all the sweet ass revenge you're planning, you think, grinning. As you get in the elevator, you pull the amulet out from behind your shirt. Walker has to see it after all, or it won't work. The brassy, weathered token seems to radiate power. It makes you feel confident in the face of your bully cousin. You have no doubt it's going to work, and better than that, no doubt that Walker is going to get what's coming to him.
You open the door, and Walker, who was sitting in the nearby recliner, gets up purposefully and walks over to you. "There you are, how fucking long does it take to walk downtown? You better have gotten something good. Is that it? That amulet thing?" His dull brown eyes lock onto the trinket, and he reaches an aged hand towards it. "Stop that. Don't move." Walker goes as still as stone, his hand frozen inches away from the necklace. Not even his eyes move. Perfect, it works!
The distant sound of the city is the only noise in the room. It's nice having some quiet for once. "Now, first of all, Walker. When I tell you to do something from now on, whether or not I'm wearing this amulet, you'll do it. Second of all, when I allow you to move again, you'll give me the magic ring. After you do that, you will not be able to tell anyone about the ring or the amulet, and you won't be able to touch the amulet. You can touch the ring only when I give you express permission, and can only use it with my instruction." You smile to yourself. Yes, that should be just about it. Walker is totally under your thumb now. You may be power tripping a little, but you can't really find it in you to care. "Oh," you say cheerfully, "and lastly, you will begin making preparations to stay here long-term. You're going to start working as my live-in butler. Unpaid, of course." You smirk. "You have permission to move your body again, by the way."
Walker pulls the ring off his finger and places it in your hand immediately. "You motherfucker," he says, "I'm going to kill you. You're fucking dead, [name]. You can't fucking do this to me. POLICE! POLICE!" God, he's already causing trouble. Thankfully, you have thick walls, but never hurts to be safe. "You have to talk like a butler, Walker. Butlers don't scream, and they don't use swear words. And you aren't allowed to call for help, that's not very butler-y of you either." Walker opens his mouth impotently, closes it again, then speaks slowly. "Master [name]," he says angrily, "I very much dislike what you're doing. If I could, I think that I would probably beat you up, and then use the magic ring to turn you into something awful, and then I would humiliate you, and--" You wave a hand. "That's enough, Walker." Your cousin quiets instantly, a frustrated look on his wrinkled face. Color is flushing his cheeks. God, you love this.
"Now, something just isn't right. You're talking more like a butler, but frankly, Walker isn't a very good butler name. I could call you Jeeves, or something British like Reginald or Winston, but I'd rather pick something more fun. How about... Dusty? You're looking a little grey and rickety, so I think that fits nicely. Yes, from now on, you will call yourself Dusty." Walker, or rather, Dusty the butler, is absolutely furious. It's a wonder steam isn't shooting from his ears. He raises a hand, reaching for your throat, and you speak another command. "How could I forget? You are unable to cause me any harm, Dusty." His hand hovers at your throat, unable to make contact. Eventually, your cousin lowers his hand and slumps in defeat. "You can speak again," you say, excited to hear your cousin's response.
"Although I am now your employee," the pathetic man says spitefully, "at least I have a regular sized penis, Master [name]." You chuckle, not offput by your cousin's weak insult. "Oh Dusty, I'll see to things, don't you worry about that." You look at your watch and see that it's already well past 7PM. Not long before you can use the ring again. "Now, I'm going to have a nap. I expect this place to be tidy when I wake up, Dusty, it IS your job now. Use your phone to buy yourself some clothes more befitting of your position; express shipping of course. And you had better not be texting on the job. The last thing I need is for your drunken idiot friends to show up looking for you."
With that, you head to bed, setting an alarm for midnight. It feels good to be in charge.