Inside the log cabin, the TV displayed only a blank blue screen. The stove was lit, and the popcorn was popping. An amazingly good looking man, Informant, sat at the kitchen table, waiting for the popcorn to be done. He'd totally forgotten that he was supposed to be shaking it as it cooked. The sound of a phone ringing broke the silence. Informant picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he answered.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" came the chilling voice on the other end of the phone.

"Well, that's a complicated question. I guess it depends on what mood I'm in. I mean, 'Scream' is good, and you do the scary voice very well, by the way. But I think 'The Blair Witch Project' also has its fair share of spooks. If I want a light horror movie, I guess I'd probably go with something like a 'Scream'. But there are always the little known classics like 'The Changeling' which just freaks me out, or a movie like 'IT' that's really not scary, but it's freaky fun to watch. So I think you'd have to be more specific when you asked what my favorite scary movie is. I think most movies that have anything to do with Alec Baldwin are pretty eerie. So what kind of scary movie do you mean?" Informant replied.

The phone was silent for a moment before the voice spoke again. "I, uh... what's your favorite slasher movie?"

"Okay, this one might get a little ranty. I totally think 'Psycho' is overrated. I mean, for its time, I'm sure it was cool. But in today's world, I don't see what the fuss is about. And the remake just never should have happened. 'Final Destination', while not really 'slasher', is an interesting movie. 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' was kinda bad, but enjoyable on some level. But the ruler of the slasher would have to be 'Scream'. I mean, the whole thing was creepy and the end was brilliant. The sequels didn't do it justice though, and don't even get me started on the hack that Sidney was dating in number two," Informant told him.

"So you said 'Scream', right?" the voice asked.

"Um... Yeah, I think I said that," Informant smiled.

The popcorn on the stove caught on fire. Informant jumped out of his seat. "Whoa! Dude, I gotta go. My dinner's on fire! Call back later and we'll chat some more. Bye!"

And he hung up the phone. He raced to the stove and grabbed the popcorn. He tossed it in the sink and ran water on it. The phone rang again. Informant answered it.

"Ahoy-hoy," said Informant. "I got that from 'The Simpsons'. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Do you want to die?" the eerie voice asked.

"Is the same guy that I was just talking to? Dude, I said to call back later, I'm busy. And I really want to see Tara's secret revealed on 'Buffy', so if you could hold off for a while on the killing me, it'd be appreciated. Call I_AM_SCIFI, I hear he's free tonight... and every night. Bye now." Informant hung up again.

The phone soon rang again, and Informant answered, "Listen you Al Gore wannabe. Can't you follow simple instructions? CALL BACK LATER! Man, the shampoo bottle must just stump you."

"Shut up!" the voice yelled. "You have ten seconds to answer the following trivia question, or your friend dies!"

"What friend?" Informant asked.

"Turn on the porch light... again," the voice demanded.

"Dude, I didn't turn it on before. You might wanna put down the script for a minute or two and take a peek at reality," Informant said, turning on the light.

On the porch, tied to a chair sat Amber Benson. Informant shrugged and spoke into the phone, "Dude, not that I want Amber to die or anything. But she's not my friend. Actually, I hate Tara, remember?"

"But you want to know her secret. And that episode hasn't finished production yet." The voice chuckled.

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" Informant screamed.

He started to open the door to go to Amber, but the voice spoke, "Don't go out there, or she dies."

Informant started crying, and crawled into the corner of the room. "What do you want from me?"

"Answer the following question and the girl goes free," the voice told him. "In which 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' movie did Sarah Michelle Gellar make her final appearance?"

"I don't know," Informant cried, trying to keep it together.

"Answer!" the voice demanded.

"I don't know!" Informant yelled into the phone.

"Answer the question or the girl dies!" the voice screamed.

"The first one!" Informant answered.

"I'm sorry, that's the wrong answer," the voice told him.

"No it's not! I've seen that movie twenty times! She died in the first one!" Informant demanded.

"You're wrong," the voice explained. "Her final appearance was in the sequel. Julie found an old picture of her."

"Oh yeah," Informant admitted.

The porch light went out. Informant rushed to the door and looked out. He turned the light on again, and looked at Amber Benson's chair. It was empty. He put the phone back to his ear.

"Um... chair's empty," Informant said.

"Crap, she got away!" the voice yelled. "I guess I'll just kill you instead."

Behind Informant, a window exploded, and the costumed form of the killer jumped into the house. He was wearing a black costume, and a Jerry O'Connell mask. Informant saw the killer, and ran to the gun case in his living room. He broke the glass and grabbed a gun that he kept loaded in case of an emergency. As the killer rushed at him, he aimed the gun. As he tried to pull the trigger, he found that it was impossible. A trigger lock had been placed on the gun.

"I swear, that is the last time I invite a liberal to my house!" Informant shouted, throwing the gun at the masked intruder.

The would-be killer got hit in the head, and stumbled, falling to the ground. Informant made a break for the door, running as fast as he could. He opened the door and ran out.

He dove into the bushes, hiding from the attacker inside the house. The air fell silent. Informant could still faintly taste the burning popcorn in the back of his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. He crept along the side of the house, trying to be as silent as possible. He came to a window, and decided to look inside, to see if the stalker was still on the floor. As he leaned his head closer to the window, he couldn't see inside at all. Something was blocking his view. As he tried to think of what it might be, it quickly turned around. The face of the Jerry O'Connell mask stared Informant in the eyes. Informant gasped, and stumbled back, falling to the ground. The killer in the window jumped through the glass, onto Informant. He took a fishing knife out of his costume, and held it over Informant.

"Okay, quick question?" Informant asked.

The killer nodded.

"Cool. Now, the whole knife thing. You walk around with that in your costume? No case or anything? Doesn't that hurt?" Informant asked.

The killer nodded, pointing to a spot of blood on the costume. Then he raised the knife, and prepared to drive it into Informant's chest.

Informant swung his fist around, hitting the O'Connell mask in the eye, and sending the attacker to the ground. Both the attacker and Informant quickly stood. Informant ran, trying for all that he was worth to get away from the killer, but he had somehow lost one shoe and was limping along slowly.

The killer caught up with him, and grabbed his head, pulling it back. As Informant stumbled, the attacker drove the knife into his chest. Informant fell to the ground, bleeding. The killer stabbed him again, and again. The blood poured from the wounds, and from Informant's mouth as he coughed.

With his dying breath, Informant reached for the killer's mask, and ripped it off of the attacker's head. The face of his murderer reflected in Informant's now-dead eyes.

And then the silence returned...

"This is rather odd," she said to herself. "But I never could turn down a free trip."

With that, she was off to pack.

"This does seem rather... doomed," she said as she was finally able to move.

She slowly walked toward the front door of the building. As she approached the porch, she looked up to the top of the house. She noticed three hawks circling above.

Finally, she reached the door, and rang the doorbell. It echoed inside the house for what seemed like minutes before the door swung open. Nobody was inside that she could see. Against her better judgment, she walked into the house.

The house was huge and beautiful. Unlike its exterior, the inside of the house was in perfect condition. It had dark wood floors that made noised under the weight of Sarah walking on it. Its walls were painted a dark red color, and was decorated with an assortment of old paintings, mirrors, and candle holders. Above her hung a grand chandelier made of crystal, and in front of her a huge staircase rose up to a landing where it broke into two separate stairways, heading in either direction.

As she walked slowly toward the stairs, not quite knowing where to go, a shadow filled the wall behind her. She didn't see it as it grew larger and larger. It came from a hallway to her side, one of several in the foyer.

"Hello?" Sarah called out, her voice echoing through the house.

In the hallway to her side, a shadowy figure walked closer to her. In the silence of the house, she heard footsteps that weren't her own. She looked around.

"Is somebody there?" she asked with a slight quiver in her voice.

The figure came closer. Finally, Sarah saw it, but couldn't make out a face. Did it even have one?

"Who are you?" Sarah asked more firmly, but still no answer.

She began creeping her way toward the figure. As she neared it, she decided to grab a weapon. A vase rested on a nearby table. She picked it up, and readied to defend herself. The shadow came closer, and closer. Each breath Sarah took echoed. Every step was met with the creaking of the floor. On the wall in front of her, she noticed another shadow. Not from the figure she was facing. She turned, and saw another shadow in another doorway.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Besides the sound of her question repeating with every echo, there was nothing. Sarah dropped the vase, and made for the door as fast as she could. When she got to it, she noticed that there was no knob on the door. No way to open it.

"What the...?" she muttered as she tried for a window.

The windows were all made of a break-proof glass, and were nailed shut. No way out. She was trapped.

The shadowy figures came closer and closer. There was nothing Sarah could do but hold her breath and wait. The first shadowy figure came into the light. Sarah saw his face. A man with short, neat hair who wore a leather coat that hung at knee length. He wasn't looking at her. He kept his eyes on the ground, slightly bobbing his head.

"Hey! WHO ARE YOU?" Sarah asked.

The man looked up and saw Sarah. He jumped, frightened. He pulled off the headphones that he was wearing.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Sarah. And you are?"

"Me? I'm... just call me Hunter," the man said.

"Hunter? From the BBoard?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah that's me. I assume you're Slider_Sarah. The accent gives you away," Hunter said, putting a cigar in his mouth and lighting it.

"Okay, so who, might I ask, is that?" Sarah asked Hunter, looking over at the other shadow.

Hunter looked over at the other figure, then turned back to Sarah and shrugged. He continued puffing at his cigar. The figure walked closer, finally hitting the light. Sarah could see that it was a female. She walked closer as Sarah watched. She wore a plain blue jeans and a sweater. She looked at Sarah, smiling.

"You don't have to worry about me. I just wanted to scare you," the woman said.

"Thanks, but I'm scared enough already. Who are you?" Sarah asked.

"Tigs," The lady said. "Well, that's how you'd know me."

Sarah gave a sigh of relief. "Okay, so what are we doing here? I'm assuming you both got the invitation to..." she looked around, "...the house of horrors, here."

"I kinda like the house," Hunter said. "It's got class."

"Yeah, and no way for us to get out," Sarah replied.

"I was looking around. The place is pretty big. I think it even has floors underground," Tigs told them.

"So, there are three of us. None of the others are here, so I'm assuming that people like Tf just haven't gotten here yet. When they do get here, we'll just hold the door, and waltz on out," Hunter told them, sitting down in one of the antique chairs in the room.

"How do we know we're the only ones?" Tigs asked. "The house is huge. There could be another dozen in here, and we wouldn't know it."

At that moment, a loud creaking echoed through the air, and a cool gust of wind blew into the room. Sarah looked over. The front door was open, but the people standing in front of it were letting it close.

"NO!" Sarah and Tigs yelled at the same time, both rushing toward the door.

The two men standing in front of it looked at them, confused. The door slammed shut behind them.

Sarah and Tigs stopped, and looked at the two men. One of them was wearing a gray wool blazer over a black v-neck sweater and black pants. The other wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

"What's going on?" the one in the blazer asked.

"You just sealed us in. There's no way out of here," Sarah told him.

"Oh," the man replied, looking back at the door. "Oops."

"Why isn't there a way out?" the other man asked.

"Who knows," Sarah replied, walking back into the other room, and sitting down.

"Who are you guys? I mean, I can gather that we all post on the BBoard, but which posters are you?" Tigs asked.

"I'm TemporalFlux," the man in the blazer replied.

"I post under Hyperspace," the other man told them. "But I lurk more than I post."

Tigs turned to Sarah. "Okay, so we're not totally lost. There's still a few people left to get here. QBall79, Malthus, Informant... they can't all be here."

"Um... you guys didn't know?" Hyperspace interrupted. "I guess you couldn't."

"Know what?" Sarah asked.

"Informant," Hyper started. "I took a class with him once, so I know his name and all that."

"So, what about him?" Tigs asked.

"Well, I picked up a paper today. On the cover was the story of a murder. The victim's name... well, it was Informant," Hyperspace told them.

Nobody reacted. Nobody was sure how to react.

"He's dead?" Sarah asked, more to say it out loud than to actually ask.

"Well, that sucks," Tf said. "And I don't mean to make that a small point... but do any of you think it's just a coincidence that we all got invited to the House on Haunted Hill, here, and now others are turning up dead?"

"And there's one other question," Hyper spoke. "Who are you three? We introduced ourselves, but I still don't know any of you."

"Oh. I'm Slider_Sarah, she's Tigs, and that's Hunter," Sarah told them.

Tigs smiled and nodded. Hunter turned in his chair.

"Hey," Hunter said, now standing up, "So we're all, like, lured and stuff?"

"Looks that way," Tf replied.

"Man, that's crappy," Hunter responded.

TemporalFlux sat on his bed, looking around at the room that he was staying in. The walls were paper thin, which gave some sense of security. One yell would alert anyone of anything. One sneeze and everyone could hear it. One yawn... you get the point. The walls were thin, and sound carried well in the house.

As Tf sat there, listening to a conversation between some of the others, he grew tired. He leaned over and turned off the light near his bed and closed his eyes. When he opened them to take one last look around for his own peace of mind, he noticed a light. Not coming from under the door, but coming from the wardrobe directly across from him. He got out of bed and walked over to the wardrobe. He looked at the source of the light, a crack between the wardrobe and the wall.

"This is odd," he whispered to himself.

"You say something, Tf?" came the voice of Vortex62 next door.

"Um... No. I didn't say anything. Just looking around," Tf said, but didn't yell.

"'Kay," Vortex replied.

Tf pushed at the wardrobe. It moved away from the wall with ease, on hinges. Behind it was a doorway, with stairs leading down. He stepped onto the stairs, and began walking down.

"I can just hear the audience screaming at me not to go in there," he said to himself as he went further.

He walked down the stairs slowly. He could see the flicker of what looked like fire burning at the end of the stairway. As he walked out of the stairway into a damp, underground room, he saw that the flicker was actually from a couple of those fake candle light bulbs.

"This seems rather... ominous," he said to himself as he continued.

The room held a collection of antique weapons and torture equipment. Tf took one look at this collection and stopped short.

"Okay, I'm just not liking the vibes of this place."

He turned around and started to walk toward the stairs. He stopped moving when he saw a figure standing in the stairway. The figure wore an emotionless Jerry O'Connell mask.

"Well, I suppose I could make a joke about season 4, but I think I'll run instead," Tf said, running in the opposite direction.

There was no other exit. He was trapped. He grabbed a sword off of the wall, and held it ready for battle.

The figure in the stairway twisted its head slightly in an almost innocent way. It slowly moved closer to Tf, not rushing. Tf charged at the killer, swinging the sword. When he hit the figure, the sword's blade fell to the ground. Tf looked at it, wishing with every ounce of his being that the sword hadn't been a reproduction.

The killer revealed a knife and raised it. Grabbed the killer's harm and twisted it, making him drop the weapon. He then pushed the killer to the ground and tried to run toward the stairs, but the killer grabbed his leg and made him fall. He struggled to stand, but the killer's hold made that impossible. The killer pulled Tf back, and took the chance to stand up. It towered over Tf.

Tf finally found a chance to back away, and stand. The killer blocked the stairway, so Tf made the decision to charge it.

He ran as fast as he could toward the killer, trying to remember everything he ever heard about the art of tackling. As he hit the masked baddie, it felt like a bag of potatoes. The killer was pinned between Tf and the wall. As quickly as possible, Tf pulled away, and climbed the stairs. When he reached the top, he found the door locked. He pounded on it as hard as he could.

"Somebody help me!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

He pounded for a few more minutes before remembering that the killer was behind him. Slowly, he turned. Slowly he came eye to eye with his pursuer. Every beat of his heart echoed through his body. Every one of his senses amplified. His bones screamed for some option, some way to escape the inescapable. He could feel the warm, smelly breath of his masked enemy on his face. He could hear the seconds ticking on his watch.

In a flash, the killer grabbed Tf and flung him down the stairs. The world became a spin cycle of pain and cracking. He bit his tongue, causing the taste of blood to fill his mouth. When he hit the ground, he couldn't move. The hard, gray stone floor turned a dark red as Tf's various injuries made it possible for his blood to escape the body in which it once was held.

The killer walked down the stairs, coming to finish the job. Tf looked into the eye holes of the mask, and the killer looked back as he stood over the bleeding owner of the great Dimension Of Continuity.

In one swift move, the attacker picked Tf up and held him by the neck. Quickly, he carried his victim to one of the old torture devices and strapped him down to the old wooden slab. Overhead hung a huge blade. The assailant activated the device, sending the blade swinging back and forth, lowering only a little with each swipe. The killer then turned on his heel and walked up the stairs. He clapped his hands, and the lights went dark. Tf could also hear the sound of the door opening at the top of the stairs.

"Damn clapper," he managed to mutter to himself.

The killer was gone. The room was dark. The sound of the swinging blade filled the room. Tf was helpless as the blade cut into him. His screams went unheard.

By morning, he'd been cut in half.

"Did anyone get any sleep last night?" Dee asked as she ate her bagel.

"I couldn't even turn off the light," Tigs replied.

"Fell asleep around six. Got up at six fifteen," Hunter told them.

At that point, QBall walked into the kitchen. "Anyone see Tf today? He's not in his room."

Everyone shook their head.

"I heard him last night," Vortex62 replied. "Maybe he went for a walk around 'Hill House' here."

"He wouldn't just walk off without telling someone, would he?" Hyperspace asked.

The room was quiet. Nobody wanted to admit to themselves the most obvious answer.

"We have to get out of here," Sarah said as though nobody else knew. "Now."

"But how?" Vortex questioned. "The doors are solid and have no knobs on the inside. The windows are unbreakable. There are no phones."

"There has to be a way," said Dee. "If we're being stalked, the killer would have to be in the house. He wouldn't lock himself in here."

"So there has to be some door. Or a key... or something," QBall deduced. "But how do we find it?"

Hyperspace chuckled. "Hey, maybe if we clap our hands, the doors will open."

Nobody smiled.

"Y'know... the clapper," he filled in, trying to get some reaction to his joke. "Maybe you have to be me to get that."

"So what do we do? Look around? We can't simply split up and go searching. We'd be walking into obvious peril," Sarah commented as she looked around the kitchen. "Has anyone seen any scones? I can't find any."

"We should split into pairs," Hunter said, then realized that there were seven people in the room. "And a small group."

"I don't mean to sound untrusting, but how do I know that none of you are the one doing this?" Sarah asked.

"We've all known each other for a long time. Why shouldn't we trust each other?" asked Tigs.

"We've only met on the net. That's not exactly longtime closeness," Dee commented.

"And, for that matter, how do we know that we are who we say we are. I mean, I could say that I'm Informant, but I'm not. How do any of you know that I'm really Vortex62?" Vortex said, which made several people look at him funny. "But I am."

"So what should we do? All roam around the house in one safe little group, knocking on walls and pulling on wall-mounted light fixtures?" QBall asked sarcastically.

"Dude, haven't you ever seen 'Scream'?" Hunter replied.

"Actually, no," QBall remarked as he pulled on a wall-mounted light fixture.

Hunter sighed. "The rules of surviving a horror movie are as follows. One, never drink, do drugs or have sex. Think of this as an Informant story."

Several people looked to the ground when Informant's name was brought up. Hunter looked at them, then remembered that Informant was dead. "Right. Sorry."

He took a moment to knock on a wall, then went back to the rules. "Number two, never say 'I'll be right back', because you will never, ever, be right back!"

"Wait, didn't Randy die in the 'Scream' movies?" Sarah asked. "I'm not sure he's the one to be following."

"Whatever. Let's just think about this," Hunter replied, lighting another cigar.

"Hey, can I bum a smoke, Hunter?" Vortex asked.

"Sorry, last one," Hunter replied.

"Ooh, we should never break away from the group. Next thing you know, you're falling into a trap door, the killer's chasing you, and you have a pie-eating dog that can talk, jumping into your arms," Tigs told them.

Then she realized that she was lagging behind the group, which had already turned the corner.

"Son of a..." she muttered, scurrying to catch up.

Back at the front of the line, people were still trying to find any way out of the house. Tigs quickly caught up.

"All I'm saying is that a gun would be handy right now," Hunter commented.

"Yes, it would. But a gun should also be safe. If a simple lock..." Dee started.

"Come on! If a killer's charging at me, and there's a lock on my gun, believe me, there's not going to be enough time to get the lock off!" Hunter yelled.

"You have to admit, this is an extreme situation. Nine times out of ten, a lock will only help protect a child from accidentally shooting himself," Dee replied.

"Um... still not helping the people being stalked!" Hunter shouted.

Sarah leaned over to Tigs. "Can you believe that we're being hunted by a psychotic murderer, and they still can't stop the political debates?"

Tigs smiled, then grabbed a tiny silver box off one of the tables and put it in her purse when nobody was looking.

Sarah returned to her room, and sat on the bed. A fire roared in the fireplace. She didn't turn off her light. All she could do was sit on the bed, scanning the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. As night went on, she rested her head on her pillow. Almost instantly, she began to doze off. Colors in the room swirled, dots of light danced in front of her eyes. This wasn't normal fatigue, something was wrong. Her pillow! Something was on her pillow. A drug, perhaps. But whatever it was, she wouldn't let it get the better of her. She jumped out of the bed, onto the floor. The room around her twirled. She could barely stay standing.

"Someone help me!" she tried to yell, but her voice would only allow a faint whisper. She tried for the door, but it was closed. Something stood in front of it. She couldn't make it out. A figure, maybe. Clothed in all black. The drug must have been strong, she thought, for she could have sworn she saw a Jerry O'Connell mask. Slowly and quietly, he walked toward her. Her mind screamed for her foot to stomp on the floor, but it wouldn't. The killer grabbed her, and pulled her toward the wall. She passed out.

For a moment, she awoke as she was being pulled down a flight of stairs.

Then again as she was put down onto an old wooden table. Her feet were being tied down at one end. She knew what this was. An old torture device. A stretching machine.

She couldn't let this happen. Not now. Not like this. The killer was looking at her feet. He had no idea that she was awake.

The colors of the room still blurred. Her mind was fuzzy. But she must somehow escape. She looked around the room. Around the table. She saw something within reach. A wrench.

Trying not to draw attention, she slowly moved her hand off of the low-lying rack and onto the floor. Her hand gripped the wrench with as much power as she could muster. Her whole arm felt numb, but she had to find the strength. She pulled the wrench closer. As she did, it made a noise as it was dragged across the cold, hard floor.

The killer's head turned. He knew! He shook his head in a "no, no, no" type of way.

He started moving closer toward her hand. She was tired. She could hardly think. But every ounce of her being told her that she had to swing the wrench. So she did.

With everything she had in her. Every bit of strength her soul had. Her arm cut through the air, picking up speed as it went. Then it struck the killer's head. With a thud, the killer dropped to the floor.

Adrenaline flooded her body. Though her mind still had trouble working, she leaned up, and untied her feet. She stood. The killer was at her feet, still awake, but battling one heck of a head wound.

She stepped over him, walking toward the stairway. The dark figure, now behind her, stood. Now, they were both equally groggy.

The killer walked toward her, and finally grabbed her shirt. The attacker pulled her back into the room, and threw her to the ground.

"I won't let you do this," Sarah said, her voice weak.

She got to her feet. The killer stumbled toward her, pulling a knife from his dark robe-y type thing. She stepped behind the wooden table, putting something between her and the killer.

The killer stepped up on top of the table.

"This sucks," Sarah mumbled, rushing around the table, toward the stairs.

With the killer following her, Sarah tripped on the first step. She fell to the ground. The killer stood over her, one leg on either side. He raised his knife, and prepared to stab her. She closed her eyes, seeing no other option.

She grabbed the backs of the killer's legs at the knee, and pulled as hard as she could. The legs of the groggy murderer that stood above her buckled, and he fell to the ground. His head now near her feet, and his body resting on her legs.

With a grunt, she pulled her legs out from under the killer, and crawled up the stairs. The killer followed, but when she reached the doorway and opened it, the attacker stopped, and headed back down the stairs.

Sarah crawled into her room, recognizing the tall mirror hanging by the entrance. When she cleared the threshold, she fell to the ground, and screamed as loud as her voice would allow. Within seconds, everyone was in her room.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

"Mind what?" Hunter replied.

Dee sighed. "The smoke. It's making me sick."

"Well, I'd offer to open a window, but..." Hunter grinned.

"Could you put it out?" Dee asked with a more solid voice.

Hunter did nothing, but continued puffing. Dee stood and walked to the other side of the room.

"I agree. Put it out," QBall demanded.

"No." Hunter stood his ground. "I have as much right to smoke as any of you do to tell me not to."

"I'll tell you one more time. Put it out!" QBall yelled.

Tigs looked at Sarah, seeing that she was still asleep. Those drugs must be powerful, she thought.

Hunter took another puff of his cigar, and blew the smoke in QBall's face. QBall snapped. He shot out of his seat and punched Hunter.

"Hey!" Vortex cut in, stepping between the two men. "This is getting us nowhere."

He grabbed Hunter's cigar, and put it out. Hunter just gave him a cold stare.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Hunter said, as he walked out of the room. "I'll be right back."

When he left, QBall turned to Vortex with a look of rage. "I can handle myself. I don't need you butting in."

"Fighting isn't going to help us get out of here. He wants us divided. He wants us each alone," Vortex told QBall.

"Yeah?" QBall replied. "Well, maybe I'm better off alone. For all I know, you could all be the killers."

With that, QBall walked out of the room, into the dark hallways of the house.

Vortex turned to Dee and Tigs. "Was it something I said?"

"It's just... we're all tense. I'll go find Hunter and apologize," Dee told him.

Dee went after Hunter. Vortex turned to Tigs and Hyperspace, who were looking at him. He didn't know what to say.

"I'll go after QBall," Hyperspace said, walking out of the room.

"Hunter," she said.

Hunter turned and looked at her. "What?"

"I thought I'd apologize for getting all upset. I'm just really stressed out right now," Dee told him.

Hunter's look didn't change at all. "Fine. Whatever," he said.

"Look. We're in this house together, and we're going to have to depend on each other if we want to make it out."

As Dee said, this, she noticed that Hunter was paying no attention at all. He was staring at the wall.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

Hunter ran his hand along the wall. "Look at this. The wood paneling has a little space. I feel air coming out of it."

Dee walked closer to the wall, and held her hand up. She felt the cool air blowing on her fingers. She knocked on the wall. It was hollow.

"A door?" she asked.

"Maybe. But how do we get in?" Hunter replied.

"Do we want to get in? I mean, in these types of situations, don't you think it'd be best to get the group?" Dee queried.

As she said that, the door popped open. Hunter had found the way. He put one leg inside the doorway, which had steps leading up.

"You go get the group. I'm gonna check it out," he told her, stepping up some of the steps.

"Hunter, wait!" Dee yelled to him, but he didn't reply.

Dee looked back in the direction of the sitting room, then up the stairs. Could she leave Hunter alone? Could she live with herself if something happened to him? It would be safer to get the group, and check this out together, but there was no time. She stepped through the doorway, and ran to catch up to Hunter.

As she caught up to him, the door slammed shut behind her. A chill ran up her spine.

They finally reached the top of the stairs, and walked into what must have been the tower on top of the house.

The only light in the room was that from a flickering light bulb that hung from the ceiling. Outside, a clash of thunder rang out.

"A dark and stormy night. Fun," Hunter said.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the stairway below. Then they stopped. Dee and Hunter looked at each other.

"We have to get out of here," Dee told him.

"How?" Hunter replied.

They looked around. No way out. The windows, though able to open, would not be of any use. There was nowhere to go outside but the long way down, and without anything to grasp.

The light bulb died. Sounds of footsteps filled the room and Hunter and Dee scrambled to find someplace safe. So many footsteps. Hunter couldn't tell how many. His heart raced. His mind swirled. He found the stairway. Just as he did, he heard a loud thud. Someone had fallen down. He ran down the stairs.

When he reached the doorway, he looked back. Still, it was too dark to see anything. Should he go back for her? Should he go back to the group? His breath was heavy. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and the rush of adrenaline. What should he do? The question repeated in his head over and over. Finally, he decided to go back for her.

"Silence is a good thing," he told himself. "Right?"

He continued walking and still heard nothing. On either side of his were doors. Doors that led to rooms that had yet to be explored. He wondered what was inside of them, but decided not to go inside. He didn't know what could be in them, and he didn't want to find out alone. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure about isolating himself. Had he closed off possible murderers, or opened the door for the attacker to strike? He'd been walking through this maze of a house for nearly a half hour. He was no longer sure where he was, or how to get back to the others.

"Way to go. Now I'm gonna either die, or stay lost in this place."

As he said that, a gust of wind blew past him from behind. He turned around to see what it was. As he did, he noticed the lights going off in the hallway behind him. From as far back as he could see, the lights were going off. One by one, working their way toward him like a flood of darkness.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say this isn't a good thing," he said as he began to run.

He ran as fast as he could, trying to avoid the shadows that were catching up to him. The darkness that could hide anything, or anyone. As the darkness swallowed him, he stopped running. He stood as still as he possibly could.

"Okay, I saw the third 'Karate Kid' movie. I can do this. Just close my eyes and listen," he whispered.

He closed his eyes, which were of no use in the darkness. He held his breath. His heart pounded in his chest. His mouth went dry. But he had to focus. Listen for any sound that an oncoming attacker might make. A footstep. The sound of someone breathing. Creepy horror movie music. The sound of a knife digging into flesh. Anything! But he heard nothing. The darkness had eaten him alive, and he could do nothing to protect himself.

"Crap," he blurted.

He opened his eyes and felt around. He felt the wall. That was a good thing. He then felt his way down the wall, trying to find a door. He felt one! Okay, now he had to open it, and lock himself inside. He tried the knob, but it was locked.

"Crap," he blurted again.

He felt his way down the hall until he reached another doorway. Again, he tried the doorknob. It worked! He opened the door and rushed inside. The room was as dark as the hallway. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. But he closed the door, and felt for the lock. There was no lock!

"Crap," he once again blurted. "Okay, yeah. That word's old. Finding a new word."

At least he could hold the door shut, knowing that nobody could get in. He took a deep breath. Then the lights went on again.

"Thank you," he muttered to himself, turning around to see the room he was in.

Directly in front of him was a dentist's chair, complete with light, drill, and spit sink. On the wall behind it was a collection of different types of knives. And on the wall that the door was on were three aquariums. Each with a different type of creature. One with spiders. Big and small. Some hairy. The second aquarium was filled with what looked like fire ants. And the third aquarium was filled with different types of snakes.

When QBall's eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the back corner of the room. There stood a darkly clothed man in a Jerry O'Connell mask holding a knife.

"CRAP!" QBall yelled, trying to open the door, but it was jammed.

The killer raised one finger and moved it from side to side, in an "Ah ah ah" motion.

QBall ran across the room, putting the chair between himself and the killer. He then looked back, and saw the aquariums.

"Gah!" he yelped.

The killer moved toward QBall, raising his knife. QBall looked around for something to defend himself with. All he could find was the little water squirter thing on the spit sink. He grabbed it, and sprayed water at the killer. Well, he tried to spray the killer, but the pressure wasn't strong enough to reach the attacker.

"Son of a Baldwin!" QBall cried out as he looked around.

The killer lunged at him. QBall reacted only in reflex, jumping out of the knife's way, grabbing the killer's arm and throwing him to the ground.

"Wow," QBall said, proud of himself.

The killer quickly got to his feet and again came at QBall.

"Jinkies!" QBall cried, jumping out of the way.

The killer threw a punch, hitting QBall in the face. QBall was thrown to the ground by the force. As the killer walked toward him, picking up the knife on the way, QBall tried to crawl out of the way. But the killer was fast. With a swift kick to the face, QBall was stopped.

The killer stood over the dazed QBall, raising his knife. QBall managed to shake off the daze just in time to see the killer, and kick him out of the way. The killer was thrown into the wall behind the door, and to the ground. At the same time, he and QBall stood up. QBall watched the killer, but at the same time lifted a hand to feel the gush of blood coming from his mouth. As the killer raised his knife for another charge, the door opened, slamming into the killer. In walked Hyperspace.

"QBall, are you in... MOTHER OF PEARL!" Hyperspace shouted, seeing QBall, and the torture room around him.

"Kiwaw" QBall mumbled, trying to say the work 'killer' and warn Hyperspace.

But it was too late. The killer jumped out from behind the door and stabbed Hyperspace in the chest. Stunned, Hyperspace looked down at his wound, then to QBall and the killer as he fell to the ground.

"No fair. I don't even get my own death scene?" Hyperspace managed to mumble as he died.

"Hywerswace! No!" QBall yelled in shock and horror.

The killer then turned his attention back to QBall. QBall tried to punch the killer, but his attempt was blocked. The killer then threw QBall down onto the chair. QBall hit his head and passed out.

Seconds later, QBall woke up. His hands were handcuffed to the chair and his legs were tied down.

"Whaw aw you dowing to we?" QBall asked, still suffering the pain of his face.

The killer did not speak. He just held out his hand in a 'what the hell does it look like I'm doing?' fashion.

"Oh," QBall replied. "Would it we wossible to weconsider?"

The killer shook his head, no.

"Cwap," QBall muttered.

The killer cut into QBall with his knife, making a small wound in QBall's leg. QBall screamed in pain. The killer made a similar wound in QBall's other leg, and in each of his arms.

"You'we wust cutting we?" QBall asked.

The killer gave another negative reply. QBall was confused. The masked man then walked to the wall that had all of the aquariums on in, dripping blood all the way. The killer removed a painting from the wall and revealed a cage behind it. A cage that housed what looked like bats. Vampire bats.

"Don't they wust eat cow blood?" QBall asked.

The killer shrugged, then opened the cage. The bats did not move. The killer then walked to the back of the same wall, near to the aquarium farthest from the door. He gave one last look at QBall, then took the lid off of the aquarium that held the snakes. The snake squirmed, preparing to get out of the aquarium. The killer walked to the second aquarium that held the fire ants. He kicked it, shattering the glass. The ants were free. Then the killer walked to the last aquarium and shattered that as well, releasing the spiders.

Then, with a wave goodbye, the killer left badly bleeding QBall alone in the room, turning out the lights and closing the door on his way out. When the room went black, the squeal of bats filled the room. QBall screamed. And he did so for a long time after the killer had left. He screamed in pain at he was attacked by at least one of each type of creature.

But then his screams ended. He never made another noise again.

"What time is it?" Sarah groggily asked.

Tex looked at his watch. "Lateish," he told her.

Sarah sat up, holding her head and looking around. "Where is everyone?"

Tex looked at the ground. "There was a fight. Hunter went to the bathroom. Dee went to apologize. They never came back. QBall ran off, not trusting any of us. Hyperspace went to find him. They never came back either."

"And Tigs?" Sarah asked, her eyes tearing up.

Tex jumped to his feet and looked around. Tigs was gone. When he'd dozed off, she'd been there. He must have missed what happened.

"Tigs?!" he yelled, frantic.

Sarah jumped up too. "You didn't know?"

"She was here!" Tex told her.

"Tigs?!" Sarah called before muttering to herself, "Bloody hell."

"What's all the yelling about?" Tigs asked from behind them, walking through a doorway, holding a knife that was covered in red.

"Nyah!" Vortex yelled, jumping back.

"What?!" Tigs yelled, also jumping.

"You, Tigs? How could you?" Sarah asked, looking at the knife.

Tigs noticed what they were looking at. "Oh, that was simple. Just take the knife and slice right in. Sharp too. Cuts like butter..."

Sarah and Tex looked disgusted. They slowly moved away from Tigs. Tigs smiled.

"Through the roll! I was making a sandwich! I told you, Tex. Asked if you wanted one," Tigs explained.

"Then what's all that red stuff?" Sarah asked.

"Ketchup," Tigs told her. "I like to put ketchup on my salami."

Sarah and Tex got disgusted looks on their faces again.

"Ketchup on salami? Eew!" they both said at the same time.

Then Sarah's face dropped. She slowly backed away from both of them.

"What's wrong?" Tex asked.

"It's one of you," Sarah said, mostly to herself. "It has to be. Everyone else is..."

"Wait. You can't think that I'd... I was asleep. You saw me!" Tex pleaded.

"Maybe you were tired after a night of killing," Sarah softly said with a questioning look.

"She wandered off by herself! How do we know she's not the killer?" Tex asked, pointing to Tigs.

"I made a sandwich!" Tigs yelled.

"It's gotta be one of you," Sarah again said, backing off toward a doorway.

"Why wouldn't I have killed you?" Tex asked.

Sarah ignored him. She ran out of the room, head still spinning from the drugs in her system.

When she was gone, Tex and Tigs looked at each other.

"It can't be Sarah. She was here the whole time. She got attacked herself," Tex told Tigs with a suspicious look in his eyes.

Both of them backed away, and headed out of separate doorways. Both running as they hit the halls.

"Man, my feet hurt," he said to himself, taking a rest.

He put one arm up, leaning on an empty wall to take the stress off of his feet. As he did, the wall swallowed him. He found himself sliding down a steep chute. Eventually, he was thrown out into a dark and smelly room. It looked like a dungeon, only with flimsy wooden walls.

"Somehow, I always imagined sliding as being more fun than that," He mumbled to himself as he looked for a way out.

"No!" she yelled at herself. "Not now. Open your bloody eyes and keep them open or you'll have no tea."

But her eyes kept closing.

"C'mon! I'm the one with the accent. I'm supposed to be the smart one who doesn't die in these movies," she pointed out. "Of course, Giles is always being knocked out."

With that, her eyes closed against her will, and she began to doze off. She fell against the armrest. Unexpectedly, the armrest moved! As she fell onto it, it pushed down. The chair spun. Her eyes flew open. The wall that was now directly in front of her opened, and she was thrown into it. As she slid down the chute, she thought to herself, 'Last time I buy that brand of furniture.'

She was thrown out into the same room as Vortex62. They were together now. Alone. He moved toward her.

"Don't come near me!" she yelled at him.

"It's not me," he told her. "I - ironically enough - slid in here."

Moments later, a scream came from the chute, and Tigs was thrown to the floor in front of them. She sat on the floor, clutching her purse, and sitting, still stunned, on the ground. Tex and Sarah walked to her. Tex extended a hand to help her up, but she flinched.

He rolled his eyes and put his hand out again. "For the last time, people! I'M NOT EVIL!"

She took his hand. He pulled her up as she looked around.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Not sure, but I don't like the looks of it," Tex told her.

"These walls. They're not like the others in the house. Not like the ones I saw in the other dungeon room either," Sarah noted. The shock of the whole chute thing must have given her a second wind.

Almost as though on queue, the flimsy walls lifted into the ceiling. The room was much larger now. And the scenery was much less pretty to look at. On the walls hung the bodies of several people, each with a plaque under them with their BBoard name. Roaches crawled all over the bodies, inside the mouths and in the clothes. Sarah and Tigs looked away. Vortex looked at the plagues. There were a few people that he didn't recognize. ThomasMalthus. Informant. Chaser9. David Peckinpah.

"Oh man, I never thought this would be how I met Informant and Chaser," Vortex commented. "Though I did have this fantasy once about meeting Peckinpah that was strangely similar."

He looked to Tigs and Sarah who just looked back at him with strange looks on their faces.

"Okay, bad joke," Tex admitted.

Then a loud crash was heard. A door slamming. All of them spun to see what caused it. Behind them now stood the masked killer... a gun in his hand.

"Wait. Did you mention the Jerry O'Connell mask before? I don't remember that." Then he chuckled. "It's kinda funny. Run! Run for your lives! The evil drunken slut is after us!"

"Um... Tex, I might be missing out of some American sense of humor, but is this really the time to be making jokes?" Sarah asked.

"Good point."

"So what are you gonna do? Kill us like the rest?" Tigs asked the masked attacker.

The killer nodded.

"And Jerry isn't a slut. He's a young man who knows how to have fun," Sarah commented to Tex.

"I don't suppose there's any way to get out of this, is there?" Tex asked the killer.

The killer replied with a negative shake of the head.

Tex stood for a moment just taking in the information, then grabbed Sarah and Tigs and dove behind two very out of place barrels, the killer shooting at while he was in mid-air. They landed hard on the floor. Sarah and Tigs moved into a better position. Tex just rested on the ground, a red puddle forming around him.

"Tex!" Tigs called.

His breathing became heavy, he couldn't move. Sarah and Tigs pulled him close to them. Their eyes filled with tears.

"Get them home," Tex said, his life draining. "Sliderssss."

And with that, his eyes closed and he went limp. Tigs and Sarah struggled to pull themselves together.

"We have to stay calm," Sarah told Tigs.

"What should we do? How can we get out of this?" Tigs replied.

Sarah thought for a moment, then responded, "You watch Buffy too, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm convinced that through the use of sarcasm and wit, we may be able to distract the killer and get his gun with a flip and a kick to his hand," Sarah explained.

"Good idea. And you know how to do the flip kick?" Tigs questioned.

"Well... no. I was kinda hoping you could," Sarah told her. "Okay, maybe we can just throw something heavy at him once he's distracted."

"Okay, what do we have that's heavy?" Tigs asked, looking around.

They saw nothing at first. The area was clean. Then both of their eyes went to Vortex62. After a moment, they looked to each other.

"Oh come on! That's sick!" Sarah said, getting rid of the idea.

They looked around again, and finally saw a rock. Tigs crawled to it and pulled it back to the shelter.

"Okay, on the count of three we distract the killer with a funny line, then toss the rock at him," Sarah told her.

Tigs nodded. They counted down together then stood. They saw the killer, still in the same place as before.

"Thanks for waiting for us," Sarah said to him.

The killer shrugged. Then the mood went back to serious.

"Okay, come and get it, big boy," Tigs said to him, then they tossed the rock.

The rock flew... for about two feet, then crashed to the ground.

"Uh oh." Sarah frowned at the rock. "Also, 'Come and get it, big boy?'"

"You try thinking up something on the spot," Tigs replied.

"How about, 'This time it's personal'? There's a reason why it's a classic and at this point, we're pretty much just ripping off the show, aren't we?"

"Uh huh."

Then they both made a break for it, running to different sides of the room, and hiding amongst the bodies, roaches, and torture devices. The killer tried to shoot at them, but he was out of bullets.

"You only had one bullet?" Sarah questioned.

The killer sighed, then ran toward her. He caught up to her and grabbed her. She screamed and struggled, but couldn't break free. Tigs ran to her and tried to attack the killer from behind, but the killer turn and stabbed her before she could do anything. She fell to the ground, bleeding and hitting her head. Her purse spilled, sending expensive looking trinkets from the house all over the floor. Tigs was out like a light.

Sarah gasped. "Tigs!"

The killer quickly turned back to Sarah and grabbed her. He locked her in a set of stocks that sat on one of the walls. She was trapped, hands and feet locked into this antique device, as the killer stood near her, his bloody knife in hand.

"Is this the part of the movie where you reveal who you really are?" Sarah asked.

The killer nodded. Slowly, he pulled off his Jerry O'Connell mask. Sarah gasped when she saw who it was.

"Hunter? But why?" She asked.

"It seemed like every time I went to that BBoard, someone was saying something mean. Jerry O'Connell's a bad actor. Jerry O'Connell's a drunken slut. I couldn't take it anymore."

"But why me? I don't say those things," Sarah asked. "Besides, you're the ringleader of the O'Connell bashers."

"You're not bashing me, but you don't attack those who do. There was this saying during World War II. It was all about how you stand by as your neighbors are taken away, but when they come to take you away, there's nobody left to save you. Well, Sarah, there's nobody left to save you, is there?"

"Okay, this is all making very little sense," Sarah replied.

Hunter reached down inside his shirt, and tugged on the skin of his neck. His skin pulled away from his body. Sarah winced. As Hunter pulled more, it seemed like the skin of his face were being peeled away, but Sarah realized that it was just another mask. Hunter's true face was finally revealed.

"Jerry O'Connell?!" Sarah said in shock. "Now I just have to say, your costume before was just the worst disguise EVER!"

"Ah, but you weren't expecting this, were you?" Jerry asked her. "None of the fans expected the star of Sliders to hunt down and murder them! And Peck, I should have killed years ago. Then they would have HAD to make me Executive Producer!"

"Are you drunk?" she questioned.

"No, I'm not drunk."

"You are! You're drunk out of your bloody mind!"

"Am not."

"Are."

"Not."

"Are."

"I am not drunk!" Jerry finally yelled, now raising his knife.

Jerry readied to stab Sarah. His eyes widened into a psychotic stare. Sarah closed her eyes. As Jerry brought down the knife, he was hit by a sudden jolt. His stare became a look of pain. Blood poured from his mouth. He fell to the ground. A samurai sword that once hung on the wall behind him now rested in his back. As a puddle of blood formed, he shuddered and lay still.

Sarah opened her eyes and saw the body of her attacker. Her eyes turned up to see who had killed Jerry. Vortex62 stood near her, blood covering his left shoulder.

"You're alive?" Sarah asked him.

"Yeah," Tex replied, now holding his shoulder.

"How?"

"Faked my death. Figured he'd never expect one of the dead guys to come back," Tex explained.

"But, why didn't you help when Tigs was attacked?" Sarah asked him as he helped her out of the stocks.

"I - uh - sorta fell asleep," Tex confessed, looking at the ground. "Hey! I didn't get much sleep last night!"

They walked to Tigs and felt for a pulse. She was alive. They woke her up.

"Is it over?" Tigs asked.

"It's over, Tigs," Sarah told her.

"Who was the killer?"

"Hunter... I mean, Jerry O'Connell," Sarah explained.

"Jerry O'Connell and Hunter working together?" Tigs asked in shock.

Tex took the chance to explain. "Actually, Hunter WAS Jerry."

Tigs looked confused. "What?"

"We don't really get it either, Tigs," Sarah smiled.

Tigs looked down at herself. "Ugh. Look at me. I'm covered in dust!"

She brushed off her pants, then clapped her hands together to get the dust off of her hands. When she did, all of the doors and windows in the house unlocked. A hidden door in the wall opened, and stairs led to the open yard. The three smiled, looked at each other, and walked toward it.

"I wasn't expecting Hunter," Sarah admitted.

"I was actually kinda expecting Informant. Maybe Hyperspace. He did know that Informant was dead," Tex told them.

"Oh! I forgot my purse!" Tigs yelled, running back into the room to pick her purse off of the dusty, roach covered floor.

"What's the deal with all the stuff in there anyway?" Sarah asked her.

"Oh, I took it. Figured if he was gonna attack us, the least we could do was rip off and sell his stuff," Tigs grinned.

They walked toward the sunlight. Fresh air filled the room. Sun shone through the doorway onto the bodies of their dead friends, but they were too drained to notice.

"I'm just glad it's finally over," Sarah said as they climbed out of the house.

"You were right, Tex. Nobody ever expects the dead guy to come back to life. And now I can finish the job that I started. I will have your life. It's only a matter of time!"

He limped toward the exit. As he walked, he tripped on a set of antique marbles that Tigs had left behind by mistake. He fell onto a table, shaking it violently. When he opened his eyes, he saw a blade hanging over him, quivering. He was on his own guillotine! And the rope was frayed from all the swinging it had recently done...

Jerry's head rolled to the ground, expressionless as ever.