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#bone witch corpse fucker

ydteus · 4 months

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Evil Stick | Ball of Sunshine

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chezzkaa · 7 years

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Fears of a Fake - pt 1/3

A/N: Happy early Halloween! Welcome to the first installment of a 3 part special for the spookiest of holidays, brought to you by the Fakes. Each part is going to be long as dicks, so I apologise in advance (or not?). However, I worked incredibly hard on this to create something original and out of the box for the haunted house concept. I hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing.

Summary: Construction on the haunted house has been in full swing, and all that’s left to do before hair and makeup is the final walk through so that opening night can go as smoothly and spooky as possible. Not knowing what to expect, join Geoff and the rest of the crew on a journey filled with fear, surprises, and feelings (in true Cinders fashion).

WC: 6857

“Alright fuckers, let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Geoff claps his hands, rubbing them together in anticipation as he watches the remaining sets come to fruition. Brushing back your hair with a paint splotched hand you return the pallet with a clatter to the floor, stepping away from the final touches you’d been putting on the welcome sign. The man visibly vibrates in excitement, humming cheerfully as he gathers the pile of security cameras Matt is juggling; ready to scatter them throughout the warehouse you’d been working on for months. “Okay Geoff,” you throw over your shoulder at his prompts, “I’m coming.” Snatching a grubby rag you wipe away the paint smearing your skin, dumping it on the floor and collecting a fresh one to stuff into the waistband of your trackies before joining him by the side door. “Where’s Ray?” his suspicions are warranted, the young man having scampered off at the sound of Geoff’s approaching footsteps. You offer what you hope to be a convincing shrug, his mustache twitching skeptically at your response; “working on his room?”

“Why don’t I believe you?” “I dunno, Geoff. That sounds like a you problem.”

You had to admit, you found it incredibly ironic that a man who love Halloween so much was the biggest scaredy cat you’d ever met. Still, it was the one holiday that he took in his stride. Jack had Thanksgiving, Michael and Gavin had fought it out for bonfire night, and you and Ryan had taken on the Christmas cheer. But Halloween was all Geoff, through and through. As soon as October rolled around the penthouse would be littered with plastic spiders and cobwebs, fake bones and surprisingly joyous ghosts left to haunt every corner he could find. Mechanical creatures were hidden away to guard the fridge in the dead of night, shrieking at the slightest movement and making 2am adventures to the fridge a terrifying ordeal. Finding Gavin curled into a whimpering ball with a witch cackling while he rocked in a pile of stolen cookies had been the last straw; Ryan and yourself moving back into your apartment with Ray in tow so you could raid the cupboards in peace.

That didn’t mean you spent much time in the comfortable confines of your own home. On the contrary, you had spent every night of the past week sleeping on a pile of crinkled tarps in the haunted house you’d diligently constructed; covered in paint and holiday excitement. Geoff didn’t need to tell you how thankful he was – though he did at every opportunity – because the sparkle in his eyes was enough. Every overjoyed gasp brought a smile to your lips, his gushes over your handiwork and creations making the late nights on the floor with Ryan worth it. Now’s no different, his face alight as he dances giddy from side to side while opening the door for you. “I want to do one last check of the rooms before this shit goes live,” he declares, satisfied by your nods of confirmation, “most of the guys should be nearly ready for wardrobe and makeup by now.”

You squint into the glaring sun as you emerge outside, light peeking through the clouds and dusting across a world gripped by autumn. Clusters of deep auburns and warm oranges tumble through the street, leaves dancing on the chilly wind without a care. Pride swells in your chest at the sight of the warehouse, completely transformed and near unrecognisable. The production efforts and bruises had ultimately paid off, the decrepit Victorian home being constructed over a matter of months to now loom eerily above; like it had been planted there for generations. The windows screamed down at you, rattling within the rickety boards clawing at the cracks to hold the structure steady. Inside the walls were the gnarled and battered remains of the years of pain you’d forced inside with a paintbrush and hot glue gun. No effort had been spared in creating an absolutely haunting atmosphere for your guests, every meticulously placed lantern ready to flicker and cast distorted shadows across the twisted attraction and jump in anticipation. “Are you ready to head through?” Your question accompanies the delicate raise of an eyebrow, quietly sussing out the level of bravery Geoff had managed to muster in the short walk through the warm pallet of autumn. He shudders, eyeing the building critically, “no. Let’s get on with it.”

And with that you’re pushing open the doors, wood creaking ominously to reveal the dark and dusty foyer doused in a deep, royal purple hue. A grand staircase curves elegantly up to a level that peers curiously down upon those entering the space, maroon carpet frayed and banister mistreated and tarnished. Large ornate picture frames house oil paintings of corpses dressed in their Sunday best, empty eyes peeking around the white sheets draped across the lavish furniture. Exquisite mirrors lay fractured against walls with blossoming brass flowers, distorting the room and twisting with the shimmer of your own reflection. Each step creeks, echoing softly and rattling against those occupying the room, moths fluttering from the homes they’d nested inside of cushions and coverings. A generous glittering chandelier hangs its head in disgrace in the corner, jewels tinkling faintly with the gentle breeze, a memory long since forgotten as it reminisces over the guests it never truly experienced. Strewn across the floor and crunching under foot are bundles of leaves, spinning together before dispersing into the throbbing silence as you move deeper inside. You take in the glorious fireplace, hearth filled with ash and releasing it into the air, sculptures cracked and crumbling beneath the illusion of time.

It’s through the shadows that the space is able to mourn, abandoned and lost without an owner, nothing more than a fine layer of dust as the final touch the room would ever feel. Through the thick gloom a dotting of lights struggle to flicker and fizz, dousing the room in blackness before surging with an unearthly glow, coating the space in an overwhelming heaviness, tainting the air bitter and sharp. You could almost taste the age in the dust swirling through your lungs, concentrated and stodgy. Everything almost vibrates in anticipation; every noise dull and soft as the walls absorb the haunting sounds humming through the space, floor quickly devouring the thuds of your feet, chasing your movements hungrily. You don’t have to see Geoff’s face to recognise the weight settling nervously across his shoulders, shuddering with the wails of the wind clawing through the shattered windows, bringing with it fragments of a story you’d expertly woven.

Still you turn to him, the extravagant doors slamming shut with a subtle shift of breeze fanning from your grace, Geoff jumping with a high pitched gasp to clutch his chest and glaring at the offending structure. “This is incredible, Y/N,” he praises, pressing closer to the wall and reaching out a finger to touch the dark smears splattered throughout the room “it almost looks real.” “It is real.” “Gah!” Panicked he bounces frantically, catching the rag you snag from your track pants and toss to him; wiping his fingers with relief. “I don’t do things by halves, Pops,” you point out, opening up your arms and spinning slowly in the space until the lights flicker out once again. With a frown you wander towards Geoff, brows furrowed in confusion and concern. A spark sees the room yet again doused in the amber glow that illuminates your skin, having ghosted to stand before him in the dark. “Geoff – please stop screaming – there’s a problem with the lights.” “Please stop jumping out at me, that’s not nice.” “I literally moved, like, 10 steps.” “In the dark.” “That makes no difference.” “It makes all the difference,” he rebuts, hands moving to hold the air and shake it in frustration, “it makes it fucking creepy.”

You roll your eyes with a sigh, letting him win this round as the room is again plunged into darkness; lights failing to flicker as you’d programmed, the frown returning to your face. “See?” You complain into the shadows, Geoff’s breathing quickening until the room is lit again; “it’s suppose to fade every 7 to 15 seconds, go black and then flicker for another 8. We aren’t getting any flickers, just on and off.” Geoff takes notice, face clouding in concern with the creases folding his forehead. He, more than anybody, wanted everything to be perfect for the big reveal to the public - 4 hours away and counting down. “We’ll ask Matt about it when we finish the rooms,” he finally concludes, glancing around the space and rolling up the cuff on his dress shirt, crooked tattooed fingers tugging on fabric and playing with the translucent button. “Speaking of which,” you point a directing finger to the bag slumped at his feet, “don’t forget the cameras.” Geoff nods, waving a handful at you before stashing them in the corner of the entrance, between the banister, and nestled within the fire place. “Nice, we’ll be able to get everything from here. Matt’s coming through later, right?” “That’s the plan. He’s probably still working in the kitchen. The Buzz saw’s been giving me some trouble.” “Fucking thing nearly took Jack’s hands off this morning,” you remember, the blades cutting through your memory with a series of sharp whirls and shudders. “Exactly. Would be great for the production value, not so good for ratings.”

You laugh nervously at the thought while ascending the stairs with Geoff, knowing Jack would fully consider being torn to shreds by a buzz saw simply for the content. She was a fearless woman, and it was honestly terrifying. Still, you put her out of your mind as you ghost through the hallway steeped in cobwebs that seemingly stretches on forever, walls and floor curving at unusual angles that throw off your balance. The door at the end is modest, deep purple and reaching just above your elbows with a golden ornate handle. You stare down at it perplexed, the ceiling pressing against the top of your head and carpet scuffing up uneven beneath your feet. “You’ve got to be kidding,” you huff, falling to a crouch and opening the door as Geoff giggles in excitement. “This is so awesome.”

Working through the doorway the room expands, the underside of the bed looming before you. Dark and ominous, a soft scratching emanates from beneath it; claws catching against the rotten wood. You’re immediately on edge when you stand, not wanting to lose sight of the impenetrable darkness seething from beneath the sheets. Still, the bright orange and purple light haunts the space, uneasy as it drapes over the bedroom and burrows into the corners. Geoff follows behind you, jittery wines humming from his lips as he spots the seemingly empty space beneath the bed. He quickly scampers to your side as his eyes dart around the room, taking in the rickety wooden frame and moth-eaten sheets, tendrils of cobwebs twirling from the ceiling and catching in the faint, whispering breeze. The sizable wardrobe door creaks open before bouncing shut with a multitude of sharp taps, furniture cluttered with plumes of feathers and floorboards riddled with tiny bones. More than anything it was the low hum that pressed against your eardrums like a speaker’s feedback, raising the hair on your neck higher than the cold air sneaking past the curtains and nibbling on your fingers.

“This is fucking cool,” you breathe, inching further into the room with Geoff sticking to you like glue. Each step kicks up dust, bones rattling across the floor as you approach, making sure to keep your feet out of reach from the blank space. “I dare you to look under the bed.” “What?” squeaks Geoff, shuddering and shaking his head frantically; “no, no you do it!” “C’mon Geoff,” you try to reason, refusing to turn your back on the bed or shuddering wardrobe. “We have to make sure everything’s working for tonight.” “Oh no,” his holds up a hand that trembles as feverishly as his voice, accusing you of whatever foul betrayal he was constructing in his fearful mind; “I’ll give you a raise.” “You literally don’t pay me. It’s a first in, fight to the death, type deal.” “And a paid week off.” You roll your eyes in astonishment, watching him shuffle anxiously as the scratching starts again. You jump slighting at the sound, body running cold and jaw setting tight in defiance. “Geoff, I’m not looking under the bed.” “I’ll pay for your honeymoon.”

You’re on your knees in an instant, bones fracturing beneath the collision with the scuffed wooden boards. Stealing a deep breath you stretch out a hand, fingers tentatively tugging at sheet’s hem while the room creaks and moans. Your heart hammers in your ears with an uncomfortable ache, a flurry of scratches setting your teeth on edge while your nerves shoot off in a panic. Everything inside you screams for you to run, pulling aside far more difficult than you could have imagined, the strain stinging the backs of your eyes while you apprehensively search for something – anything – lurking in the darkness.

“Oh, hey guys.” “AHHHH!” “AHHHH!” Geoff’s shriek has you bolting upright, head smacking painfully against the lower bed frame as you scamper to you feet and whirl on Jeremy; the young man mirroring the elder’s screech. Breathing heavily and glaring with enough ferocity you could start a fire; you watch each of the two men continue to scream, Geoff bouncing in fear and Jeremy looking confused. “Hey, hey!” You yell, trying to calm them down by placing a hand on Geoff’s shoulder, lips pressing into a thin line as he jumps again but eventually settles. “Why the fuck are you screaming?” Jeremy shrugs, cheerful as ever while he glows beneath the throbbing orange and purple lights. “I dunno; we were all doing it. I just wanted to be part of something.” You frown, Geoff’s head falling into his hands as he chuckles nervously through his fingers, Jeremy patting him on the shoulder apologetically with a “sorry pal.”

“You still owe me my honeymoon,” you remind the tattooed man with a playful jab, relieved as he begins to recover and control his shaking. He grows more confident when exploring the room, Jeremy’s presence helping ease the anxiety that’d been building up in his chest and clogging his throat. “Fine, a deal’s a deal,” he huffs, poking a spider sat in one of the many webs, jumping away when he realises it wasn’t a prop, “where were you wanting to go, and how much is it going to hurt?” “Greece, and a lot.” At your words Jeremy gives you a puzzled look, a mixture of sympathy and confusion shifting in his eyes with the unspoken questions you knew to be bubbling between his lips.

Geoff doesn’t notice, instead turning to the shorter man with hair glowing neon, a proud beam on his face. “You’ve done a great job, Lil J.” He sweeps a hand around the room, Jeremy sharing his grin. “Yeah,” you offer him a one armed hug and a compliment, “this place is fucking creepy.” “Thanks,” he delights with a cheer, “don’t wanna brag or anything, but the end scare will be freaky as fuck.” “You gonna tell us what you’re planning?” Geoff’s inquiry is met with a stubborn headshake, a knowing grin creeping across Jeremy’s lips; “nope, you’ll have to wait and see.” You clap Geoff on the back, signalling that it was time to move on if you were still intending to explore the other rooms before the curtains came up, his deep sigh vibrating against your fingers and burrowing into your elbow “can’t blame a man for trying.” “Hey, when you see Michael can you give him this? Careful, its cold.” He turns to retrieve a burlap sack, its contents clinking as he presses it into your waiting hand, surprisingly heavy. “Sure,” confirms Geoff, tossing a few cameras in his direction from his own rucksack, “as long as you put these up.” “Deal.”

With that you’re squeezing back out of the tiny door and into the constricting hallway, racing out to avoid letting the confusion keep playing havoc with your stomach. Geoff is close behind, a permanent smile on his face whenever he wasn’t utterly terrified. You had to hand it to him; you envied his bravery and love of a holiday that constantly kept him up at night. Walking together you move back downstairs, waving at Jack as she talks animatedly with a Trevor clad in a dark sweatshirt with a printed skull, his head nodding vigorously while the man beside him in a baseball tee tries his best not to seem lost. Noticing your descent Jack waves you down, a smile as broad as her shoulders adorning her freckled face, eyes sparkling warmly into your embrace. “Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here,” she exclaims, pulling away to muse Geoff’s already chaotic hair, the man blushing deeply; “I wanted to go over some stuff for the tour. I’m in your room so there’s some crap I wanted to make sure you’re cool with me doing.” “Of course! We can talk about it during hair and makeup,” you reassure, smiling up at the woman towering over 6ft in her reliable heels before turning your attention to Trevor and his friend.

“So, who’s this?” You motion to the man beside the blond, his eyes wide and looking at you in awe. “Oh, this is Alfredo; he’s helping me us tonight. We’ve known each other since I was like, 10.” “I dunno dude,” says Alfredo, his voice deep and warm “it feels a lot longer than that.” “It’s because you hate me.” “Oh that’s right,” he recalls fondly before elbowing Trevor in the side with a cheeky and bright grin, “how could I forget?” “Ouch, maybe because you’re a gargantuan ass?” He rubs his arm, hopping from side to side before continuing, “I’ve been meaning to introduce you fuck for a while. Sauce, this is the Cheshire.”

You offer out a hand to Alfredo while expecting him to flinch away like the many others, pleasantly surprised as he takes it eagerly and shakes. “It’s really nice to meet you” he gushes before you get the chance, eyes alight with excitement as he lets your hand go and leans towards Trevor, whispering loudly; “is this the girl that nearly killed you that one time?” Trevor angles closer to him, staring you dead in the eyes with a serious expression while replying, “yeah.” “Cool,” he breathes, ecstatic, “fight me.” “What?” “He’s serious,” laughs Jack, watching him fondly, “he’ll fight anything.” You roll your weight, hand making its way you your hip while raising an eyebrow, accepting his challenge. “You really think you could take me?” “Oh god no,” he shakes his head, still smiling “but think of the story.” You laugh, peels of cheer bouncing around the foyer while lightly punching his shoulder, his hand gripping the site with a grin, “I like you.” “Did you hear that?” He turns eagerly to Trevor, clutching the tops of his arms and shaking him, incredibly excited, “the Cheshire likes me.” “Yeah, that’s rare. Normally she threatens every friend I bring home, and the ones I don’t. She just threatens everything in general. And, err... you do know she can hear you fangirling, right?” “Right,” he drops his hands, facing you again with a forcibly blank expression while Trevor groans in mock embarrassment, “gotta be cool.” “Oh lord, Fredo just stop. This hurts, this physically hurts me.”

“He’s a great shot,” comments Geoff from your right, looking at Alfredo with fatherly pride and ignoring Trevor’s displeasure, “he was our stand in sniper for the harder jobs after Ray died.” “God rest his soul,” you chuckle, reaching a hand out to touch Trevor’s and gain his attention; “you wanna tag along?” He nods vigorously, collecting some equipment he’d stashed momentarily on one of the covered plush seats, stuffing the items into a bag. “Hell yes. Please take me away from his idiot. I’ve gotta talk with Ryan about fog machines and fire hazards.” “He doing that ‘go hard or go home’ thing again?” You joke fondly, mind wandering to the mischievous glint that would always sparkle in his eyes; Trevor affirming your suspicion before you could even finish your sentence. You sigh, smiling affectionately at a man who had quickly become one of your closest friends during the dark period after Gareth, “what would we do without you laying down the fire code?” “You’d probably have eaten each other by now, if I were to guess,” he teases, quickly bidding Alfredo and Jack goodbye before following Geoff and yourself to the right of the foyer, Geoff’s mustache twitching in amusement; “you’re not wrong.” “Err, I never am?” “But what about that time with the marshmallows?” His eyes go wide, face wiped free of emotion. “We don’t talk about that.”

You’re laughing as you push open the next door, sound catching in your throat and falling to the floor once the room comes into view. Before you can react you’re slipping across the tiled surface and landing with a painful bump, mind unable to keep up with the world tumbling around you. Confused you lift your hand to your head, fingers slick with red; liquid seeping into your trackies with a sticky nauseating warmth. Trevor slides to your side, concern furrowing his brows while you take in the pool of blood shining in the lights. “You alright?” He starts leaning down to help you up only to topple over himself, clattering to the floor with the crunch of his elbows. If you weren’t so disgusted by the smell you’d laugh, but instead the putrid stench of rotting flesh churned in your stomach and burned your nose. “I think so,” you reply while trying to stand, unsteady as Trevor follows your lead, the two of you using each other to shuffle to your feet.

“You guys need to watch where you’re going,” chuckles Geoff, inching his way carefully into the room by gripping onto the walls. “This doesn’t exactly seem safe” frowns Trevor, skidding into the centre of the kitchen before looking around. Completely white bar the metal appliances, the walls, ceiling, and floor are splattered with blood and bio matter that viscerally glug between the tile grout. Hunks of meat pile in the corners and scatter along the counter tops, the sound of flies incessant from the speakers and gnawing on the hair rising across your neck. It isn’t the wicked sharp buzz saw that adorns the back counter that catches your attention, half a human carcass slapped against it ready for dividing; nor is it the utensils and instruments mid mutilation of organs, dissections clumsy and rough. Instead it’s the prep station set up on the centre island. The white marble slab drips blood like a gruesome water feature, puddles shifting in the lights that are far too bright, glaring down and blinding. Atop the bench and marinading in the gore is a mixture of human odds and ends. Finger tips and toe nubs tossed carelessly together with peeled vegetables, parsley garishly garnishing a set of plates overflowing with what you can only describe as an unidentifiable mush.

With a lurch bile rises in the back of your throat, a sickly cold seeping across your skin and crawling with it. You try to push past the large pots boiling over on the stove, attempt to ignore spice bottles decorating the counter tops. All your thoughts form a terrified plea, fearful eyes darting to Geoff as he stands uncomfortably in the doorway. “Please tell me this isn’t real.” He doesn’t respond immediately, rather suppressing a gag behind his hand at the sight, an unpleasant noise forming in the back of his throat. “I, err... It’s not real.” “Now say it like you mean it?” You skid as you round on him, glare losing impact as you slip again to snatch at the fridge handle. The door rips open, guts tumbling to your feet with a wet slap before you’re suddenly shrieking. Back on your hands and knees you’re scampering backwards, bumping into Geoff’s legs and tries to suppress the cowardice shaking through your being. His eyes are wide, taking it all in with a shudder he has no need to hide, “It’s not real from what I know. I don’t indiscriminately murder. But, err; I didn’t pick up the supplies.”

Trevor runs a trembling hand over his white blond hair, clumping it red as he surveys the room with appalled eyes, “who’s is this?” “This is my station,” admits Geoff sheepishly, mustache twitching under the astonishment dancing with the disgust. Trevor’s wide eyes turn on the tattooed man, bewildered and accusing. “This is a fucking hazard,” he determines, and Geoff pulls a face, an irritated clip forming in the back of his throat, “Jesus, who anointed you the safety police?” “You did, Geoff.” “Oh yeah.”

You can barely hear the pair over the pounding in your ears, using all of your strength to force back the images the room was trying to drag up. It had been months since you’d seen such a raw and blatant disarray of violence and torment; having avoided it at all costs after the torture of Garry and brutal murder of Gareth. Cheshire had made life difficult, the first month after the ordeal seeing you revert back to the angry, uncontrollable force of destruction you’d feared; the woman more than capable of killing whoever stood in her way during a fit of rage. You couldn’t risk a relapse, meaning you’d done all that you possibly could to stay out of interrogations and kept to the cleanest methods possible in an attempt to suppress the Cheshire’s twisted enjoyment. Now sitting in a pool of blood surrounded by the trinkets adorning her world you can’t escape the pains of fear as they pang in your chest, mind flooding with memories that left you panicked and tight.

“Okay, so if we could just clean this mess up?” continues Trevor over the anxiety attack you were trying to fight, hearing his words swim between the numbers you were counting down; “people need to be able to run screaming. Not make a pile by the exit.” Geoff offers a defeated sigh as you shift to reciting your 7 times tables, the taste of iron rushing in your mouth as you gnaw the inside of your cheek, “alright, I’ll minimise it. But I didn’t do all of this,” he gestures to the horror show coaxing your unease “you can blame Lindsay.” “I will blame Lindsay,” you spit with stubborn eyes, refusing to look away from the white patch of ceiling you’d found to focus on, “I’ve soaked up most of the fucking set.” “Exactly!” Geoff retorts in triumph, Trevor rolling his eyes and looking extremely uncomfortable. “Just do your camera thing and let’s... keep moving. My clothes are starting to stiffen. I’m not gonna be able to walk by the end of this.”

You were thankful that the conversation was coming to an end so that you could leave, your breathing having become shaky and difficult to hide. You’d rather the crew didn’t know of the anxieties you housed towards gore and the key it possessed to the Cheshire’s cage; preferring to keep such private vulnerability to yourself and the small, closely knit group of men constantly by your side. Somehow Ray had already figured out your fear before it occurred, Jeremy quickly catching on after the first instance you entered the interrogation after the Gareth ordeal; the fight to stay in control catching you off guard as the Cheshire reared and refused to back down. As Jeremy clamped your favourite wire strippers around a man’s fingers the room started to spin, mind screaming throughout Cheshire’s cold smiles as they laced with the hours you were captive in your own body. Ryan had witnessed your struggles from behind the glass, sharing the memories that burnt a foul taste in his mouth and left his throat thick; angry yells amidst pacing running ruts of emotion into the room. Jon had finally smashed his cyber against the glass window once Geoff had left unaware, the sound enough to shatter through the Cheshire’s vice grip and leave you sobbing over the body you’d mutilated.

You stand quickly and snatch the bag Jeremy had tasked you with delivering, not needing to be asked twice. Rushing out of the room you slide across the floor, feet kicking open the door in a smooth motion to greet the fresh air gladly. Gasping and heaving out of sight of the two men slipping over one another you press your palms against your eyes, desperately trying to wipe away the images that clawed at your sanity; Cheshire looming dangerously just below the surface, her nails scratching beneath your skin.

You don’t notice the water logging down the carpet until it releases like a sponge beneath your feet. The gentle trickling comes next, tracing the walls with soggy wallpaper and beading across the ceiling; sagging beneath the weight. Though the hallway was only short and intended to join two horrors together, it still played havoc with the tightness in chest. Steady drips pooling uneasily in your stomach, humidity unbearable and drowning your lungs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the water pooling out from under the next door; acutely aware of Geoff and Trevor joining you, their faces sharing your own mask of shock and welling concern. Fear rocks through you as a deep sorrowful bellow greets your first step forward; layers of mourning and loss cascading together and resonating painfully in your bones. Geoff flinches into the blond, the pair wrapping their arms around each other in defense while they keep pace from behind. You try to ignore the sight if blood clotting and cracking through the creases of your hand when you reach for the handle, nails caked and shirt sleeves stained. Apprehension catches in your throat as another inhuman moan as deep as a whale’s call shakes through the handle and fizzes against your finger tips.

The gasp of an airlock has you jumping back against the two men, door swinging open to funnel a rush of water into the hallway, debris catching in the carpet. It’s not long before your feet are submerged and tangled in seaweed. Though the expanse is dark as night the soft tinge of green encases the lonely and weighted atmosphere. Water ripples with no end, haunting greens bouncing off its surface to reflect over your skin. The room is far larger than any you remember constructing, your eyes able to make out crumbling concrete walls submerged in the water. The occasional beam of light illuminates the room and dances with dust to fracturing through the shallows, a cracked and decaying lighthouse almost entirely buried beneath the watery tomb.

“Alright kids,” claps Trevor, fishing out a clear plastic bag and holding it open, “hand in your phones.” With little resistance you’re slipping your technological lifeline into his grasp, Geoff doing the same. “Why do you have this?” Your question is met with a nonchalant shrug, the blond zipping up the bag and sliding it into his backpack along with the camera’s Geoff had been tasked to hand out. “I’m always prepared.” “Oh god, it’s a sandwich bag from lunch,” notices Geoff, jabbing a finger at the small scrawl of Trevor’s name in the bottom right corner. “Did your Mom pack your food today?” Geoff giggles, face brightening while Trevor’s remains smooth and serious; amusement dancing in the darkness of his eyes. “Please stop asking me questions I can’t give you the answer too.”

Turning the attention back to the room, you’d long since concluded that volunteering to check the attractions was one of the worst decisions you’d ever made. You were only 3 rooms deep and facing your forth horror; knowing there were still another 2 to get through. Your chest tightens at the thought, already having had enough for one day. Intense stress and adrenaline wasn’t something your body coped with anymore, and you’d much prefer turning back. But you were stuck, no escape without pushing through the mysterious waters or retreating into the human slaughterhouse.

"Ladies first," offers Trevor from behind, voice shaking you back to reality while he peers over your shoulder to survey the depths. You turn to him in refusal and point a finger to Geoff – who panics and shakes his head frantically. "You heard the man," you push, snatching Geoff’s wrist and dethatching him from the blond whose face is overwhelmed with relief; "ladies first." Resisting Geoff enters the water, its surface lapping against his hips while he whines; another rumbling moan ricocheting across the space and chasing through the shallows. Still he wades forward, nervous trembling hums vibrating from his lips to patter into the water swelling around his movements. Elbows up and hands shielding his face, Geoff only hoped that whatever monster lurked in the depths would spare him.

Following his lead you sink into the water, waist disappearing into the pool before you’re floating in the swell; floor recoiling away from you into nothingness. Trevor apprehensively joins you, accepting the reassuring hand offered to him above the water; mirroring Geoff’s raised elbows. Clinging to one another you wade after your boss, mournful wails catching around your knees and forcing through the fabric plastered against your skin. Despite the fear bogging you down you can’t deny the relief coursing through as the blood washes away, cleansing your body of the Cheshire while she retreats back to the cage you’d built.

A shriek from Geoff halts your scan and search of the water, his body flailing back towards you in a fountain of frantic splashes. “Something grabbed me! Oh my god, oh god it touched me!" "Geoff,” you fret, releasing Trevor’s hand to haul the boss comfortingly close; his arms winding around your waist while he cowers into your side. Trembles ripple tauntingly across the surface before something surges forward suddenly with a vicious roar, rushing straight towards you. You don’t think, instead forcing Geoff and Trevor back in with a spin before you crouch beneath the water. Blinded and ears logged you launch forward to cut through the heavy darkness like a bullet through the air, body connecting with the creature and arms clenching around it. Treading water your feet find the floor, bounding upwards to drag it to burst through the surface; catapulting into the open space. A curving back directs your feet to collide against its firm body, falling back from a kick that sees it squealing away.

“Wait, Gavin?!” Trevor’s exclamation snaps some sense into you, the fear dictating your movements ebbing away to be replaced with confusion; eyes scanning the water you’d flung your friend into. “Oh, you’re fucking kidding me,” you groan, the sound of Michael’s laughter now booming against the walls, Lindsay and Meg’s cackling quickly joining in. Splashing forward you struggle with the current swelling through your clothes, bogged down as you pass Michael in his swimming trunks and gripping a rubber ring. “Oh my god,” he gasps through his tears as you push him impatiently aside, “this is fucking incredible!” Geoff mirrors his sentiment, giggling uncontrollably while Trevor stands in the centre of the room; shock and amusement leaving his mouth hanging open and head shaking slowly. “But what if I killed him?” You panic while searching the depths, following the dull bird noises emanating from the pool. “I certainly hope so,” muses Trevor teasingly, finally regaining control of his body and paddling over to Lindsay, of who offers him a drink from the cooler stashed inside of the light house. Michael remains unfazed, clambering into the ring and floating lazily through the room. “Nah,” he smiles while waving away your words, “he had it comin’.”

And incredibly loud gasp from behind has you reeling, lashing out a fist and punching the offender without thought. As soon as you realise you retract your hand, staring at Gavin as he clutches his nose and complains through his laughs. “You fucking asshole,” you seethe, jabbing him in the chest only for him to dissolve into more giggles; Meg yelling out your point score from across the way while drifting on a floaty. Gavin simply shrugs, collecting his beer from Michael without a care in the world. Sloshing to your left Trevor makes his way over, a beam splitting across his face. “You’re lucky we have that weapons ban tonight, Gav,” he scolds, draping an arm across your shoulder and leaning in to point to your face, “she’d have stabbed your ass so hard.” “I would have,” you admit, “you wouldn’t sit for a week.” “He already doesn’t sit,” pipes in Geoff, swaying through the water and dragging Lindsay and Meg on their floaty towards the conversation cheerfully, “I make sure of that.”

“Hello everybody, yes yes please take your seats. Welcome to the Team Nice Dynamite-” “and Free Willy, don’t forget about us,” interjects Lindsay, Michael waving away her words before shooting her an affectionate beam and continuing; “Nice Willy... err, Free Dynamite... Dynamite Willy – look what matters isn’t that we don’t have a team name. What matters is that we combined our rooms to make this!” Michael gestures wide and proud to the space, the green glow seeping into his skin and dusting the tops of the water. “It’s pretty coo,l” you admit, hand going to your hair to push it back, Trevor bouncing beside you. “Are you kidding?” He squeaks in amazement, peering around now that he’s safe, “this is awesome.” “Aww, thank you,” smiles Meg warmly, sliding into the water to join you on the right, thumb coming to rest on your cheek while she rubs away the running make up.

“I can’t believe you got all this done without anyone knowing.” Lindsay cheers victoriously at your statement, hair as pink as bubblegum, “everyone loves surprises.” “Except when stupid British assholes grab you,” you retort with a half hearted glare at the offender, who’s eyes narrow. “Or when a pisspot tries to drown you.” You frown at Gavin, eyes forming slits as he shifts uncomfortably in the realisation you’d heard him, “what did you just call me?” “Nothing,” he squeaks while scooting away from your icy gaze, hand plunging back into the water to search for the bag Jeremy had given you, hoping it had remained intact.

“Alright, alright!” Geoff gestures sharp and dramatically, “as much as I love getting fucked by my friends my balls are starting to chafe; I’d really like to get moving.” Fingers clasping the fabric you haul it from the depths and toss it to Michael – of who falls off the floaty with a yell. “I don’t know what’s happening here,” Geoff’s hand sweeps the space before beckoning Trevor to follow his sways through the water “but I want nothing to do with it. Good job, blah, blah, and keep me outta it. Also!” He reels, jabbing a finger at Lindsay while Michael opens the bag to pull out a large dry ice container, the cold stinging his fingers. Geoff’s eyes narrow as he reaches the exit to let you pull yourself up first, wringing out your clothes. “What did you do to my room?” Lindsay shrugs innocently, as though the man’s words weren’t scornful accusations. “I did exactly what you told me to do. Go big or go home. I err, also solved our gang problem for the time being.”

“Err, hey guys?” Everyone whips round to stare at Alfredo as he stands at the edge of the room, arms filled with equipment and ropes. His eyes are pleading, the soft pout of his lips jutting out in confusion. “How and I suppose to put up Cheshire’s supports with all this water?” Gavin wastes no time in pushing one of the sturdier floats over to the entrance, Alfredo refusing loudly while Trevor paddles over to assist; the remainder of the room joining to hold the float steady. “No, this is not okay.” “You’ll be fine,” disregards Michael, throwing you a sniggering beam and motioning for you to keep moving. “You guys go ahead,” Trevor mirrors as Alfredo gingerly places a foot onto the precarious platform before wobbling and toppling to his knees, waves rocking against your shoulders; “I’ll catch up with you.” “You heard the boss,” claps Geoff against your back, forcing your eyes away from the man now shaking unsteadily to his feet, staring up in bewilderment at the beams he was supposed to be working with. Now behind you Gavin’s bright idea can be heard taking him under the floaty and pushing upwards to launch an unready Alfredo into the air; arms managing to snag onto a support platform. You’re laughing at the sound of his demand for someone to turn the lights on, gesturing for Geoff to follow you up and out of the room.

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