#prettydead

@prettydead (courier 6) said: “ you’re not scared. ”

//HOLY SHIT IT HAS BEEN AGES!

The October air carried that crisp Mercy always loved, autumn leaves and caramel. The season of masks, the time of year that people actually pay to be scared. The latter part being absolutely ridiculous to her, considering she dealt on a daily basis with nightmarish things.

Regardless, the month of October meant that there was every weekend, another pre-Halloween party, another haunted maze, another excuse go out at night other than patrolling. She didn’t mind the parties dressing up, that was fun. But haunted houses? No, thank you. The whole “let’s pretend to summon demons” thing hit a little too close to home when she actually knew demons were real. So, when the flyers for The Crimson Inferno started popping up all over town, she ignored them. 

Her friend Adam, however, did not. He had been obsessed from day one, talking about how the attraction was built inside an old, abandoned hotel, how it was going to be “the scariest experience of the decade,” and how he’d managed to land a gig there. Mercy had rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm, warning him that the place gave her bad vibes.  

Not that she remembered any of those tonight. She’d gone to a pre-Halloween party downtown, glowing paint and loud music included, just a night of dancing, laughing and fun. Until, around 11:30, her phone started buzzing. Six missed calls. Three texts. All from Adam.

‘Something’s wrong, there are people here in cloaks! The basement symbols glowing red!’ ‘I can’t leave help me. S.O.S.’ ‘Now would be a good time to be the slayer!’

At first, she thought it was a joke. But as the calls went unanswered, that uneasy feeling began to eat at her nerves. By the sixth attempt, she was already in an Uber, heart pounding faster and faster, speeding toward the edge of town. And when the car finally pulled up, she stepped out into silence, just the looming shell of The Crimson Inferno, the red neon sign flickering faintly.

The place looking even worse close up. And yet, she reached for the door handle, twisting it, only to find that it was locked.  For a moment she hesitated, maybe he was hiding inside, waiting to jump out with a plastic pitchfork. But then again, he wasn’t cruel. Something in her gut told her this wasn’t a joke. So, with one deep breath, she took a step back and then kicked. The old door splintering on impact and slamming open with a loud crack.

The first thing that hit her was the smell. Incense. Candles. And something metallic. Again, she hesitated, though, she eventually stepped inside, noticing burning candles attached to the wall, casting shadows over pentagram, which only added more to her doubt.   

She moved deeper into the building, her red hood brushing her shoulders, the costume she had thrown together for the party, which now felt wildly inappropriate. Little Red Riding Hood, emphasis on little and not remotely practical for slaying. She hadn’t exactly come prepared for a fight. Just her wooden stake, tucked inside her thigh holster, the one weapon she never went anywhere without.

And then she saw it,  a trail of dark, half-dried blood smeared along the floorboards. It led across the hall, straight to a basement door.

“Of course it’s the basement,” she muttered.

Everything screamed at her to turn around, but the thought of Adam being in trouble down there, scared, hurt… well, that kept her rooted in her place. Whether she liked it or not, she had to get down that basement.  

But just as she approached the doorknob, she heard something.

Three knocks.

She jumped, before she forced out a soft, breathy scoff.

Smash or Pass?

@prettydead (Barb) said: what are you trying to prove?

        "Nothin'," he answers a touch too quickly as he adjusts his tie in the mirror. She comes up behind him, her left hand on his left shoulder, her chin resting on his right, a knowing look in her eyes. Cooper sighs, looking at her through the reflection. "C'mon now, you really think I belong here any more than they do?"