I know I don't write for House of Anubis- but I had to submit something for bs13's horror story contest. I'm sorry it's soooooo ooc, but that's because it's my, what, second fic of these characters? I don't even know. First thing's first- (I'm the realest) yeah but okay this is a Jara thing, probably Jabian, Peddie, Amfie, you get the jist of it. Everything Bianca ships, it's jumbled in here. I think. Sorta. Inspired by lots of things, but mainly Panic! At the Disco and Pierce the Veil, as well as some shows like Hannibal, Dexter, Sherlock, plenty of things I don't watch. Serial killers anyone? Alright so like here's some stuff:

1. These characters aren't connected, it's an AU where Anubis House doesn't exist.

2. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. BLOOD. GORE. YA GET IT.

3. I think it's still T-rated, but I might up it to M if I place some of my worst ideas in here.

*whispers* I'm sorry it's terrible and the first chapter doesn't make sense and the characters seem sucky but hopefully everything starts tying in soon enough.

Everything was red.

Stained red.

Dirty garage floor splattered with it, intermingling with the black hue of the stone, his porcelain skin tinted in the dripping color. He was in awe of it all, leaning against a fallen rack of boxes and chuckling, running soiled fingers through slack blond tufts of hair until the strands ebbed the same rich wine tint.

There was sniffling, sobs, cries of how she couldn't believe he would do this to her, other things he was all too happy to tune out because the silly bint wouldn't shut up and she hadn't for the past half hour as he admired his work.

The pool of crimson around the young woman's tiny, battered frame only grew in length and spread about her tangled auburn hair and ripped apparel. He smirked, oh, how it felt to see her writhing and helpless where no one could hear her screams.

Her hazel eyes were ringed in cuts and scars, fresh and old, arm twisted in an unnatural position and legs curved inward, like a rag doll tossed inside out and thrown into the fetal position, her limp body barely breathing and blood bubbling from her throat as she attempted to speak, the same ruddy pigment trickling down a nasty wound on the back of her head.

Yes, he'd outdone himself this time. It was beautiful, a true masterpiece, if he said so himself. Such a shame she couldn't see it herself, she'd always liked art. Such a creative girl she was, babbling on excitedly about something she adored, auras or whatever she liked. He always tuned her out then, tuned her out now.

Tears were still squeezing out of her eyes, though they wouldn't for long, and he was pleased to see blood fuse into the drops of fluid that rolled down her rosy cheeks.

When she died, it was a shivering thing to watch. Her struggling limbs went slack, her eyes grew glassy, her shuddering chest fell silent and she was dead.

Also a pity she was dead, too, he'd sort of liked to string along this woman. As an engaged man, of course, he never made this relationship intimate. No, the relationships he had on the sides were purely friendships, though it never took long for those women he befriended to try and seduce him, which had happened. The same case with this girl.

Ah, well, they ought to have figured better. Usually, when this happens, he offs them solely for amusement. Artistic sentiments, he justifies, as always. Not that anyone's suspected him, after all, because who would ever guess the measly friend, not even romantically involved with the victim, would be to blame? He supposed he could just reject them, but where would the fun lie in that? It's just a bit of amusement for himself, no real harm done. At least not to himself.

Everyone seeks pleasures, do they not?

Just as smoothly as he'd arrived, Jerome Clarke left the dead carcass on the ground without sparing her a second, regretful glance over his shoulder.

The laminated pages of the folded menu swished through Alfie Lewis' fingertips, the man's mouth twisted in concentration towards the brightly colored pictures of tantalizing courses. If there was anything Alfie took seriously, it was food. Ordering lunch at a restaurant was top priority at the moment and little else would convince him otherwise, hence the intensity of which he stared at the printed words and photographed food. It was only until he received a sharp jab in between the shoulder blades that Alfie finally tore his fixating eyes away from the tall booklet.

"Lewis," Jerome greeted his oldest friend, seating himself across from Alfie.

"There you are," Alfie said cheerfully, "Was afraid you weren't going to show for a little bit. Twenty minutes late and then some."

"I see how worried you were," Jerome tilted his head to indicate the appetizers Alfie had around the plates.

"You should feel honored. I stress eat."

"You eat anything and everything, Lewis," Jerome said, grinning, opening his own menu to scrutinize the choices.

"Still a bastard as always, Jerry," Alfie declared, but a smile split his face not a second later to let his best friend know that he was kidding.

"So what's new?" Jerome laid his menu flat on the table, arching a perfect eyebrow at his friend.

"New with what?" Alfie played dumb.

"Don't toy with me, Lewis, you planned this lunch for a reason."

"I haven't seen my bestest buddy in three months, that's what," Alfie insisted. "I want to catch up. You fell off the face of the earth, it seemed, getting that position in the fancy-schmancy office of yours and getting engaged to some girl I've never met."

"If I didn't know better, Lewis, I'd say you were jealous," Jerome smirked. "How's the dead-end job as a receptionist?"

"Jealous of you? In your dreams," Alfie was still good-natured about everything, leaning back in his chair. "The job's not that bad anymore, but it sucks not having you there to prank call people on breaks. Though- uh- you remember that blond? Amber Millington?"

Jerome snorted. "How could I forget. Cut off of Daddy's money and working as a secretary. Everything about her just screamed diva. Say, remember when we used to sneak into her desk and ruin all her memos?" He snickered. "My favorite was when we changed that all-company memo she sent out to say 'Amber sucks fat ones'. I never thought a tiny little bimbo like her could pack a punch like that one she gave me."

"Right, her," Alfie suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, we're sort of- together now." He found interest in his menu again, not looking Jerome in the eyes.

"You're joking," Jerome was aghast. "You hooked up with Miss Priss? With Amber 'stick-up-her-arse' Millington? You're bluffing, mate, you've got to be."

"She's not prissy," Alfie muttered in defense of his girlfriend. "She's getting better about the whole 'I'm better than you lower-class imbeciles' stuff she used to say."

"Lewis, one of my fondest memories of working as a receptionist has to be both of us pissing her off, and now you're telling me you and Millington are a thing," Jerome clarified.

"Amber's nice when you get to know her," Alfie defended his choice of a lover. "Besides, that's not why we're here. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't too 'big and important' to hang out with an old friend. That's what this lunch is for."

"Why, Lewis, if you're setting out the hints that you're interested-"

"Oh, piss off. Tell me how you met this mystery girl you're engaged to," Alfie interrupted him.

"Is that what our lunch is coming to, Alfie? Chattering about like foolish schoolgirls?"

"I'm pretending to be interested in the love of your life, so get on with it," Alfie instructed, lifting a tumbler of iced water to his parched lips.

"Her name's Mara," Jerome admitted against his better judgement, "Mara Jaffray. And she's perfect." And for once, the egoistical prat that Jerome Clarke truly was was gone and replaced with a different version of himself that only the thought of his fiancé can bring; a smiling, blushing mere half of a man reduced to the thoughts of sending her roses or reciting poetry to her or even just texting her to say that she was prominent in his thoughts or that he loved her.

"You look lost, Jerry," Alfie said, slurping his water revoltingly, causing his best friend to scowl in Alfie's direction. "Are you in lurveeeee?"

"Say that again and I'll kick you in the balls, Lewis."

Alfie wore a proud smirk on his face, having caught his best friend off guard, and opened his mouth to say more had it not been for the loud ringing of his cell phone.

"Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don't cha-"

Alfie fumbled to snatch up the vibrating cellular device, thumbs tapping the touchscreen with immense ferocity, cheeks blooming pink while Jerome diverged into noisy laughter.

"Goodness, Lewis, I didn't know so much changed in three months," Jerome cackled at Alfie's ringtone choice, enjoying this moment far more than he should have.

Alfie grumbled something about obnoxious gits before sticking the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

Jerome was still grinning as Alfie's face turned from embarrassed to concerned.

"I- yes, of course. I'll be right there." Alfie's voice sounded different, purer and more controlled for the person on the other end. "I know, I know, it's going to be okay. I'm right here. I'm on my way," Alfie was talking faster, forehead creased in frustration and worry, moving up out of his seat, harshly shoving the chair back under the table with his leg and lifting his coat. "Don't worry. Just call the police, I'm leaving right now. Love you."

Jerome sat back in his chair, bored, fingers drumming the polished tan wood to show Alfie that he wasn't to be ignored. "What's come up, Lewis?"

"Sorry, Jerome, looks like we're cutting lunch short," Alfie looked more sorry about leaving behind the food than Jerome, casting sad eyes at a circle of crispy onion rings. "Amber just called. She was crying." He looked distressed, jamming his coat on. "Apparently something happened to a friend of hers. I've got to go check up on her. You don't mind?"

"No, not at all," Jerome said simply, standing up. "Of course I don't mind that you're going to meet little Miss Priss." Something about Alfie's statement, however, captured his attention, and he attempted to let the next words leave his mouth in an uninterested manner. "The friend- what's her name?" He had a suspicion that Alfie only confirmed with his next words.

"Willow, I think? This really irritating girl who kinda clung to Amber like a stalker," Alfie said, not really paying attention to what Jerome was asking. "Didn't even know Amber liked her." He left money on the table to cover what he'd gotten to eat of his meal and looked up at Jerome. "Call me, alright?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Lewis- I'm engaged," Jerome quipped.

Alfie shot him a rogue grin, relieved that Jerome wasn't taking it to heart, leaving the restaurant in a flurry.

Hmph. Willow Jenkins was found a lot sooner than he expected. Nosy Amber Millington, Jerome had hoped that she wouldn't be found for another few days or so. Why, if she proved a problem, things would get complicated- and that was nothing Alfie would like if Jerome had to eliminate his best friend's girlfriend, which he would, if Amber as much as stuck her nose into places she shouldn't be.

Mara Jaffray turned the page of her book, the quiet rustling sound the only noise in the empty flat. Absentmindedly, she turned the diamond ring on her finger in circles, devouring the printed words with single glances. The thing about being an editor and finding a really good book was something she enjoyed. Finding the right reading material, it was like an entire new world or realm was opened just for her, sucking her into the intricate dynamics of the characters and the best realistic situations of the story.

Today, she relished the peace and quiet to finish the thrilling tale. Jerome had gone off to dine with a former acquaintance, and she was alone. Barefoot and relaxing in an oversized purple sweater, her favorite white shorts hidden in the excess cotton fabric, she was comfortable and reading to her heart's content.

She hadn't noticed the time flying by until the door opened, causing her shoulders to jump and her knees to flail, almost succeeding in knocking herself of the plushy red loveseat she was curled up on. She placed a hand over her fast-beating heart, breathing a quiet utter of relief to see that it was only Jerome before twisting her dark hair back into a knot at the back of her neck to go greet her fiancé.

"Jaffray," Jerome lowered his head to kiss her on the lips. "I missed you."

"You're back early," Mara said, surprised as she accepted the sign of affection. "I thought you were meeting an old friend for lunch."

"Something came up." Jerome shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the kitchen counter. "We can have lunch here, together. And don't say that you've eaten, Jaffray, I can see right through you. You've been glued to that book since before I left."

Mara blushed, looking at the manuscript she'd been given to look over, from where it laid on the seat. "I was going to eat, Jerome."

"Were you really?" Jerome sounded amused, looking through the cupboard and swinging open the small wooden door with enough force for it to fall off the hinges, something Mara sighed at.

"Yes, I was," Mara crossed her arms to show she meant business. "And stop opening the cupboards like that. It's damaging the wood."

"It's just wood," Jerome took out a box of dry pasta and set to filling a round pot with running water from the tap. "Care to co-chef?"

Mara rolled her eyes but smiled, stepping to help him chop fresh tomatoes and garlic that she fished from the refrigerator drawer.

"My friend's birthday is next week," Mara brought up the topic as casually as she could, slicing into a red tomato with the tip of the knife.

"Oh?" Jerome's tone of voice was hard to analyze.

"I was thinking you could come with me," Mara continued. "None of my friends have met you yet."

Jerome's back was rigid as he stirred. "I assumed we wouldn't mix our friends, Jaffray."

"I-I'm not saying that you have to go," Mara tried, "But we are engaged to be married and they do want to attend the wedding, so I'd like for them to get used to you."

Jerome hummed, leaving his station by the stove and leaning against his fiancé to rub her shoulders sensually. "If it means a lot to you, I'll go."

"You will?" Mara beamed, craning her neck to meet Jerome's gaze.

"I will," Jerome assured her, placing another kiss on her mouth. "When is it?"

"Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" Jerome faltered. "I thought it would be on a weekend."

"She wanted to have it on her actual birthday," Mara said cheerfully, leaning back into his skillful hands.

"I'm going to be working, is all," Jerome explained. Upon seeing her crestfallen face, he kept talking. "But I haven't taken a vacation yet. I'm sure I can get the day off."

"No, I know your work is important," Mara dismissed it and shrugged out of his grasp, going back to her chopping. "It's just a silly birthday party."

"We're going to that party together, Jaffray," Jerome went back to his pasta, deeming it ready for the draining process after tasting. "Whether you like it or not."

When she smiled and opened a can of tomato sauce, he smiled back.

The car radio hummed a sweet classical love song, the mellow tune drifting out of the worn speakers to fill the vehicle with soothing music. A quick hand turned the dial to an inserted CD and that peace of mind quickly shattered.

"Joy," Fabian Rutter sighed, putting the music down and cringing at the heavy guitar that blared. "I liked that song."

"I like this song," Joy Mercer childish replied, punching her best friend's arm though he was the one driving. "Now come on, sing along with me. Trying to consume, the drug in me is you-"

"I'm not singing to that," Fabian replied, with a face not unlike that of a child who'd sucked a sour lemon.

"Your loss," Joy bounced around in the passenger carseat, only restrained by the sharp seatbelt digging into her shoulder.

Fabian lowered the music again as he pulled into the driveway, mumbling under his breath about devilish spawn creating music.

"My birthday's next week," Joy unbuckled her seatbelt, unlocking the car doors and not waiting for Fabian. "I hope you don't mind that I invited everyone over to your place."

"It's practically your place too, the way you bring stuff over here all the time," Fabian said, smiling as he slammed his car door shut.

"Yeah, but that's because I hate my roommate. She always has her boyfriend over and being the third wheel blows," Joy shook her tousled brown hair out from under the bright yellow hat she wore, raking her fingers through the strands until it went back to a slightly more volume-ized version of her hair.

"I thought you said KT was nice," Fabian said, opening the white wooden door that lead to his small one-story home, stepping aside to let Joy enter first.

"She is, but that Mick bloke she always has around makes it hard for us to become friends," Joy stated. "Plus, she's so- American and it gets annoying sometimes."

"Well, you can have your birthday party here," Fabian changed the subject, switching on the lights leading to the front of the living room.

"Thanks, Fabes!" Joy slapped his back in a show of endearment and settled on his worn maroon couch, reclining against the fading pillows and tossing her head back. "I can't wait for all of us to get together. It's been a while since we've all left college, huh?"

"It's not everyday you turn twenty-four," Fabian took a seat next to his friend. "I wonder how everyone else is doing."

"Oh, you know Mara, or at least what she's said in e-mails. Engaged to a bloody perfect guy and a top editor," Joy said.

"Patricia, the criminal investigator," Fabian thought of another friend of theirs with a smile.

"We really only had two friends in college," Joy thought it over. "We are so sad, Fabes."

"Only takes two to party," Fabian offered.

"Yeah, you're right," Joy stared at the ceiling but then started at another thought. "Maybe Mara will bring her fiancé! That Jerome guy- and you can finally make a guy friend!"

"I have- guy friends," Fabian insisted, though it was weak. "Remember that group of fellows from college?"

"Fabian, the chess team were so not friends."

"...that's not who I meant," he grumbled.

"Anyway, just the four of us- maybe five- getting drunk in your house. That's the best way to do it."

"Drunk? In my house?" Fabian groaned at the thought. "Patricia drinks enough for three people, Joy, you know that."

Joy poked his side playfully. "Oh come on, it'll be fun. A chance for you to sway from your good and pure facade-"

"Facade?"

"-and admit that you like a nice shot every now and then."

"But I don't."

"Yes, you do."

It's only been three months, but Nina Martin was sure that her boss is the perfect man for her.

Everything down to his designer suits, his styled hair, his swagger and his voice, could make any woman go weak in the knees. Simply being around him wasn't good for the faint of heart.

Well, she liked him. Plain and simple. There was attraction, she was attracted to Jerome Clarke, and she wanted to get to know him past a work atmosphere. Why, they already spoke like friends, but she did want more than that. Which wass why this morning, she studied her outfit with intensity.

Dirty blond hair pulled into a chignon, black pencil skirt, white button up and matching black pumps. She unbuttoned en extra button on her blouse to give a more relaxed ambience but at the same time radiate confidence and work ethic, taking a few calming breaths to level her anxious stomach before laying her slim finger on the round black button that would decide her fate.

The intercom lying on the polished mahogany desk buzzed to life with the same vibrating sound as always and it made Jerome jump to a start, ripping his unwavering focus on business matters.

"Mr. Clarke, there is something we need to discuss."

He pressed the button to respond, a smile tugging on his lips. "I apologize, Ms. Secretary, but fuck off."

"Jerome, unlock your door and let me in."

Jerome still kept the grin but did as she requested, opening the door and sweeping in his secretary with a dramatic bow, spreading his arms wide.

"Theater fanatic," Nina nodded once and smiled at Jerome coquettishly, clicking into the room in her heels and making herself comfortable on the leather futon facing the large circular desk Jerome had obtained in his new job.

"I'm no theater fan, unless you want me to be," Jerome winked as he sat down.

"Can't say I am," Nina cocked her head and coyly batted her eyelashes.

"Then thank god I don't know anything about theater," Jerome smirked. "Now, what is it, Martin?"

"If you aren't too busy, I was wondering if you'd take a lunch break with me," Nina stated, leaning forward onto his desk, tilting her head to the side and looking into Jerome's eyes, smiling a wide grin that made her look younger than she was.

"No, Martin, I am busy," Jerome said instead, hands flittering about in a stack of papers he had on his desk. "You take a lunch break and have the intern fill in for you. I will dine later."

"No you won't," Nina said, "You'll keep working away here."

"Now, Nina, I say this as your boss. Go away."

"Real mature, Jerome," Nina scooted back. "When will you pretend to get along with me?"

"When you stop being a bloody pain," Jerome's smile made it seem anything less than friendly banter. "Go."

"I'm bringing you something from the Italian place down the street," Nina declared.

"You do that."

Nina left his office, rolling her eyes, and went back to her cubicle to get her purse, catching sight of the intern. "KT!"

KT was the swarthy, young, pretty intern, always smiling and always eager, and she jumped up to meet Nina's request as soon as Nina came close.

"Hey, Nina," she said joyfully, setting down some papers on the fax machine.

"I'm going to pick up some food for Jerome and I," Nina said. "Mind filling in?"

"Ooh, you and Jerome," KT gladly accepted, scooting to sit at Nina's desk and smoothing back escaped black curls from her ponytail before directing her full attention at the secretary, leaning closer to the young woman and lowering her voice to a girlish giggle. "Has he asked you out yet?"

"I have the feeling he doesn't want a relationship with me," Nina bit her lip and chewed on it thoughtfully, sliding her purse over her shoulder. "He's my boss."

"He's also shamelessly flirting with you," KT clucked her tongue. "Look, I say it's worth a shot."

"To what? Ask him out?" Nina smoothed down her skirt and didn't meet KT's eyes. "He could have a girlfriend, for all I know. We hardly even talk."

"So find out if he does," KT said. "What's the worst that could happen? If he's got a girlfriend, you bow out. That's it."

"He's different, you know?" Nina pondered the subject of Jerome with interest, lips pursing. "I don't know what it is about him."

"Well, he is cute. He's smart and he's interesting, and he's not weird like other guys," KT said, raising her eyebrows and flashing another grin. "I don't blame you for liking Jerome. I'm pretty sure every girl does."

"Yes, but I shouldn't," Nina sighed. "It's unprofessional. Words gets around."

"But I've heard so much about him from you!" KT cried. "He seems like an angel, the way you describe him. Not that I'd know, he doesn't give me the time of day. Still, if you think he's perfect, then go for it."

"He's just so charming and sweet, and just like you said, an angel, so why would Jerome Clarke go for me? He looks like the type of guy who's never made a mistake in his life."