A/N: I'm doing it. I'm posting this stupid crack fic and no one can stop me. Although reviews would be lovely; I can see you guys, feel free to say hello! I don't bite.

Anyway, here we go. Read at your own risk.

A man lies on his back in a room. It is not his normal room, nor his normal morning. He looks oddly familiar in some way, but you cannot tell how. He sits up, glancing around with a worried expression on his face, looking directly at you for a moment before moving on. His hands are tied tightly behind his back, and there is a bruise blossoming like a deadly flower over his right eye.

What is this man's name?

[Andrew Hussie]

You sense the seriousness of this for once. Good.

Your name, as previously mentioned, is Andrew Hussie. You're the mind behind the webcomic Homestuck, and had been taking a small vacation from work on said comic. It'd been one night out of your study, one night- and look what's happened! You assume you've been kidnapped, judging by how your hand are tied and your head hurts like someone threw a bowling ball directly at it.

You're in a room, the locked door behind you. The floor is covered with a dulled carpet and the walls have huge cracks lacing up and down them. There isn't much else besides yourself in here; just a table with a disc set on it, and a small collection of dying plants in the corner. There's a window on the wall...it looks unlocked. Maybe if you could use your hands, you could open it and escape this stuffy room.

But you need to get the rope off. That's the first objective in getting out of here, you think.

Besides that, what will you do?

-AH: Stand.

You manage to push against the door with your body and slide your way up onto your feet, nearly tripping over yourself and crashing back down. You try and pry the rope off of your hands using the doorknob; it fails. With stinging wrists, you try half heartedly to undo the knot with flailing fingers. After this produces nothing as well, you give up entirely.

-Inspect disc.

You walk over to the table, looking at the disc placed on it. It's yours; the final acts of Homestuck. You know you didn't bring this with you. You were taking a break from it! How could the disc have ended up here? Was it taken by the same person who kidnapped you? Why the hell would anyone kidnap you, anyway? You don't think you're kidnapping material...though it's a little flattering, in a weird and slightly terrible way. Maybe they're nice? No, that's crazy. Stop it. Kidnappers are not nice people. You sigh, and the sigh seems to echo in the room. Creepy- but interesting...!

Gah, you need to get out of here. You're quickly losing your cool and your common sense.

-Examine window.

You move over to the window, looking out into the evening. The sun is setting over a turbulent sea and wait- you are pretty sure your homestate is not next to the sea, not this close. How far did your kidnapper take you? You shiver. The building -house?- is perched on a cliff above the waves; you can hear the muffled crashes and splashes through the glass. Suddenly escaping through the window doesn't seem as great as you'd first hoped. It's a long drop to the water below, and you're pretty sure it's not safe- it'd basically be the equivalent of jumping out a two story building face first onto concrete.

Yeeeeeah, not safe. You lick your lips worriedly, tasting salt and blood. How in the world are you going to get out of this mess?

The door behind you unlocks and opens with a long, high pitched creak, someone -or something- stepping into the room. The door shuts behind them and you feel your blood turn to ice. Now you're really fucked.

-Open the window?!

No hands, remember? Oh god, you're going to die, aren't you? The thought sears itself into the front of your mind. You are trapped and what you are certain is your kidnapper is standing behind you, probably here to finish you off. With wide eyes and a panicking heart, you slowly turn to face them.

It's a woman, cloaked in deep velvet purple. She holds a small silver 9mm pistol in her left hand, and in her right a pair of scissors. She smiles at you, and your blood deep freezes. It's the smile of a predator about to catch their helpless prey. The woman shakes her head at you. "It's nothing personal," she says. You stare at her, throat dry. "W-what?"

"All this. It isn't personal." She steps towards you. "I'm simply taking care of the few beings that would interrupt my plans. Although I should thank you; I've gained quite a good follower from your...what was it, Alternia? Yes, that's it." The woman shrugs. "So thanks for that." You swallow nervously as she steps closer. "I don't understand what you're talking about," you say, voice trembling. She gives you a mournful look, frowning. "But of course. And I'm dreadfully sorry about that. Still, it will be better you go without any idea of why."

What the hell is this lady talking about?! A follower from Alternia- that doesn't make any sense. Alternia's a fictional place! How could she have a follower from there? She's crazy, you decide, and this decision just makes you even more afraid. She grins wider at you. "However...I have decided to play a little game with you. Come here and let me cut off that rope." You stare at her, blinking rapidly. Oh, hell no. You are not failing for that! Not in a mill-

"It's either my game or this bullet through your skull without a chance of living."

Okay, fine, fine! You'll let her do it.

-Approach. But carefully! Don't go dying just yet.

Shut up. You're pretty sure you're going to die whether you like it or not, you think. She's just messing with you. You take a deep shaking breath and then walk over to her, turning around to expose your tied up wrists. Her breath brushes your neck. "Good little human," she hisses as she roughly cuts the rope off. You feel one of the blades run across your wrist and try not to move. The metal is cold and stings, but you feel no blood. She pushes you away and you ungracefully trip and crash into the wall. The woman laughs. "Are you ready for the game?"

You turn again to face her, window to your back. "Yes," you say, wanting to take it back the moment it leaves your lips. The woman gives you a actual smile- which is even more terrifying then her fake ones. "I'm going to count to ten," she says, "and if you have not jumped out that window by the time I reach zero, your brains are going to be splattered across these walls." She folds her hands behind her back. "I'll start once you move."

Your heart begins to pound. Oh, we're playing this kind of game. Fine! Hahaha...oh god. You whimper through your teeth and glance around the room wildly. There has got to be a weapon of some sort here.

But there's nothing here. Just the table -which you cannot lift- and the disc. Hold on. Your eyes widen. Maybe you could use the disc to stab her in the neck? No, she'd kill you by the time you reached her. Perhaps it's just best to take it and jump. Your gaze flicks to the woman; she meets it and you shudder. "What's your name, anyway?" you blurt out. She does not answer; she just clicks her tongue disapprovingly at you.

Alright. You've stalled long enough. Time to grab the disc and get out of here.

-Begin the game.

You step towards the desk and almost in time with your footstep, the woman begins to count.

"Ten."

You rush over, snatching up the disc and shoving it into one of your pant pockets. You don't glance back at the woman as "nine" passes over her lips. You run back to the window and pull at it. It seems stuck. "Eight." You pull harder, whispering panicked prayers under your breath. This has to have been planned, you think. Why else would a perfectly good window get stuck? A couple of logical reasons begin to pop into your head in order to combat this notion, but you shoo them away. A "seven" reaches your ears and you pull even harder. With a reliving click, the window slides up and open. You clamber out the best you can and balance perilously on the small window still.

"Six."

You look down. It really is a long drop, and you still aren't too sure if you'll survive it. It's now you spare a moment to glance back into the room; the woman stares with cold eyes at you, tapping her foot. "Five," she says flatly, and you return your attention to the sea below. Like it or not, you have to jump.

You take a deep breath.

-Jump!

You leap out of the still and begin to plummet as the woman calls out "four". Wind whips around you, and taste of salt is overpowering. Somehow you've managed to end up following back first, which is a little worrisome- you don't want to break your spine. You try and calm yourself as the waves get louder and louder, but your breathing is nonexistent in the din while the heartbeat in your ears does not provide any comfort.

You quit trying to act cool and calm as a whimper-y scream slips from your throat. You're scared and you honestly do not want to die. It's funny, really; you've never thought about how you would die or what it would be like. And now you'll probably never get to think about those questions, not if the impact with the water kills you. You can feel tears pricking your eyes, but you refuse to give into them, to your kidnapper. You swallow and blink them away. A scream is all they're getting!

Nothing more.

The pain and darkness are so sudden and not where they're supposed to be when they finally come.

They are quick and precise: straight though your chest amidst a flapping of wings. You hardly have time to think about how you haven't even hit the water before the darkness and sea rushes over you and drags you down. All you can see is red and darkening blue and then nothing. You're trying to breathe and getting water -so much water- and coughing does nothing. It just brings more water, pain and darkness. There's a tightening in your lungs and chest, and you flail weakly as you let out your last bubble of oxygen.

Everything's fading so fast once you start to drown. The redness disappears and takes your vision with it, leaving you floating in darkness with pain as your terrible companion. You try to imagine a happier place, and for some odd reason can only bring up the home page of MSPA. You don't care; you cling to the idea that you're just falling asleep after you've posted the rest of the comic. A small smile crosses you face as you relax. It's fine, the website whispers, it's posted. They'll see it. "Are you sure...?" you think slowly. I promise, it replies. Everything's okay, let go. You can go. You'll be fine, trust me. It begins to hum a song you think you should recall, but for some reason can't. It's probably not important anyway. You do want to ask something, though- something that actually matters. But how can you ask anything when you have begun to forget your own name?

A second voice whispers in your head along the first one's soft humming: Let go. Listen to your site, let go. Everything is fine. You are asleep.

The image and voices disappear as you finally let yourself crash into the deepest darkness you have ever known.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this mess. I'll leave you guys with a little fun fact- when I first started this story, the main antagonist (serial killer lady here) had no name besides the acronym MA, which I changed to Ma. This, however, is no longer her name. So yeah, little tidbit for you.

Next chapter soon.

EDIT: Had to get creative in making the commands stand out. Don't know why it wouldnt allow the arrows...