Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.
The wind rushed around my head as I dropped. It was cold outside, and my teeth were chattering incessantly. The drop felt like it lasted for and eternity. She wouldn't kill me this early in the game, I knew that, so why was I dropping into a courtyard? Then...fluff. Everywhere, all around me. It was warm, but not hot.
"Is this death?" I mutter into the fuzz.
A recording answered me. "Welcome to the Suffocation Chamber. Nice name, isn't it?" She chuckled. "Any who, here's the story. There's a button somewhere in this room. When this button is pressed, you will be released. Carlton is doing the same challenge in the next room over. If you haven't noticed, there is no air in here. It's completely full of wool. Don't forget, I'm right on your tail. Hurry up, Psychic."
I could feel my lungs reaching for nonexistent air. I swam through the sea of fuzz and groped for something. Anything. No air. Must breathe. Help me.
O00oo00oo00O
I think straight can't anymore even. I no scream sound out come. Hands around feel walls. Found! Found! I button slap. Door open, out walk. I gasp for air in this strange territory. My John Bender costume is drenched in sweat from the wool. When I open my eyes, I am in a traditional haunted house. Then I cry out. Sitting on a box to my right is Detective Carlytown Lassie-face. He is staring around mindlessly. When he sees me he jumps on me and hugs me fiercely.
"Damn it, Spencer. I thought you were dead." He growled.
"Me too." I muttered. "Did you get a recording yet?"
He shook his head. "Nope."
A voice crackled into being, but this time it wasn't electronic. "Shawnie, Lassie, where are you?" A singsong female voice called from a stairwell a few feet away.
Our eyes locked for an instant before we took off. We sprinted through the house while Carlton murmured bunch of codes into the radio.
"O'Hara, send SWAT in. She's right behind us, so find her using the tracking device on me...what the hell do you mean, you're not picking me up?! O'Hara! O'Hara? She's gone." He said. "The signal's dead and so is my GPS. Keep running."
"This...is...one...damn big...house." I panted. And it was. We ran down hall after hall, room after room, but no end came. I knew I was running out steam, but nothing matters when a crazy-lady psycho is chasing you. I scanned my mind. How could I distract her? Then, I got it. Use someone she could relate to. More specifically, the original psycho. I grabbed Carlton and hid in an alcove with him.
"Norman!" I screeched in my best Norman Bates impression. "Don't you give that girl my food! Norman!"
A high, feminine voice answered. "Who's there? Shawnie, Lassie, where did you go? Come out and play, boys. Come on. Don't be shy. Don't make me come and find you. You know what that means, don't you? I get to do whatever I want with my darling gaybies. Haha. Hahahahaha!" she laughed maniacally.
I whispered into Lassie's ear. "Okay, give me one of your guns. Just do it." He obeyed. "Now the handcuffs." He reluctantly handed them over. "On 7, you run out and distract her. I'll sneak up behind and cuff her. Once we have her we'll take it from there."
"Why 7?"
"I like even numbers."
"It's not—never mind. Let's just go." He ran out in front of her.
"Carly!" She shrieked. "You startled me. Where's Spencer?"
Then, to my astonishment, Carlton Lassiter began to do the can-can. "Camp town racers sing this song, doo da, doo da..."
I crept up behind her. She was a brunette, about 5'7, and approx. 25. She was wearing a wedding gown. In a mirror on the other side of her, I could see through the bodice of the dress which revealed liposuction and a boob job. My guess is an ex-prostitute. The bitch was certifiable. I crept closer and closer and snapped the cuffs on. "You're under arrest, Sandbags!"
She sighed contentedly. "This is nice." She flipped over so I was straddling her. "Very nice."
I sprang off her, still gripping the cuffs. "Let's go."
