Hey everybody! Paradigm of Writing here with a new chapter of Pluto Vacation, #7: Choose Who Lives Tonight. I am super stoked tonight to get this chapter up and ready as my week will be crazy with how many updates of stories I'm pushing forward- I have like an update every single day before this month ends. Last time we had some of the old thrown in with the new of the plotline where it isn't cliché, as now only one person can presumably... presumably be the serial killer going after all the friends, but it is time I disprove your minds again when it truthfully will not work. You guys will perhaps see this from a mile away, but then again, maybe not. Enjoy!

11:40 PM, Husen Family Guest Lodge, Denver, Colorado, December 19th, 2015

"Oh fuck! Marth!" Sheik screamed, racing out the front door of the guest lodge into the outside, where pallid bands of snow and hailing blocks of ice rained from above. Her heart pounded at a thousand miles an hour, blood roaring in her eyes, screams of her boyfriend echoing behind in a beating heart. What the fuck just happened? She put a hand to her forehead, wiping away the blood that had spilled down when the broken glass cut her face.

She stood in the snow, feet bare, wearing nothing more than a coat and her jeans. Shards of glass lay in the snow, chipped in various sizes. A few were tainted a dark crimson, causing Sheik's skin to shudder twenty times over. There was only person who's blood that could be. Marth. Speaking of the bluenette, there was not a trace of him anywhere, except for the yells of terror out in the distance that could only belong to one person, one she'd hate to run into and see dead. Panicking thoughts riddled through her brain, one counter arguing the other.

Get help. No, call 911. Wait, that is to get help! Go the lodge! Go after him! FUCK!

Sheik swallowed her fear, racing back into the lodge. Help would not come for her and him now, it was up to her. All lodges in the winter had to have some form of defense against bears, moose, or people for that very matter if something barged in during the night. She searched under the couch for it, smells of semen making her want to gag. In the act, the smell is luxurious. Outside? Be prepared to have a hazard suit and gas mask.

Her eyes lit up when she formed a fist over the sleek metal grip of a sniper rifle. She lugged it out of the placeholder under the couch, seizing a moment to notice the grandeur of the firearm. No one better mess with her now. Sheik set her ruby eyes at the door, knowing that whatever grabbed Marth was still out there. "Let's go and get my boyfriend. Fuck, I cannot believe I'm doing this..." she hissed, ignoring the pain from her forehead. Throwing the gun around her shoulder, out she ran into the night.

At least the moon in the sky was bright. Only good thing about the night, to be perfectly honest.

Sheik ran down the icy path from the cabin, ever so often hearing the bitter screams and cries from Marth in the distance. She gritted her teeth, facing the cold even that much harder. Tonight, she'd prevail over who decided to fuck with her feelings and happiness. The cold snatched her breath a few steps at a time, making her grasp her throat, squeezing the skin. Sheik went from the throat to the face, dabbing away the tears, all the sorrow and regret she felt towards something she couldn't even control. Helpless anger propelled her through the elements. Fear also became present in her stomach, strengthening and curdling over like sour milk.

What had grabbed him? Who had grabbed him was the better question. Black, gloved hands had ripped her boyfriend from the cabin. Someone, not a thing. No animal had five fingers that wore gloves and grunted the way whomever this person was did. Nothing could. Humans were animals, but the gist stayed the same. All she could replay in her head was the plaguing distress Marth emitted in the moment life flashed between his eyes. She could only imagine what he had to be feeling, scared out of his wits, unable to fight back.

She stopped, coming to a fork in the road. One path branched off towards the cabin, over a makeshift bridge above a gushing and roaring river. The other directed itself further into the frosted wonderland of the forest atop the mountain, where there could be visible splotches of blood. Sheik rolled her eyes. "Might as well give me a fucking sign or something..." she thought rather angrily, sprinting in that direction. Unless the attacker made a diversion, there would be no way to block the blood trail coming from Marth's body.

Sheik kept the feeling from Marth the entire evening, especially during the sex, but now it rose in her throat and threatened to make bile appear. She felt watched the entire night, and it wasn't Robin's eyes she was talking about. Something in the trees, hidden to her vision that radiated malice and evil. That person had to have been watching them the whole night, knowing what lovely and easy prey they could become. That person took Marth. Took the only one she truly cared about. The path stopped at a river, metal barrels put in the water, lodged in the dirt to keep them stationary.

"It's like hopscotch... just think that." she whispered to herself, leaping from one metal barrel to the other, a foot not daring to dip into the water save she want to meet an early death at the bottom of a waterfall or hypothermia due to the intensive exercise.

"SHEIK! Help me!" a scream, which had to come from Marth rippled through the sky, causing the blonde to freeze in her tracks. The path led to her a cliff edge, where an intense slope went down to the base, a good ten foot drop. There also lied a rocky ledge which she could shimmy down to a smaller incline, although an incline nonetheless.

She looked frantically around at where the distress call could have come from. But she was so high up... the forest was too dense. Fuck. Fuck! How could she see him? The realization smacked her in the face so hard, she almost willed to face palm from sheer stupidity. She had a gun! A sniper rifle, which thank all the merciful gods in heaven above had a scope.

"Thank you Red, thank you for the few lessons when you weren't an asshole." she thanked her lucky stars, putting the butt of the gun on her shoulder, looking through the scope. In a time when the group still had been held together by the Husen twins, Red Kyne graced his presence with Sheik Boeing in an attempt to ask her out on a date by taking her to a shooting range. The guy didn't get anywhere romantically, but for gun advice, the boy vaulted to the top spot. She'd been good at it, too. People thought she had a PhD in fashion, marksman triumphed that section tenfold.

Sheik gripped the shaft of the rifle uncomfortably. It'd been a few years since she last held something so heavy besides a boy's body in her own arms, but the feeling remained all the same. Comfort. As she looked into the scope, she tried imagining the attacker resembled Zelda Friedrich. So she could rip a bullet through the fucking bitch's face, who deserved all the evil she got. Skank. Sheik missed the security of it.

"Something you give up when people decided to care when you held parties in garages," she cursed to herself. "Fuck my shortsightedness."

But then again, and she could testify in her will this, who could claim she'd use these skills to chase her kidnapped boyfriend through a snowy forest in December in a state she knew nothing about? Example none! Her heart slammed into her throat when her scope landed on gold. Marth Lowell lied out in the distance, crawling through the snow. Blood, ice, and grime coated his face, terror in his sweet navy eyes. Hair was torn to shreds, clothes ripped away and he crawled in only jeans, bare chested. He had to be freezing, almost close to dead.

Sheik had only brief moments to think about where the fuck his shirt went before something out of sight grabbed her boyfriend, dragging him through the snow at unimaginable speeds, the frightened boy screaming the whole way.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it all to hell!" she growled, throwing the gun back over her shoulder, preparing to jump down below. Take the chase on foot once again. She needed the cardio. A few pounds at the waist did need to disappear. Nothing better than chasing after a supposed killer who grabbed a loved one you cared so desperately about.

Who in the fuck could do something so cold? Sheik shook, brain filling with thoughts of how he was already dead, he'd be mad at her for not getting rescued soon enough... anything possible in such an event like this. "No," she decided firmly, "I can do this. Keep thinking it Sheik, keep thinking it. It'll come true. Believe in the power of whatever the fuck you want to believe in!" At this moment, Sheik Boeing didn't give a shit if she sounded like a madman to anyone else.

She hit the ground, from the jump above. Snow and ice filled her jacket, making the coldness of the cabin seem like a warm memory. Pallid blankets of ice crunched underneath her feet, scooping the gun up from the ground when she let it go to make the fall more bearable. Grabbing the rifle in one quick swipe, without even taking a second to pause, Sheik resumed her frantic race.

Her hands moved over a coarse bump, meaning the gun had been dented, but seemed to be still functional. Never like the present to have the most pertinent technology fail on you. She raced forward to skid back to another stop as a cliff, even larger than the first made her tracks come to a screeching halt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shitting fuck!" Sheik yelled as the gun flew from her grasp by the sudden stop. Her balance lost momentarily, and more than just her life flashed between her eyes as she fell down. Thinking fast, she reached out desperately, a sigh of relief ripping through her as her hand managed to snag a tree limb.

She grunted as she latched onto the ice-cold wood, the momentum sending darts of agony to stab her in the back. Sheik let out a yelp, hands so feverishly wanting to relax the pain rippling in her skin, but letting go meant no saving Marth Lowell from a certain demise at the hands of this gloved fucker. "Damn it! What the fuck?" she hissed.

Then there was another scream. Marth. One so full of pain and agony and suffering, one that leeched the most empathy from her heart howling into the star studded night. Sheik's limbs began moving before she could comprehend it. Splat. She dropped from the tree, not minding the burning fire screaming at her pores to fucking stop, she needed to think logically about this. The sound had been so gut wrenchingly dripped with fear, her ass needed to make a move on. Run like the fucking blue hedgehog she used to love as a kid. Move it!

Her little excursion down the cliff proved to be so stupid, as the only way up was to climb up the small ledge and hoist higher into the sky, blizzards howling, the moon scowling from above. She reached the top of the rocky wall, taking a second to catch a breather. The ledge she stood at gave way, causing Sheik to scream before swearing at least in five languages like a banshee. Her body crashed into a wooden platform, musky smells of decay and old age festering in her nostrils.

Sheik got to her feet, wondering what the fuck she had landed on. "Holy... shit." she let out, taking a second to assess the damage. Nothing seemed broken, no vicarious spots of red dotting her skin anywhere. A okay! Marth? Not so much. She had landed on the roof of some building, although she couldn't really determine what it exactly was. She remembered a long time ago that Kuro mentioned something of a few mines sprung underneath the Earth back in the 40's and 50's, but they were said to be empty? Could this perhaps be...?

Another drop off, a bitten tongue, more swearing, and Sheik kept her steady pace. "Fuck this mountain. Fuck this mountain. Just, fucking hell. I hate this godforsaken place!" she roared at the sky. She wished she had taken gloves with her on the plane, it would have been a good time to have that with her at this point of her trek, then again, she had no idea.

After leaping down a third platform, Sheik took a second to see that she was running into the bottom floor of the remains of some wooden structure, dilapidated beyond belief. A high pitched cry cut off the moment of relaxation she wanted to experience, this time Marth screaming in such loud and heartbreaking fear, she ran in the direction of the scream.

Sheik rounded the corner to see a flash of cerulean hair, eyes she longed to stare into one more time, arms that were scratched up. Marth. She reached for him, leaping with the thrusting power of a gazelle through the legs to have a wooden barn door slam shut, cutting off their reach. The brightening in his eyes when he realized who came after him, to have fear shatter that illusion with the shut door.

"Oh god. Oh god, oh my fucking god. Marth!" Sheik screamed, hands moving to the padlock. Locked, somehow from the other side. That door would not open even if she had the help of the fucking Hulk or something by her side. Turning to her side, she winced, hoping to dull the pain, before bashing in the wooden block that like such an asshole prevented further progress.

The door was flimsy, Sheik barging in quickly and tirelessly to an empty room. No Marth. No killer. Just the howling of icy wind and farm equipment. Fuck! Panic flowed into her stomach. Had she been seeing things? Bile rose in her throat, vomit threatening to appear. A full on panic attack could be felt creeping on her, Sheik knew from years of personal experience. She made a firm frown with her lips. Now was not the time to quit. Not today.

Then she heard Marth's screams - distant, faint, nearly gone due to the hoarseness of the throat, but still there - and Sheik darted for the stairs she saw lining the far right wall of the barn. She took three at a time because fuck the rules, but Marth's cry for help kept a lasting, but strange hope, that all she cared about in that faint sound still existed, had blood still beating.

He's alive. He's alive. Marth is alive!

The words were a desperate mantra in her head as she darted into one of the openings that led further into this dilapidated building, chasing his screams, which got louder every ten steps, doubling in volume and desperation at twenty steps.

"Ah! Sheik, help me!" Marth screamed.

"I'm coming!" she called. He sounded so close, so fucking close, she could almost taste him again. She didn't know if it was because of the close proximity why she could hear him so near, or that Sheik did her job and got close to him and saved him, but she didn't give a fuck at the end of the day. She'd have her man back. She would find him, send a bullet into the bastard's brain who took him, and they'd be alright. They'd never come back to the fucking mountain again, finding other ways to interact with the group of friends who sent them that way. A whole week of cuddling and kissing, minus the sex. That's all she'd do. Marth could settle like he used to.

The corridor opened up into a wide room, drowned out in greyscale. The sides were littered with more farming materials, the stinking smell of manure and the rough feel of hay prickling her feet. Rusted things, mechanical things, all these fucking weird ass gizmos and gadgets of various size staring at her so coldly in the background. In the center of the corridor was an elevator shaft, with a grater stopped at the same level, the elevator growing into a tower which well permeated pass the roof of the wooden building.

"What the fuck? Literally..." Sheik whispered. Then she caught sight of the prone figure lying on the grater. Her heart stopped. "Marth, Marth! Fuck! Screaming holy fuck! Oh god no, god no... please!" she ran towards him, crouching low, but unsure of whether or not she should touch him.

Marth Lowell looked beautiful before, so wonderful and delicate that everyone would be jealous of him. Now, that façade vanished. He was pale, so pale and covered in cardinal slashes and splatters up his arms, down his back, painting his neck. He wasn't moving. She saw deep gashes in his chest, one at the crook of his nose, part of his cerulean wave missing. Ugly amaranthine and midnight colored bruises ringed his neck. Some fucker choked him.

"Please be alright, please," she squeezed her eyes shut, tears threatening to spill, heart threatening to bleed. A faint groan from her battered boyfriend cut her off, all the pain and fear evaporating with the blink of an eye, the snapping of fingers. The relief came so fast, she almost choked. "Marth... oh my god, Marth!" Her hands fluttered anxiously above him, scared that if she made contact, her hands would cause him even more pain.

"Sheik..." Marth whispered softly, voice riddled with pain. His voice was so broken and weak, so soft. She'd never heard him sound anything like this before, usually cocky and strapping, willing and strong. Every breath seemed to cause him agony, every missed second spreading terror. "Help me."

"I will. I will." Sheik said, knuckling away the tears from her eyes. Marth needed her to be calm. Fuck, after all she just went through, how could calm even exist?

She reached out - maybe she could lift him off the grater, as dragging seemed out of the question given the asshole had done the very same thing to him through the snow outside. Not the best option, in the specter that there weren't that many. If she managed to get a good grip, perhaps... but what if he had a neck or back injury, as seen? Would that inhibit any progress? Would it injure him further? She didn't want to even think of that option. God, Sheik didn't want to kill him, trying to save his life.

Then there was a sound. A godawful sound, grinding crunch, like two immense slabs of metal colliding together.

A shower of sparks sprayed her in the face, and back Sheik flew, landing on her butt, swearing and patting frantically at the embers that landed on her coat.

The grate Marth was lying on gave a long, torturous scream, and dropped.

"NO!" The yell tore at her already aching throat. Sheik lunged forward, hands outstretched, a panicked scream crackling in her throat as Marth vanished from view. Just beyond her fingers, into the blanket of darkness below.

She staggered back, dodging pieces of metal bits raining from above. Fuck! After all she just did, down he went again!

She raced back to the now open hole of the elevator, trying to see if there was anything, anything to see and spare. "Marth!" she screamed down into the hole. She couldn't breath. Sheik couldn't breath. And Marth was dead. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Marth died in front of her very damn eyes!

Chitter. Chitter.

The hair on the back of Sheik's neck stood on end as the air changed, transforming into a more menacing tint, one that she'd reminisce about forever. She swung the gun up in a move that became as rapid and familiar as breathing, eyes peering into the scope. There, at the top of the shaft, was a figure. A face, eying down at her. Its face was hidden, cast into shadow by the light that haloed its head, but she knew, whatever or whomever it was, that thing watched her every move. Sheik could barely make out a smile, one that had full well intent of behind what the grin resembled.

All at once, Sheik felt directly unsafe. In the presence of this brutal predator.

She also knew that, with a furious and distant clarity, had to be the fucking bastard who killed Marth, who took her boyfriend away from her at the cabin and just dropped him below in who knows where the fuck where, killing him. Her teeth grounded, and Sheik pulled the trigger. The gun rocketed off like a cannon, however she was hardly fazed by the recoil, looking away from the scope and back at the shaft.

The figure vanished, darting back the way she came from above, known by the pounding footsteps above her head, where the second floor lay.

"Oh no you fucking don't!" Sheik snarled, swinging the gun around her shoulder, racing back the way she came.

Her foot landed back on the wood, and something gave way. She let out a cry, hearing the splintering of wood. This building was too old, hadn't been used in ages so heavy weight running on it did not bode well for her or anyone who cared to listen. Shit. Sheik could only keep running, before she tripped on a coiled wire left in her running wake from before.

"Not now!" she screeched.

Soft footsteps padded in front of her, and she looked up. Sheik glared directly in the face of Marth's killer, creeping realization vaulting forward in her brain. Her eyes widened, ruby eyes softening. "You! Fuck you, bastard! I'll murder you, you stinking piece of shit!"

The last thing she saw before the floor gave way and Sheik tumbled down below into wherever she was going, perhaps in the same place as Marth's dead body, was the eyes of the killer, a grin so fucking crazy you'd think the Joker would be outclassed.

12:45 AM, Husen Family Resort (Location Unknown), Denver, Colorado, December 20th, 2015

The rattling of chains caused Luigi Russo to unleash a scream, the boy vaulting forward, as his eyes flew open, the sudden sound awakening him from a deep sleep. He let the yell rip from his lips, echoing loudly around him, vibrations dulling inside his head. Speaking of said body limb, the boy howled in agony, hands immediately fleeting to the back of his skull, lacerations and bumps meeting his sensual touch. Something rough stuck abruptly out, and he could smell the fresh scent of blood. Last he remembered, some asshole hit from behind with something hard enough to knock him unconscious.

"I don't even want to know what it'll look like in the morning..." Luigi mumbled, shakily getting to his feet.

First thing to note was that the emerald clad boy no longer stood in the kitchen of the Husen main lodge. Somewhere else he stood, dark and musty air choking his throat. He couldn't have just walked to his unknown location, someone carried or perhaps dragged him out to the hell knows where. That enough could be evident from the cold, slogging damp feeling he felt when touching his clothes, although there wasn't a speck of white anywhere. What exactly had happened?

It came back in segments, bits and pieces of a fragmented puzzle. The threat, the immense search for Kuro in the lodge where all time stopped... then there was shouting, Peach being taken. The hit. The choke hold, the silver bullet. Lucas had been there too... Luigi's eyes widened in realization. He, and all of his friends were in danger. Where was he?

Luigi didn't need to think again, as someone practically read his mind. Low light flooded the room, and it turned out there was little to fear. Roughly half a mile from the main lodge, the Husen's built a guest cabin similar to the one where Kuro had sent Marth and Sheik, except this one also was attached to a barn that held farming equipment and other mechanical items used for god knows what. Before he took a single step, a soft cry for help interrupted his actions.

"Help! Please help us!" cried the voice.

He knew that distressed call from anywhere. "Peach!" Luigi screamed.

There was a slight paused, then with added hope, a stronger, but still weak response. "L- Luigi? Are you there?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'm here! Where are you?"

"I don't know. He- he tied me up. That masked man. He's- he's got-" the poor girl couldn't get it out.

Luigi, though he still couldn't see or truthfully hear for shit, needed to know. "Peach, who is he? And what do you mean by he's got? Does he have someone we know? Who are you referring to? Peach, I need to know-"

A screaming burst of static broke through the room, and the room filled with even more light. Luigi raced up the now seen window, and the door on his far right which peered into a larger room on the other side. After the unwelcoming addition of noise, a different voice, one of cold malice which made his skin crawl, added to the unsettling atmosphere. "Good evening."

Through the window, Luigi could see three bodies. One was Peach, which he knew clearly from her vibrant blonde hair, her electric pink coat and sweater clinging to her body. Next to her, further back, but only so they couldn't see other, lay Kuro. The boy in green wanted to vomit from the sight. The only remaining sibling of the Husen trio looked far from well, black hair in shambles, blood caking his face, cuts lining his arms. The only one who seemed somewhat decent was the third person in the room.

"Lucas?" Luigi yelled at the top of his lungs, disbelief pouring through his voice.

Before any of the three friends in distress could respond back, the maniacal, chill inducing stranger spoke again. "As I've already said, good evening. None of you know me, save for truly one of you, the blonde boy tied to the lovely stake where a chainsaw blade could rip him in half. I am a person by many names, but I prefer in the end to go by Freak."

Luigi's blood run cold. "Who the fuck-"

"Simply enough to put, as there's no issue with me telling you guys, I'm a serial killer," Freak said. "You can let the shock of how stupid I am sink in, so I can recover enough to tell you that none of you here in this building at the very exact time will live through to see dawn break over the clouds. You knowing my little secret will not have any effect on me."

Kuro, who apparently had been asleep as the beginning proceedings took place, awoke. The boy gasped in pain, eyes flittering to his waist where gauze tape matted down around the skin, splotched a dark crimson. The boy was also standing straight up, hands and feet locked by shackles on a wooden board. "What- what is this? Let me out of here!"

"Tonight is a simple returning to what I started, by eliminating the Husen sibling trio from my very presence. Money goes a long way in this world."

"Please, get us out of here!" Lucas and Peach screamed in unison, over the crackling of the serial killer above.

Freak clucked his tongue. "Right now, I want to test a simple experiment, to choose loyalty between people you can easily pick, or ones that will be harder to decide. For that, I need the cooperation of our three test subjects, Lucas Samuels, Peach Tydal, and Kuro Husen."

"Fuck you!" Kuro howled.

"Wish that could happen."

Lucas paled. "What- what are you planning to do?"

Luigi couldn't believe his eyes, nor his ears. This had to be a dream. Any second now he'd wake up from this god awful nightmare. He pinched himself. Nothing happened. Pinch harder, same result. He was not going to turn into the definition of insanity. Whatever happened, happened, and there would be nothing to fix it. He balled his fists, a smug glare pointing itself towards the ceiling. "Do your worst."

Although none of the four friends locked away in the room could see Freak, they could sense the smile, enough to send shudders and chills down all their spines. "Gladly, my dear Luigi Russo. In front of you is a simple key pad, with the numbers one, two, and three. Each of your friends has a specific code sequence you have to punch in, and whichever number you compute, that friend dies."

"What?" Kuro yelled.

"You're bullshitting us!" Lucas harped, struggling against his restraints.

"No... please no!" Peach began to cry.

Luigi backed up from the keypad, his head swimming, heart beating, blood roaring with the ferocity of a lion. Shit. Shit. SHIT FUCK! "No... I need to think straight... you're-"

"I'm not bullshitting any of you, I'm deadly serious. Lucina and Midna Husen thought the same thing before my bare hands ripped them apart, one fired a bullet, the other drove a knife. And, especially for you, big brother, with dark hair and amber eyes, they were luxurious to rape. All the blood, why it made showers in the sky, euphoria drove me over into orgasms men could only dare to have. So thank you, sir, for having good sisters. If all they could ever accomplish, least it was that. Satisfaction." Freak intoned.

Kuro's fearful eyes evolved into a burning rage, at the knowledge that his own sisters had been killed by this fucker, even so much to have their dead fucking bodies used for entertainment. "You sick fuck! I'll rip you to pieces!"

"Just like your sisters... not good to repeat the past, Mr. Husen," Freak sang mockingly. The voice directed itself at Luigi, this was direct by the inflection of the voice. "The code for Peach Tydal is the simple 1-2-3. If you decide to end her life, bullets from my pistol will fire in three direct places. The head, the heart, and the stomach. Depending on which key you press the hardest, that's where the bullet will go through. More likely fatal despite that."

"Luigi! Think about this for a moment," Peach shrieked. "You- you can't let me die!"

Freak steamrolled on. "The combination of 3-2-1 causes Kuro Husen to meet an awful fate at falling on my sector of knives and spikes down below in the column where he stands above. The restraints unlatch, and down he'll drop, lucky to break his neck before the stabbing blades pierce everywhere on his body."

"I dare you to try killing me! You won't!" Kuro smugly yelled at the ceiling where he thought the voice came from.

"And, our last combination is for Mr. Samuels, the most unfortunate of three. He is a wild code. The starting number is 2, but the next two numbers I'll leave up to you. It is either 2-3-1 or 2-1-3. One combination will kill Mr. Samuels, by having this rotating saw chop the fellow in half. The other combination you didn't use, of 2-3-1 or 2-1-3 will kill one of the three at random, and if you decide to sit there and not do anything, I'll let all of them die. Choice is yours. The other sequence, of you think of outsmarting me, they won't work, and it'll force you to punch another one in." Freak explained.

As if the killer had snapped his fingers, the saw began to whirl, Kuro's restraints became looser, and the evident cock of a gun from Luigi's left. The boy began to sweat, various screams and cries for help flooding his ears.

"Save me, please!" Lucas yelled.

"Don't kill me, please don't kill me..." Peach cried out.

"Dude, we've been through so much! I don't want to go out like this..." Kuro moaned.

Luigi backed up again from the console. "Oh shit... oh shit. Give me a minute! I can't think straight..."

"You don't have a minute to think about it! Time is ticking! Do you not care about your friends?" Freak taunted from the ceiling.

In a flash, Luigi pressed 2-1-3, hoping it would be the random one. He wanted to look away, but there was a strange sense of morbid curiosity behind his madness, he couldn't tear away, he wouldn't look the other direction. A loud cling sound echoed through the room. "There! I punched in a code! Happy now?" he screamed.

Freak made a satisfying sigh. "You are so damn evil, you know. Luigi punched in the code of 2-1-3. Originally this code stood for Lucas Samuels..."

"No! You motherfucker!" Lucas howled at Luigi, wanting to jump at him from the restraints.

"But... thing is, I lied." Freak laughed.

"Wait- what?" Kuro yelled.

"No, you can't do that!" Luigi indignantly shouted.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want, Mr. Russo. Your willingly participation helped me so much, as now I don't have to do the murder myself. You have actually pressed the kill code in for Kuro Husen. Goodbye, Mr. Husen. You were pivotal in my game. Hope you can play some more whenever you get the chance to. Oh, actually, I'm sorry, that'd be impossible, for you'll be dead. Goodbye."

A multitude of events happened. Luigi made a bolting for the door, Lucas and Peach let out rivaling screams, Kuro's being the loudest. The doomed to die watched his own hands unlatch from the restraints, a hole in the floor revealing that, down below, was a prison specifically made for him. The Husen sibling had mere seconds to glare at Luigi straight in the eye before he dropped, unleashing a terrified yell as he plummeted. The panel in the floor slid back in place as Kuro disappeared down to his death. The restraints holding onto Lucas and Peach unlatched too, sending both kids to the floor. Luigi heard the door unlock, and he burst in.

Both were in extreme panic, unable to make sense of anything that had just happened. "I'm so sorry. Guys, I- I am so sorry this happened. Please forgive me, oh please forgive me..." Luigi said over and over again, words tumbling out in awkward timing, jumbling together in one fucked up mess.

"You didn't know what you were doing..." Lucas breathed, seeming to be sensible through it all.

Freak, however, hadn't disappeared yet. "Oh, and I forgot. This structure shall collapse in fifteen seconds," the killer said, counting down. "Fifteen... fourteen..."

There was no time for petty chats, no time to see if anyone was alright. A door opened on the other side of the room, back in far right corner, which meant to run pass the gun, run past the saw, run past the trap door where a broken body of Kuro Husen laid, cut open and spilling blood everywhere. Luigi, Lucas, and Peach all locked eyes before making a mad dash towards the door.

"Fuck!" Luigi hissed.

Lucas tripped over a chain bolted to the floor, his foot getting looped in the metal. The entire shack or whatever the hell it was shook like mad, it truly was about to come down any second. Luigi stopped, head swiveling. He jumped for Lucas, to help him, to save him. He would not have another friend die on his watch. He already screwed that one up with Kuro a mere minute before.

The blonde's eyes turned from panicked to angry. "No! Leave me!"

"You'll die!" Luigi screamed.

"Get out of here!" Lucas gave a shout, ripping from his foot stop, giving his friend a huge shove.

The boy in green shouted, slamming into Peach who had stopped outside in the snow, staring blankly at the cabin. As soon as Luigi hit pallid, icy ground, the roof of the cabin collapsed, falling in. Lucas became hidden from view, the structure crushing him as a painful scream ripped through the night.

"No... no! Lucas!" Luigi roared at the top of his lungs, before collapsing into a pile of sobbing tears in the snow.

Freak did his job well.

A little too well.

Jeezum! That was probably the most stressful chapter of them all, wouldn't you agree? And wow... so, we've got a supposed dead Marth, maybe a dead or hurt Sheik, a dead Kuro, and what do you think with Lucas? Dead or alive? I, of course know, but I won't say anything. I hope this chapter had it all that you were looking for- action, suspense and bloodshed! Something fishy to you guys or not? Zelda and Link haven't been seen since Chapter 4. Where is our lovely couple, hmm? We'll find out soon enough, won't we? Thanks for reading guys! I'm sorry about the one day delay, I really wanted to get it out yesterday, but I started typing way too late than I normally do. Please review! Let me know what you thought! And, I'll see you all in February for Chapter #8: Penultimate Peril, where the characters who haven't had the spotlight or aren't dead will be shown. You know that means Samus is back, right? 5 chapters left you guys, and then this story shall be complete! Woot! Have a wonderful day! Bye!

~ Paradigm