[JEFF]

I'd decided to give into the itching and spend my killing spree on that one night. I figured whoever was sent to investigate would assume that I fled out of state when really, I would just crawl back into my little hole and wait the scene out. I knew that death was more common here; god knows why, but I saw the obvious advantage. Not sure whether I should have waited just one more night. Hell, one more hour would have done the trick and I'd never have met that "Masquerade" creep. He's delusional, even more than I was five years ago. It'd be hilarious if he wasn't such a sad little thing.

Anyways, my round was going pretty good. Got some asshole that said something like "long hair is for girls and faggots" before I gladly skewered him. Like to think I did his wife a favor, if that was even who was sleeping next to him. No joke, she didn't even look like she was alive, and she didn't stir, so I didn't bother. But there were a few people in this little town that actually seemed decent. This kid, I remembered, was cuddling (with admirable dedication) a huge plastic Transformers figure in his sleep. He looked so happy and peaceful. It almost reminded me of...well, you know.

So, yeah. I skipped that house.

I broke into this one place that was decorated to no end, looked like somebody's birthday had just passed. Except it also looked like these people weren't that comfortable with using the word "birthday," because I passed this huge banner that had that word crossed out and instead up above it was written "anniversary." And that was crossed out too, and squeezed into a corner I saw the words "happy day-on-which-you-were-born!"

I almost chuckled, wondering what could have happened to drive them to do that. I skipped that one, too. Only really shitty people deserve to die on their "not-birthday," if you will.

[MASQ]

Honestly, I can barely believe that I came into possession of his name by asking to his face instead of looking somewhere else. His face is plastered all over the media, his story's been told everywhere. There might not have been a single person in the country, even the world who hasn't seen some variation of Jeff Hodek; the infamous serial killer, whose moniker reeks urban legend.

Yeah. The world. And then there's me.

For most of my life, I didn't have access to news outlets, internet, anything. What little time I did get online was spent searching various names of people I knew. So, yeah. In terms of people like him, I was bound to be a little oblivious.

Maybe I followed him because I didn't know him. Maybe it was because he could have answers to something.

Maybe I was just being stupid.

As I strode closer and closer to the center of the forest, thoughts in my head raced, screeched to a stop, and clashed with each other to form some sort of amalgam nightmare. Most of it was the growing doubt in the back of my mind, telling me that this was a bad idea. And most of that had to do with the fact that I already had a plan.

You're giving up on them, something told me.

I almost walked into a branch, and stubbed my toe on a sharp rock jutting out from beneath a root. I kept walking, at a more steady pace.

You don't even know where you're going.

I swallowed down the urge to even think of the obvious rebuttal to that. Every time I did, my throat contracted and my stomach tied itself in a knot. I'd rather not subject myself to that kind of pain.

My hand was growing numb from being clenched in a fist, and I upturned the bleeding portion of my wrist to stop it from dripping straight to the ground. As my pace slowed, I fiddled with some twine with my good hand. I felt a tug at the small of my back, and realized that my pliers were slipping loose. I sighed and ripped them from my beltline, deciding to carry them myself. My eyelids were sagging, and before I could close them completely, a burning scent jerked me awake.

Without thinking, I ducked behind a tree and pressed my mask to my face firmly with two fingers. There was a tingling, stinging sensation under my nose. My eyes started watering, and I tucked my head into my knees. Acid. Or tear gas, I immediately guessed.

Well played, sir.

Careful not to expose my face, I slowly raised my pliers and snipped at a clean sleeve, ripping a good chunk off. Narrowing my eyes, I held the fabric to my nose and mouth and turned forward to face the rest of the forest. There was a yellow-orangish tint to the scenery now, and I knew for a fact that it wasn't daylight.

I had to almost squeeze my eyes shut to stop them from leaking. As I walked further into the stinging, humid air, I couldn't tell if my face was numb or being pricked with dozens of tiny needles. All I could do was search for some sort of shelter. Operation: hunt down possible madman ally was being put to a hold.

No wonder nobody's been able to catch him before. He's living in the middle of a virtual forest fire.

Twine was still weaved between my fingers, digging into my skin. My other hand was too busy keeping the cloth held to my face. I slowly began sidestepping to the left as I progressed, hoping for some sort of relief from the burning cloud.

About 20 yards further along, I almost tripped over a strangely flat surface. My feet had barely tapped it, and it somehow made a clunking sound that broke the recent silence. I looked down, my eyes watering at an ungodly capacity, at a wooden platform. A small, elongated nick was carved into the side, and latches were visible at the other.

Bullseye.

Yes. He's going to be a good person to have around.

Out of desperation to get out of the painful cloud, I dug my hand under the small crack and yanked with my remaining energy. A painfully loud crack echoed, and I felt something snap below my grip. Broken or not, it had opened. Somewhat.

I wasted no time in climbing down. It was almost pitch black past the first inch, and when my foot lightly grazed the edge of the tunnel, I couldn't feel any kind of step or grip anywhere. I resorted to some kind of old-fashioned rock climbing stance; I held on to the upper ground while trying to secure my feet against the wall.

Eventually, I got to a point where I was at the full extent of my height, and I still couldn't find anything to stand on. Sighing, and heart beating rapidly, I inched my fingers off slowly. No luck.

I dropped down.

I had fallen about 7 feet before my feet made contact with solid ground. Harsh contact. Seething through my teeth, I sat and attempted to massage my ankles. It felt like I'd sprained one of them. This is going to put a damper on my routine.

Something jolted through me when I remembered that this was supposedly Hodek's territory. It felt inconvenient to realize just how dangerous and probably stupid it was for me to follow him just when I'd landed here. I could see no way out. Calling for help was out of the question.

Well, shit.

Guess I'll have to stake my life on persuasion.

Blinking painful tears out of my eyes, I looked around frantically for any signs of life. The trapdoor was shut, with no holes or cracks to shed at least a little light on the dark space. I couldn't see if there was any sort of hallway or room ahead of me. Everything was pitch black.

Yeah. I'm screwed.

Gulping down the anxious lump in my throat, I slowly reached out my hand, attempting to map my way around this space. Maybe I'll hit a light switch or something. As far as I could tell, in front of me was just empty air. I was either in a large room already, or inside some sort of narrow hall.

All comprehensible thought came to an abrupt halt when my wrist was grabbed and a faint, yellow-tinted light illuminated the hallway.

His hands were still soaked in blood, and when I tried to yank mine back, he tightened his grip, and after a few moments, threw me to the ground with unexpected strength. I hit the floor with my face, and felt something snap. I'm dead.

I clenched my fist, and noticed my twine was still being strained between my fingers.

...maybe.

Rubbing one of my eyes with a bare hand, I could faintly see him holding the bloodstained bread knife over his head, an ominous glimmer in his eye. All I could make out were the whites; it was like he was possessed.

"Don't you remember what I told you...?" he growled. I tightened my grip on the twine.

"I need to stay here. That forest, it's...you did something. I just—"

His hand came down sharply, and before my mind could process anything my body immediately rolled to the side as the blade was about to come into contact with my chest. The serrated edge grazed my back just barely, ramming into the floor and leaving him stumbling for balance. Almost without thinking again, I made to grab the hilt, twisting it out of his grip.

He stood up quickly, but before he could try anything I struck him directly in the shoulder.

Jeff the Killer collapsed.