To: jq@edc.ml.org
Date: 	Sun, 18 Jan 1998 15:33:22 -0700
From: "Butcher -chan" 
Cc: dbrubaker@rica.net
Subject: JQ: FIC: Haunting Murders
Organization: MailCity  (http://www.mailcity.com)
Sender: owner-jq@edc.ml.org
Reply-To: jq@edc.ml.org

Disclaimer: Alexis Ericta and PAIN TV own the JQ2000 team.  Jonny, Jessie, and Hadji
are owned by H-B.  The murderers are real people, they own themselves.  I have $22.00
at the beginning of this work.  I will continue to have $22.00 until I get my allowance
or blow it on something pointless.  (Author's note: At the time of this publishing,
the $22.00 had been spent on "Jagged Little Pill" by Alanis Morissette.)
Thanx to: Mark Oxman, who was my inspiration for these babies; Jessica Brubaker,
for helping me with the murders and generally being a great friend; and my entire
cyber-family, especially Amanda and Chrissy.
Rating: 2K, bloody death, mild language

	Rain poured down.  Thunder rumbled ominously.  Lightning split the sky like an electrical
axe.  Hadji Singh tried to keep the minivan on the dirt road.  
	"Hadj! Look out!" Jonny Quest called from the backseat.  Hadji swerved to avoid
a fleeing rabbit.  
	"We're never going to get back to the Compound in this weather," Jessie Bannon sighed.
 
	"I hope we don't have to spend the night in here," Claudette Monchier chimed in.
 
	"It doesn't look like we'll have to," Mishelle Taylor-Jenks reported, leaning forward
and squinting through the windshield.  "I think I see a house up ahead."  
	"She's right," Travis Crenshaw agreed.  "It's up there on that hill."  Just then,
lightning struck from somewhere behind the house, silhouetting it.  
	"This is so unbelievable," Travis's twin, Bryce, said.  "It's just like a bad horror
movie."  
	"I agree, Bryce-kun," Tai-Lee Natsume consented.  "Are we going to go in, Hadji?"

	"Do you see any other alternatives?" Hadji asked grimly.  He steered the car into
a long, winding driveway, drove up it, and parked in front of the large house.  

	"Okay, guys, run for the front door!" Jonny ordered, opening the sliding door on
the side of the minivan.  
	The eight dashed to the front door.  Claudette jimmied the lock, and it opened with
a creak.  
	"Y'know what I said earlier about this being like a bad horror movie?" Bryce asked,
stepping in and looking around.  "I take it back.  This is a bad horror movie." 
Jonny followed Bryce in and glanced up the stairs.  He saw a young woman dressed
in a white T-shirt, a black miniskirt, and black ankle boots.  The blonde boy did
a double take, but saw nothing there.  *Weird,* he thought.  
	"Why don't we go upstairs to check out the bedrooms?" Mishelle asked from behind
him, breaking into Jonny's reverie.  
	"Good idea," Travis said.  "Come on, Jonny."  The three went up the staircase and
down the dark hallway.  Travis opened the first door on the right and glanced inside.
 
	"It's a bedroom," he reported.  "Looks like a guy's.  Two beds."  
	"Looks good to me," Jonny said.  "I call this room."  He walked in and closed the
door behind him.  Suddenly, he felt someone grab his shirt collar.  With scared blue
eyes, Jonny stared into the calm hazel ones of the female he'd seen at the top of
the stairs.  Her strong hands spun him around to face the bed.  On each corner of
it was a spike-like bedpost.  They looked very, very sharp.  
	"See those, Jon?" she asked, her voice like silk.  "Those same bedposts killed the
previous owners of the house.  Now, your blood will be added to the story. . . ."
 
	Jonny couldn't even scream as he was lifted into the air, placed over the bedpost,
and shoved down.  The bedpost sheared through his chest, slicing through his heart,
his lungs, everything.  Blood splashed over the bedspread, the headboard and the
mysterious girl.  The last thing Jonny heard as he slipped into blackness was the
girl's laugh. . . .

	Hadji was worried.  He hadn't seen Jonny for over an hour.  Travis had said that
Jonny had gone to sleep, but Hadji didn't believe it.  
	"I'm going upstairs," he said.  "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, send someone
up after me."  He walked up the stairs, opened the first door on the right, and stepped
in.  The Indian boy looked around, and the first thing he saw was his adopted brother
laying impaled on the bedpost.  
	"Oh, my--!" Hadji gasped, stumbling away from the awful sight.  His back connected
with a pair of doors, which opened inwards.  Hands grabbed his shirt and dragged
him the rest of the way in.  
	The next thing he knew, a pair of lips had been forced upon his.  Hadji stiffened
instinctively.  The lips pulled away from his, and a malicious laugh slid into his
ears.
	"Now that you have experienced your last earthly pleasure," said a cruel female
voice, "you shall die."  He felt something sharp slide into his throat, then warm
liquid began bubbling up his trachea.  Blood streamed over his lips and down his
chin.  The sharp thing was shoved deeper in, and Hadji began to fall. . . .
	One minute later, a blonde girl wearing a white dress shirt and black leggings,
walked out of the closet, rubbing a dried, red liquid off of her hands.  

	Tai-Lee checked her watch anxiously. It was nine-fifteen now, and Hadji still wasn't
downstairs.  She stood from the overstuffed couch she and Travis had been occupying,
and announced, "I'm going upstairs to check on Hadji."  
	"Be careful, Tai," Travis warned her, looking up at her.
	"I'll be fine, Trav-kun," she said reassuringly.  "But, just in case, if I'm not
back in five minutes, send someone up after me."
	"All right," Travis said, sounding relieved.  Tai-Lee walked away from the group,
up the stairs, and into a hallway.  She glanced around, her brows furrowing.  *Which
one was it that Jonny went into?* she wondered.  Something grabbed her left elbow
and began tugging.  
	"What the--?" The Asian girl suddenly found herself face-to-face with a auburn-haired
girl.  
	"I'm so glad you could join us," the auburn-haired girl whispered, her voice like
dry paper.  She dragged Tai-Lee into a small room, which was quickly identified as
the bathroom.  "See that?  That same sink killed the previous owners of the house.
 Now you'll join the story."  Tai-Lee felt her head being shoved into a sink filled
with water.  She desperately tried to surface for air, but the auburn-haired girl's
efforts doubled.  Finally, with a gurgle, Tai-Lee inhaled some water and her brown
eyes closed for the last time. . .  .

	Bryce sat on the couch, feeling as relaxed as he could in this strange house.  Jessie
had her head resting on his shoulder and was half-asleep.  
	"Bryce?" she murmured groggily.  "Wake me if anything happens, 'kay?" 
	"All right," Bryce answered, gently lifting Jessie's head from his shoulder, putting
a pillow there, and placing her head back.  Jessie's breathing became soft and even.
The black-haired boy lifted Jessie's head from his shoulder, stood, and laid her
back down.  He looked around the room and smiled.  Everyone else had fallen asleep
long ago.  Bryce frowned slightly and looked at the large wall clock.  It read ten-oh-five.
 *I think I'll go upstairs and check on Tai,* he thought.  With that, he walked up
the stairs and into the first room on the right.  A horrifying sight greeted him.
 Jonny was laying on the bed, a large hole in his chest.  Hadji lay next to him,
a hanger sticking out of his throat.  
	"Oh, my God!" he uttered involuntarily.  As he stumbled backwards to get away from
the awful sight, he never noticed the crowbar coming into contact with his head.
 
	Bryce came to staring into a pair of warm brown eyes.  
	"Hello, Bryce," said a silky female voice.  "It's time for you to meet your doom."
The black-haired boy pushed himself to his elbows and blinked to focus his vision.
 
	"Wh-what are you talking about?" he asked.  The girl stood, revealing black shorts
and a white cropped top.  
	"What I'm talking about is the legacy of this house," the girl answered, almost
reverently.  "No one in over a hundred years has gone into this house and escaped."
 Bryce stared up at her, his face paling as she lifted a club with a nail protruding
from it above her head.  Then she slammed it into his forehead, and the world went
black. . . . 

	Travis came awake feeling something awful had happened.  He looked around, blinking
away his sleepiness.  Mishelle was asleep next to him, her face pillowed in his chest.
 The copper-haired boy saw, with growing horror, that only he, Mishelle, Claudette,
and Jessie remained.  
	"Mishelle?" he whispered.  "I'm going to get up to have a quick check around, okay?
Don't wake up. . .please."  Travis slowly slid off the couch and stood, stretching
out the kinks in his arms and legs.  He went into the kitchen and cautiously explored
it.  *Maybe I should have woken Mishelle up,* he thought.  Just then, a door swung
open, revealing a black-haired girl wearing a thin white blouse and tight black jeans.
 She pointed to each of the entrances, and a jelly-like green substance oozed over
them.
	"Ah, Travees!" she said in an awful French accent.  "I zee you 'ave come to your
doom!" 
	"Cut the accent," Travis snapped.  "What do you want?" The girl smiled evilly. 

	"What I want," she said, the accent gone, "is you."  She advanced towards him, her
high heels clicking softly against the floor.  Travis started backing away nervously,
looking for an escape route.  The next thing he knew, she had flicked a lit match
at the oven.  He realized that it was a gas oven.  
	As the oven exploded, the last thing Travis heard as a piece of shrapnel pierced
his chest was the girl saying, "If I can't have you, no one will. . . ."  
	
	Claudette opened her eyes, stretched, and promptly fell off the couch she had been
laying on.  She swore under her breath and stood.  
	"Where is everybody?" she asked aloud, seeing that only she, Mishelle, and Jessie
were still in the room.  No answer.  "I think I'll have a look around."  The French
girl walked to an entryway and peered in.  The room beyond it was charred and smelled
strongly of smoke.  A body lay on the floor, burned beyond recognition.  One of its
arms was missing, as was one of its legs.  Something glinted on the body in the light
from the main room.  Claudette gasped as she recognized the gold watch Travis always
wore.  
	"Zut alors!" she said, clapping her hand over her mouth.  With that, she turned
from the awful sight and fled across the room, blindly slamming into tables, chairs,
and other assorted decorative pieces.  She kicked open a random door and burst inside
the room it led to.  With a final burst of strength, she collapsed into a chair and
wept.  Someone placed a hand on her shoulder.  
	"Are you okay?" inquired a warm female voice.  
	"Please leave me alone," Claudette requested.   
	"I would never dream of it," the voice replied, its tone going down several degrees.
 "Turn around and look at me.  I can never stab a person in the back."  Claudette
turned to see a brunette young woman wearing a white sweater and black bell-bottoms.
 In her hand was gripped a serrated steak knife.  The knife went downwards and sliced
Claudette's chest open.  Claudette screamed in agony.  Every beat of her now-exposed
heart sent a tidal wave of scarlet liquid over her body and the floor.  The girl
shoved her to the ground and shoved the knife into her heart, ending the pain.  


	Mishelle's grey eyes shot open at the sound of a scream.  She bolted up and ran
in the direction of the scream.  As far as she could tell, it came from the dining
room.  Upon arriving there, she saw a brunette girl kneeling in a puddle of blood,
wildly slicing at something with a steak knife.  
	"What the hell are you doing?!" she shrieked.  The brunette looked up at her, an
insane smile touching the corners of her lips.  
	"Taking care of business," she replied.  "It's your turn. . . ."  Mishelle began
backing away.  When she was at an appropriate distance, she began running.  She hit
the front door with her shoulder and ran outside.  The thunderstorm had gotten worse.
 Rain threatened to brain her, lightning struck in her vicinity, thunder crashed
and ground.  *Where can I go?! Where?!*  Mishelle saw a pair of wooden doors in the
ground.  *A basement! I hope the doors haven't rusted shut. . . .*  She knelt next
to the doors and began tugging at them.  A jolt of relief went through her when the
doors opened easily and soundlessly.  Mishelle slipped in and realized there was
no ground underneath her.  She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped the fall would end
soon.
	Unfortunately, it didn't.  She continued to fall for about five minutes, landing
with a muted thump on what felt like a wooden surface.  Mishelle didn't register
the end of the fall for about ten seconds, then she started to shake violently. 

	"F-F-Fall," she groaned.  "I fell. . . ."  When she had recovered, she sat up and
examined her surroundings.  Something furry brushed by her leg.  	
	"What the--?" Mishelle looked around frantically, to see hundreds of little yellow
eyes staring at her.  A female voice broke the stillness.
	"ATTACK HER!" Suddenly, there were rats everywhere! They snapped at Mishelle's clothes,
gnawed at her body, and were generally being pesky.  One rat sank its sharp front
teeth into her throat, slicing through her vocal cords and silencing her.  Someone
snapped their fingers, and the rats retreated.  A blonde girl glided out of the shadows.
 She wore an oversized white sweatshirt over a long black dress.  Mishelle held her
bleeding throat and stared up at the girl.  
	"I see my rats have done their work," the blonde girl murmured.  "It's up to me
to finish the job."  A gun appeared in her hand.  The gunshot echoed through the
basement, and a bullet lodged itself into Mishelle's forehead.  She fell back, blood
streaming into her lifeless eyes.  

	Jessie opened her eyes and stared into the woven threads of a green turtleneck.
 She sat up and looked down at Bryce, who had a pillow over his head.  A quick glance
around the room confirmed the presence of the rest of the team.  All were asleep
and resting peacefully.  Only they didn't seem to be breathing.  Now worried, Jessie
removed the pillow from Bryce's face, revealing a nickel-sized hole in his forehead.
 The blood around the wound had long since congealed and dried.  Nevertheless, it
was still there.  Jessie screamed.  A low chuckle caught her attention.  She looked
up to see a blonde girl wearing glasses, a white tank top, and black shorts.  
	"You've discovered your friends' fate," the blonde said, crossing her arms.  "Be
glad you'll be joining them in five. . .four. . .three. . .two. . .one."  
	The world exploded.  

	A brunette woman stood outside in the pouring rain, the precipitation mixing with
her tears.  Her T-shirt and miniskirt were soaked, but she didn't care.  *My job
here is done,* she thought sadly.  *I just wish I hadn't had to kill eight innocent
kids so I could go free.  And to make matters worse, all my friends are gone too.*
 As the old house collapsed in flames, the girl put on black, wire-rimmed glasses
and a green jacket.  She pushed up an umbrella and trudged off.  

	Epilogue. . .twenty years later

	Rain poured down.  Thunder rumbled ominously.  Lightning split the sky like an electrical
axe.  Misa St. John tried to keep the minivan on the dirt road.  
	"Misa! Look out!" Paula Johnson called from the backseat.  Misa swerved to avoid
a fleeing rabbit.  
	"We're never going to get back to the hostel in this weather," Mike Harris sighed.
 
	"I hope we don't have to spend the night in here," Greg Park chimed in.  
	"It doesn't look like we'll have to," Chris Harper reported, leaning forward and
squinting through the windshield.  "I think I see a house up ahead."  
	"He's right," Janet Coffman agreed.  "It's up there on that hill."  Just then, lightning
struck from somewhere behind the house, silhouetting it. . . .

So, what'd y'all think? Send all C&C, people to torture, explosives, or anything
else you can think of to jean_leger@mailcity.com!

THE END. . .FOR NOW. . . .
*Feel free to hum the ending theme now*




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