A little bit later.....

You are greeted by the sight of a thirsty nude male buttocks pumping in and out in the act of coitus. Bryce presently has Karen pinned up against the wall in an empty, cobweb laden upstairs bedroom, and he's frantically railing her.

Ugghhhhh yeah, you love all 4.75 inches of it, take it all!

Karen emits an over the top and so fake it's damn near plastic moan of pleasure. This appears to excite the lunkhead even more, and he picks her up with a satisfied grunt to hit a different angle.

Unfortunately for these two, they are unwittingly committing one of the most CARDINAL sins of surviving a horror movie. Of course, this isn't exactly a horror movie per se, but the rules most definitely still apply. Exhibit A? Mercy appears just over Bryce's shoulder. Bryce is naturally oblivious, but Karen's eyes flutter open to behold the eerie pallid doll mask canting to the side in befuddlement just behind him.

AHHHHHHHHH! Karen shrieks.

You lovin' it like McDonalds, bitch?! Oh God Bryce, are you serious right now?

Karen points over his shoulder and screams again. AHHHHHHHH!

DAMN, YOU WANT IT HARDER?! OKAY!

That's about the time Mercy reveals a huge steel pole. She rears back and really puts her back into it, jamming it's sharpened end straight up Bryce's ass. He gives a brief “URP!” of surprise as it pierces through his rectum, barrels through his abdomen, and explodes all the way out the tip of his penis. The pole continues it's journey up and into Karen, shattering through her guts and finally out her back, severing her spine. Mercy then pulls the spike away from the wall, with the two lovebirds still skewered on it like some kind of demented sex-kebab. She holds them aloft, and each of them stare down in numb shock and horror, as they are lifted up off the floor. Gravity then does the rest of the work, tearing open their bodies even more as they sag back down, causing blood, viscera and entrails to hit the floor with a wet meaty SPLAT. Mercy shakes the pole, and Bryce and Karen start comedically bouncing up and down, literally losing their guts in the process. Bryce futilely tries to catch his, but it just slithers through his fingers. Mercy walks the entire depraved human kebab to the nearby broken bay window and simply tosses the whole shabang through it. The thick CRACK sound of them hitting the pavement just below is the last we hear of them.

Meanwhile....in the basement....

Hailey looks up in response to a dull thudding sound from outside. What was that?

Kevin looks up from the pile of moldering fashion magazines he was inspecting with a flashlight. What was what?

I thought I heard something.

It's probably just your imagination. It's creepy AF in here. He gets up and trains the flashlight beam under his face, making a goofy expression. MWAHAHAHA!

Hailey allows a light chuckle. You're a dork. But we should probably go find Bryce and Karen.

I think we should give them a bit.

Huh? Why....? Hailey stops short then. UGH! You think....here?! That's gross!

Kevin shrugs. Danger and fear can be kind of sexy, I guess. He retrains his flashlight on Hailey. Do you think so?

I don't know. I mostly just think this whole place smells like my grandparent's basement after it flooded. She eyes the basement stairs. I do wanna get out of here though.

What's the hurry? Kevin smiles a strange sort of smile, but his voice cracks with nervousness on the word “hurry”. Hailey eyes him strangely in reply and moves past him towards the stairs. But Kevin quickly intervenes, blocking her egress.

Seriously. I want to leave.

Come on, you don't believe that stupid Mercy story, do you?

No. I think it's bullshit. But I....I still wanna go. So, excuse me.

Kevin bites his bottom lip and glances back at the stairs before returning his gaze to Hailey. You wanna go hang out in the car then?

I want to hang out far away from here. Hailey meets Kevin's gaze, and for the first time she notices something decidedly off there. Something she's never seen out of Kevin before. Something nervous but hungry at the same time. An involuntary shiver works it's way up her back. She goes to pass Kevin again and he intercedes once more. What the hell, Kevin?

Do you like me, Hailey?

Huh?

Do you LIKE me?

Hailey shakes her head. I mean....yeah. You're a good friend. Kevin's face tics perceptibly. A slight little twist of barely concealed rage. Hailey takes a step back from him. Are you okay?

You don't get how this works do you? Kevin mutters. He reaches deep down into the front of his pants. Hailey damn near chokes in shock. Kevin fishes around in there for a moment before finally pulling out a hat. Actually, not just any hat....a fedora. Hailey instantly recoils at the sight of it.

Oh my God, what are you?!

Kevin doffs the fedora and a leering smirk creeps onto his features like an encroaching mold. Why, I am Le Ultimate Gentleman, MILADY!

NO!

YES! Kevin advances, and only now do details that Hailey had somehow missed before come into sharp focus. The peach fuzz dotting his neck, a vile precursor to a neck beard. The miasma of Axe body spray that's fighting and failing to cover up the sickly sweet stench of unwashed body. And FUCK YOU FOR FRIENDZONING ME YOU BITCH! I am a NICE GUY you FISHY CUNT! Kevin rages. And I have been NICE TO YOU for like FOUR WHOLE DAYS! FOUR DAYS THAT I WILL NEVER GET BACK!

Okay....okay.... Hailey stammers, breathless with fear. So what does that mean?

It means I EARNED SEX! Kindness goes IN, sex comes OUT! What is it about the stupid female brain that doesn't get that?! The boy screeches, clenching his tiny fists. Such is the force of his rage that a pimple on his forehead steams open and ejects a tiny rivulet of pus.

Just calm down Kevin, let's talk about this.....

The time for talk is over! NOW TOUCH MY PENIS! Kevin lunges at her and grabs her hand, pulling it down over the zipper on his pants. Haileys hand meets the mass there, although mass is perhaps inappropriate. More like...small hill? Glorified insect bite? Kevin moans in pleasure, but Hailey is able to pull her hand away. GOD DAMMIT BITCH I WAS ALMOST DONE!

But Hailey responds by swiftly kneeing him in the crotch! Kevin doubles over as his blue balls now turn a shade of red. Hailey wastes no time bounding for the stairs, and she throws herself up them and into the kitchen. Running through the dusty, bare living room, she reaches the the shattered wall and leaps through it....and promptly stumbles over the bodies of Bryce and Karen! Hailey looks back and she screams at the brutal carnage of their tangled bodies.

HAIIIILLLEEEEYYY! Kevin appears silhouetted in the remains of the broken glass wall. Remarkably, he seemed unfazed by the corpses. Advancing on Hailey, he begins to unbuckle his pants. Hailey squirms and crab walks backwards, a small cry of fear lingering on her tongue. But, just as Kevin is about to reach her...she was there.

Mercy.

It's over in a flash, a quick snicker-snack of her bladed fingers and Kevin's unimpressive package is laying on the ground. His voice sings Soprano as it dawns on him what happened. MY DIIIIIIIIIIICK! He bends low to retrieve it, leaving him wide open for Mercy to drive a blade deep into the back of his skull, turning his lights out for good. Kevin collapses face first onto his severed member.

Mercy turns her attention to Hailey then. Hailey throws a hand up defensively. WAIT! I KNEW IT! Against all reason, the girl smiles. YOU'RE A FEMINIST!

...what?

YOU ARE! You just killed two examples of toxic masculinity! You're an ICON!

I also killed Ja'Quan.

Who?

Mercy snorts derisively. And he had the gall to call ME racist?

Whoa, hey, I am NOT a racist! I'm so woke! Like, the woke-EST.

You forgot all about the black guy.

Hailey looks frazzled. Listen, I am, like, TOTALLY for reparations. She shakes her head. You know what, nevermind! Mercy, we're the same, you and I. We are both all for empowering women. Rising above the dumb cultural expectations people have for us. We're like....sisters!

Mercy pauses, and Hailey presses her advantage.

Pussy power UNITE! She raises a hand for a high five.

Mercy swipes at her hand, and four of Hailey's fingers tumble to the ground like discarded ballpark franks. Only then does she realize how grossly she miscalculated. She screams.

Still later...

Mercy is seated in a rocking chair in the attic of her home. Just to her left, a filthy old crib. And from what we can hear, something seems to be inside it, something that is whimpering in a choked and desperate cadence.

The masked horror crosses one leg over the other, and considers the camera before her.

Happy Halloween. How fitting that on this day of pretend and make believe, where you can slip into any identity you wish, that the topic of who we are should hold such importance. Funny that the very little man who dares call me stereotypical would openly admit he's based his entire career on aping a pro-wrestling curtain jerker best known for being the butt of jokes.

Brian, you have me all figured out don't you? “Mercy is living in the past.” To an extent, you're correct. There's a part of me that will always be on that butcher's table. A part of me that will always be that insecure girl looking in the mirror and seeing nothing but imperfection. It's foolish to imply that what you WERE doesn't inform what you ARE. We are all the sum of our parts, Brian.

But your biggest error was in assuming what my past did for me. You seem to think that it's a weight about my neck, dragging me down. She laughs a mirthless little laugh. You're wrong. My past? It's FUEL. Liquid rage pouring down my throat 24/7, urging me on to commit the UNSPEAKABLE day in and day out. I'm a combustion engine running on the memories of all the ways I was wronged and mistreated. And you suggest that's what makes me WEAK? No honey, that's what pulls me out of bed in the morning. It's what prompts me to step out into that bright sun shiny day and look upon all those pretty smiling faces that I want to see choke on their own blood.

MEMORY IS MY GASOLINE, BRIAN! She barks the line out. And if that weren't enough, you have the audacity to call yourself an Innovator, as though you have some trademark filed on atrocity. You like to crush wills, Brian? Good for you. But I don't stop there. I crush LIVES. You stop short of completely owning another human being. Of taking everything they have. And you stop because you're SCARED. Because despite all the pain you've supposedly suffered you can't imagine going full monster. She shakes her head slowly. But I've discovered the key. Oh yessss......

“He who makes a beast of himself, get's rid of the pain of being a man.”

My mind is as stripped down and hollowed out as my body. I'm nothing but beast. A force of violence. A paragon of fear. Faceless and devoid of feeling. So tell me Innovator, how do you plan to break that? Even my body barely feels anymore. Infection has rendered half my nerves cold and dead.

Admit it. You have NO plan. Which is why you just filled the airwaves with hollow preening and boasting. But you don't understand what the hell I am or how to fight me. Too bad. But at least one good thing will come of this. You'll have one more thing in common with Crash when all is said and done.

You'll both be dead.

Another moan escapes from the crib but Mercy pays it no mind.

Atara, you might be my brightest opponent. You at least have the good sense to be terrified. But on second thought, you ARE yet another one of those dolts who tarts it up every night and then wonders why nobody takes you seriously. “Oh, but to be relegated to the role of sex kitten again” she bemeoans as she drops her towel and shakes her ass for the camera. Mercy cants her head.

Are you fucking serious?

Problem number one is staring back at you from that mirror you so cherish, girl. You can't piss and moan about being seen as eye candy when that's all you show the world. You think you're bringing something new and different to the fold, but the fact is that there are countless vapid girls who have come through the XWF trying to have their cake and eat it too, playing the role of the pouty lipped sexpot while INSISTING that they're something more. Contrary to what Brian had to say about me, YOU are the biggest cliché in this match.

You want to earn some real respect? Some REAL scars? Survive this match with me. You may not be much to look at afterwards, but at least then you'll be more than just a sentient thigh gap.

One thing I will give you though is your flair for mythology. But me? I've always been more of a Moloch girl myself. Because I demand my sacrifices in blood too. And tomorrow, your temple, your church, is going to be FLOODED in it. We'll see if your people are quite so quick to praise you if they can't bear to look at you. But I'll do you one favor, girl. I'll let you pick one body part to stay intact. Face doesn't count, that's too easy. No cheating now. She waggles a bladed finger. But pick one. Seriously. Arm. Leg. That slender shoulder. Pick one to stay unsullied. Because I want you to have that reminder of what you once were. I want you to carry that burden with you. Maybe then you'll see just how fleeting the flesh truly is.

Mercy leans back in her seat, and you can imagine her worn face is smiling.

And last....but certainly not least...our vampire matinee feature. I do hope this isn't a ploy. I want your blood. I want to feel what it feels like to have that red hot white death coursing through my veins. But even if you are a joke, I suppose I'll still glean some entertainment from taking you apart.

Mercy flicks her bladed finger tips together, and they produced a ringing sound of steel on steel that's enough to send a shiver down the hardiest of spines.

All this time I've been butchering tired stereotypes. In effect, I've been killing all of you. The pentultimate horror movie monster whose legacy has been made trite and fit for shitty romance movies and mass consumption. The “quirky hardcore fighter” who openly admitted he's basing his entire career on that of a dead curtain jerker. And Atara, just another pretty pile of jiggling flesh and perfect teeth, whoring herself out for a second glance and a shot at greatness. Tomorrow, you all pay the toll to the ferryman to get across the Styx. Don't forget your coins. I hear Purgatory's a bitch.

She turns her head back towards the crib, where the whimpering has never quite settled. She gets up and goes to the grib, placing her hands on the edge and gazing down at whatever's inside of it, looking like some twisted facsimile of doting motherhood. But none of you really matter, I suppose. All just icing on the cake in the end. Because I've already found my true heart's desire. Mercy reaches into the crib and pulls out a gore stained mass. With revulsion, you realize it's Hailey. Or part of her anyway. She's been wrapped tight in a blanket with zip ties, but that's only to keep her awake and aware in the face of the massive blood loss from the stumps where her arms and legs used to be. Now just a torso swaddled like a babe, Mercy carries her back to the rocking chair. Hailey starts to scream and cry beneath the gag, her eyes wide, unblinking, and in the throes of pure terrified insanity.

Hussshhhh...Mercy coos at Hailey. She starts to rock gently in the chair and sing her a lullaby.

Sleep, baby, sleep,
Your father tends the sheep,
Your mother shakes the dreamland tree,
And from it fall sweet dreams for thee…