It was a dark and shitty night. The sound of drums could be echoing from a distance, like thunder. The lights flashed like the sky having a stroke. Inside the house sitting alone on the hill, dead as a mouse in a blender. The wicked drums beat and the strobe lights flash. Yet the house never makes a sound. In the halls, the secret shadow moves. Yet no light guides the way. It slowly makes it to a shabby door. The paint had slowly faded as it had not been cleaned in decades.

However, on the floor lies a plate of food that hasn't been touched. The steam ascends to the ceiling as if it was just placed there. The shadow picks up the plate for further examination. At first glance, the plate looks normal... Except for two things; no fingerprints, and its lactose free.

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The shadow swiftly turns his head around to see a menacing figure. His teeth stained white with cheetos and dressed in a dad suite. He steps out of the shadows and speaks "Hello my name is Markiplier. Today we'll be playing..." His head spins 360 as his voices trills up with several noise of dying. He stops, bending his head to touch his chest, eyes facing towards you and screeches like a bat, finishing his sentence, "... With your life".