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THRILLER!
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

The five Strokes were seated in a messy circle on the carpet of the hotel room. They had just finished a hellish show in a tiny dive, and it was packed with mostly girls who repeatedly tried to grab their clothes. They were all weary and a little irritable. Nick yawned. "I'm ready to crash, man. I'll see you la --"

Suddenly, the lights flickered once, twice - four times. The stereo that had been softly playing a Blur CD in the background died with a small crackle of static. The lights came on, weakly, then went out completely. Everything was silent for a second.

Albert whimpered quietly. "I'm scared. Someone hold me."

"Hey, the power will come back. Just hold on." Fab sounded optimistic. But when did he not?

They waited a moment or two, silent. Nothing. They heard footsteps going down the hall - and then suddenly a thud and a shriek. Then it was quiet again.

"Okay. Still scared. Can somebody please hold me?" Albert demanded.

"What the fuck was that?" Julian breathed, his dark eyes wide. "What the FUCK was that?"

"I nominate Nikolai to go check it out," Fab said.

"I second that." Nick scooted closer to Julian, his voice fearful.

Nikolai stood up without argument - of course - and made his slow way towards the door. Before he could get there, though, they heard someone coming down the hall. Nikolai saw the bouncing beam of a flashlight moving under the bottom of the door. Then there was a small thud - the sound of the flashlight hitting the floor. Footsteps backing away.

"Holy shit!" a voice yelped, cracking in fear. "Help! HELP ME!"

And then it was silent again.

Albert cleared his throat. The other four all fixed him with a deathly glare - not that he could see it or anything, since it was pitch black.

Suddenly the handle on the door jiggled. Nikolai blinked. It jiggled again, and then the lock clicked. Slowly, the door slid open. Nothing was behind it. The hallway was dark, but the coppery bite of blood was evident.

"Okay, this is slightly uncool," Fab whispered. "What's going on?"

"Nikolai, go check it out," Julian told him.

Nikolai stepped forward cautiously and peered beyond the door. In the dim light, he could make out a figure standing just beyond his vision...

"Who's there?" he called (softly, of course). There was no reply. He took another step towards the figure.

Julian, Nick, Albert and Fab all huddled close together, watching Nikolai with dinner-plate-sized eyes. The only sound in the room was their pounding hearts and bated breath. Nick's hand found Julian's in the darkness and they tangled their fingers together, seeking solace in the contact.

"Nik?" Albert whimpered.

Nikolai glanced over his shoulder at the other four and shook his head. "I see something, but I don't know what it -- GUH!" Suddenly he choked in pain and stumbled forward, his hands clutched to his neck. Then he stumbled forward, something that looked like a very sharp sex toy lodged in his back.

"OH MY GOD! You killed Nikolai!" Fab shrieked.

"YOU BASTARD!" Albert yelled.

The figure stepped into the doorway, its arms raised in victory. It laughed, a horrible, grating sound, like nails on a blackboard. Julian covered his ears and flinched.

"Oh no... No!" Nick gasped. "It can't be!"

The ominous figure laughed again, and Julian slumped against Nick in pain. "I KNOW WHO YOU DID LAST NIGHT!" it cackled.

Albert flushed in embarrassment. "Shit! Don't tell my mom, okay?"

"Who are you?" Julian demanded.

"I'm your worst nightmare," it rasped.

Nick shook his head, eyes glued to the shadow of evil in disbelief. "It's him..."

"Him?" Fab asked.

"Him..." Thunder crashed, lightning flashed. "JACKO THE RIPPER!"

The lightning lit up Jacko's face as he screamed with laughter. His hideously deformed weapon of death upon his face - what must have been a nose, decades ago before he had become twisted and evil and corrupted - made the Strokes (well, the four living ones, anyway) cringe in disgust. His stringy, greasy black locks hung like a veil of matted evil around his face. His bloated face tapered down to a sharp, lethal point where a chin would have been on a normal human being. His fingers were talons, and stank-ass green poison dripped from the well manicured tips. Suddenly, Jacko began to move. His feet slid across the carpet. He was doing the Moonwalk of Death over to the four petrified boys.

"Don't look!" Nick yelled, pinning Julian to the ground and straddling him. "For the love of all that is sacred, DON'T LOOK!"

Albert covered Fab's eyes, and Fab covered Albert's eyes. Unfortunately, Albert suddenly got a shoulder cramp and removed his hands to rub it. Fab's eyes were riveted to the moving and shaking dance of death before him. He rose to his feet and began to mimic Jacko, his eyes glazed and his movements jerky.

Jacko cackled and pulled Fab closer. "Hmm... damn. You're a little too old for my tastes... So I'll just kill you." He slit Fab's throat with one of his talons that dripped stank-ass green poison. Fab was dead within seconds.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Albert wailed. "FAB! Jacko, you scumbag!" He shot to his feet and took a running leap at Jacko, who sidestepped deftly. The curly-haired guitarist grabbed a lamp from the nightstand and swung it at Jacko. The evil murderous apparition of death went down, bleeding. Albert's hands had been cut by the shards of the lamp as it shattered, and he pouted. "You limp dick pigfucker... We have a show coming up in two days. There's no way I'll be able to play with cuts this bad!"

"No need to worry about that," Jacko said, "Because you won't live that long!" He lunged at Albert with his nose outstretched. Albert was too busy inspecting the slashes on his precious hands to notice the attack.

"ALBERT! LOOK OUT!" Nick yelled.

The two went down, wrestling for all they were worth. Albert got in a few good punches, and soon he had the upper hand. He delivered a good kick between Jacko's legs - but the monster was unaffected!

"What the shit?!" Albert yelled.

"You forget, silly mortal," Jacko the Ripper snarled. "I am not hindered by your silly things called testicles!" He began to unzip his Shiny Vinyl Pants of Death and Doom to prove his point, but the three remaining Strokes all screamed and covered their eyes.

"NO WAY, MAN!" Julian yelped.

"Okay, okay," Jacko muttered. "Now stand still, you little hairball, so I can kill you properly."

Albert obediently did just that as Jacko cut him into little bite size pieces. While he was busy doing this, Nick and Julian were sneaking out. They were already out the door and into the hall before Jacko finally realized they were gone. He roared in fury, and the two Strokes began to run at full speed.

Nick pounded his fist on the elevator button, but it was out. "No power!" he lamented.

"Come on!" Julian grabbed his hand and they sprinted towards the stairwell, shoving open the heavy door and taking the stairs down. The two had to stop after half a flight.

"Shit," Nick wheezed. "I knew all that chainsmoking would come back to bite me in the ass one day."

"NO!" Julian yelled. "I won't let us die here! I want to die of old age, warm in my bed, surrounded by my children and my 43 wives and my many, many male concubines, goddammit! But not here! NOT HERE! We're getting out of this place, Nick!"

The two stood and were about to begin running again when they heard the dreaded, raspy voice coming down the stairs, echoing off the walls.

"Oh, no, my pretty kittens... You can't escape that easily..."

"Yeah, but we can sure as hell try!" Julian yelled, and they began down the stairs, taking two at a time. They heard the footsteps following them, and ran faster. They finally made it to the bottom and exploded out into the lobby, which was littered with dead bodies. The stench was repulsive.

Julian went to try the phone at the desk, but Nick cuffed him upside the head. "No power, you dumb shit," he said. "Duh?"

"Oh." Julian blinked. "Right."

"We've got to get out of here, now!" Nick reminded him.

"Look!" Julian pointed behind the desk, where a crate of several heavy-artillery guns was. He climbed over the top of the desk and grabbed a Magnum, a shotgun, and an AK-47. He took a few cans of Mace for good measure. Then he joined Nick on the other side of the desk again and the two stood in the middle of the lobby, waiting for Jacko.

"Come on, you bastard," Julian muttered, clutching the shotgun tight. "Come on..."

And then Jacko was there, his claws outstretched and ready to kill, his teeth bared and ready to tear flesh. But not this time.

Immediately, Nick and Julian let off a round in Jacko's chest and just about everywhere else. The monster stumbled backwards, obviously in pain, but a few bullets weren't enough to kill it. Julian fished through his pockets for more shells and reloaded, cocking the gun and sighting. With this shot, Jacko went down.

"Ha!" Julian spat.

But he was up again in an insant and he was coming for Julian, his eyes wild. He slashed once, twice, and Julian held him off with the barrel of the shotgun. Nick fired a few times, but soon his gun was clicking hollowly.

"Fuck!" he hissed. "Julian...!"

"Nick, go hide behind the desk! Save yourself! I can hold him off, but not for long!" Julian shouted.

Nick was up and running in an instant. He vaulted over the desk and hid behind it.

"You are ALL MINE now, my pet!" Jacko rumbled with laughter.

"I'm not your fucking pet!" Julian yelled, and sprayed a copious amount of Mace right in the beast's eyes. It shrieked in pain and rage and swiped at Julian, ripping a hole in his shirt and cutting his skin. Soon, the gun-toting singer's t-shirt was stained with blood.

Julian made a run for the desk and dove behind it, pulling several guns out and arming himself and Nick heavily. But Jacko simply chuckled.

"You think a simple bullet can hurt me? No, foolish human, you are wrong! You can never hurt me! NYAHAHAHAAA!"

Julian sighed, looking down at the grenade launcher in his hands. Well, shit.

But wait... there was one option... Julian looked at the silver cross on Nick's slender neck, and got an idea. He yanked the cross off, much to Nick's dismay, and pulled his lighter out of his pocket, then brought up a flame and began to melt the necklace. It molded easily into the shape of a bullet, and Julian slipped it into the catalog of a revolver. He took off the safety, and then stood up.

Jacko was gone. The lobby was empty and quiet.

Julian cast a wary glance around, his dark eyes searching. Nothing. Devoid of all evil.

But no! Not quite! Jacko suddenly leapt up onto the desk and started dancing and cackling. "You are mine now, little boy! I will make you beg for your life!" He lunged for Julian.

Immediately, Jules pointed the gun straight at Jacko's evil weapon of death in the middle of his face. "Hail to the king, baby," he growled, and pulled the trigger. The crudely-made silver bullet went straight through Jacko's hideous face, mutilating it further, and exploded out the back of his head.

Jacko slumped to the floor and crumbled to nothing but cologne-scented dust.

Nick stood shakily and wrapped his arms around Julian's neck and breathed a sigh of relief. "Julian... Jesus, Julian..."

Julian pulled Nick close in a comforting embrace and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Nick's head. "It's okay, Nicky. It's over now. We're safe. Everything's gonna be all right."

The low wail of sirens in the distance could be heard as the darkness of night lifted and morning came. The police gave Nick a fuzzy blanket and ambulances came to pick up the bodies. Everyone was still dead, but it would turn out all right in the end, because Nick and Julian were alive, and that was what mattered. They could find a new drummer and guitarist and bassist. No biggie. The ordeal was over.

Or was it?

Back in her evil Malibu Mansion of Doom, a cloaked figure rubbed its hands together and cackled maliciously. "So... Jacko could not finish the job, I see," it snarled. "But I have plenty more minions to dispatch. This battle is not over. The war between good and evil shall never end!"

The figure turned on her large, plastic heel as lightning flashed, filling the room with a blue light and illuminating its repulsive face. The Queen of Boob Jobs And All Else That Is Inherently Evil, Britney Spears, wrung her hands impatiently. "This bloody feud shall never cease... but this time, you little indie vermin, evil will win!"

- - - -

THE END.

Or is it?
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