This story is still under construction and will later be placed on Fanfiction.net. Any criticism, good, bad, honest, or critical is welcomed, heck, encouraged. That's the only way to improve.
The story is probably best not read by anyone who has not watched or cannot handle watching horror movies. If you haven't seen "Halloween, Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street, or SAW, you should probably stop reading here. If you're a big boy or girl with a decent grasp on reality, and don't plan to use fiction as an excuse for indecent or violent acts, then please continue reading.
The characters are as in character as I think I can make them. Some fun is poked at pairings like Cam (that's what I ship by the way), Cibby, Spasha, Spam, and etc. It's all in good fun, don't take it personally. I like to make contextual gags at things we see in the series. If I had been around earlier, I would have contributed to 3/4ths of the Innuendo page, seriously.
So uh, enjoy. It's still a work-in-progress as you'll be able to tell.
A serial killer is discovered in Seattle and Freddie, his mom, and Sam all move in with the Shays. Spencer reignites his relationship with Sasha Striker at the same time. Can they uncover the killer's identity and not get killed in the process?
Carly Shay didn't have to fetch her house key to unlock the door to her apartment, 8C, because the door itself was rarely locked. She was always the first one to go out in the morning due to school and the fact that Spencer slept in on the weekends. Her older brother had never been very responsible, but if there was one thing she could give him credit for, it was always making the necessary calls to have their door repaired every time Sam or some violent inconvenience destroyed or damaged it. The lock on the door had been snapped, cut, broken fifteen times. The door had been kicked, tackled, and smashed in seventeen times. They’d replaced it about a week ago, and already this door was already on its last legs.
Opening the door to the Shay abode, Carly uttered half of her usual greeting before she saw her brother and a woman sitting on the couch watching television. Together, they were the source of the chirping laughter that Carly heard from the hallway, rounding the adjacent corner that led to 8C. When she'd opened the door, the laughter died as the woman and her brother spotted her.
"Hi Carly." Sasha Styker said, waving to her.
"Hey kiddo!" Spencer added, not at all disturbed.
"Hiya." Carly said with a bit of reluctance. Her voice, while calm, was weak and feeble, as if she'd caught a cold. In her mind, she and Sasha Striker hadn't really gotten the chance to know one another. The only reason they had ever met, so to speak, was because Spencer had an addiction to an arcade game and his career was starting to unravel as a result, which made Carly and her friends film a webcast in the hopes of finding Sasha, holder of that game's world record high score. When Spencer outdid Sasha's high score by a measly hundred or more points, he bid Ms Stryker farewell with a kiss and finally got back to his job. And his baby sister came out of the ordeal with ten extra bucks.
Sasha had never called or shown up again for what had to be years, and Spencer hadn't referenced or even mentioned her despite what some would call 'flaring tension' between the two gamers. He had gone on dates with many women since then: old flames, teachers, more teachers, ex-babysitters, rich people, and he'd even found a date for Freddie one time. Yet nothing ever reminded him of Sasha, that "woman in the sexy purple tank top" who graced their home and disappeared like the wind. Back then, Carly assumed that Sasha wanted to go into permanent retirement and never be found by a trio of preteens ever again.
Yet here she was, acting all carte blanche with an arm around Spencer’s waist; this scene nearly mirrored the time Spencer walked in on Carly and Griffin. Suddenly, Carly smiled. On one of the tens of thousands of comments left on the iCarly website, she remembered a small fan group that had started prior to Webicon that was dedicated to reuniting Spencer and Sasha. Spasha, if memory served. The group perished when all of its members started a subsequent club, Spam, whose purpose was to see Spencer Shay and Carly's best friend Sam engage in romance.
Quickly decapitating that venomous thought, Carly left her backpack on the floor as she walked toward the kitchen. Spencer and Sasha were laughing again at the show that was on, some kind of cartoon on Nickelodeon about four green turtles who studied martial arts and fought bad guys. Carly retrieved a glass and the carton of Wahoo Punch in the fridge, eyeing the reunited gamer couple from over the kitchen counter.
Carly decided to open the Q&A. "So you two are back together now?"
"Yeah, looks like it." Spencer answered, followed by a smile and a nod from Sasha.
"Yeah, I was just in town looking to grab my pre-ordered copy of Halo 4 and we happened to walk into the store at the same time."
"I was actually looking to get Black Ops 2, but still, it was amazing! We saw each other and just started talking about the last couple of years and stuff!"
"Speaking of which, we never finished that conversation. I emailed Carly my number and she said it gave it to you, but you never called me."
"Well I..." Spencer glanced at his sister who wouldn't offer him any answers and happily awaited his answer. "...was busy cause all this crazy stuff happened after you left."
"Oh really? Like what?" Sasha smiled, and Carly could see the blood drain from Spencer's face.
"Like uh, this fire broke out in Carly's room and we both had to get jobs to pay for the repairs! And this evil little kid named Chip started terrorizing us because I got his brother sent to military school!"
"Military school? You sent some poor kid to military school?"
"To be fair, he was really mean to Spencer. He used to attack him whenever no one was looking and act normal afterward." Carly chimed in.
Between the video games and the nostalgia, Carly finally accepted it. Spencer and Sasha were an item, lost and found again. The first day they'd met, they stayed up for hours together, them and a bunch of geeks from the video game channel, and connected in a nerdy way.
Carly turned toward the stairs and told Spencer she was going to work on her homework, but she turned around, "Spencer, you've got to stop watching Nick, there's nothing good on there anymore."
"I LIKE TEENAGE CRIME-FIGHTING TURTLES!" Spencer shouted, a characteristic sort of response for him really.
Carly giggled and skedaddled. In an hour or so, Sam and Freddie would come over like they always did, so she wanted her homework done so that they could stay up without distractions. By the time she finished her homework, Carly recognized the sounds of the front door being opened and closed, and the patter of Sam and Freddie barging in on Spencer's date.
Her blonde best friend had already invaded the refrigerator by the time Carly made it downstairs. Sam, hungry as ever, pulled a jar of peanut butter from one of the cupboards and dipped a slice of ham into the opening. As nauseating as this might have seemed, Sam quickly plowed the mixture of meat and peanut paste into her mouth without objection. She greeted Carly and thanked her for unlimited access to her family's fridge, but Carly was too distracted by what was going on in the center of the living room to correct her.
Mrs. Benson, with son attached in her right hand, howled at Spencer about matters unknown. Carly knew this part of Marissa Benson well; there was a part of Freddie's mom that showed itself only when her son was in immediate danger and she couldn't be near enough to protect him. Freddie looked like the very color of misery as his mother ranted at Spencer. Carly and Sam knew better than to get involved, especially when Mrs. Benson was demanding something for her son, and contently listened in.
"Spencer, I don't want Freddie home alone while I'm at work. I want him to stay here until I can hire another bodyguard." Carly saw the skin around Spencer's face push inward at Mrs. Benson's request. It wasn't much of a request of course, because when she used that tone of voice, it was like the world was caving in on itself because of her nagging. And if Mrs. Benson wasn't appeased, then they would all be buried alive in her wrath.
"Hold on, why don't you just hire that Gunsmoke guy again?" Spencer paused and then corrected himself. "And make sure he stays in YOUR apartment and doesn't come anywhere near me?" This also made Carly smile, picturing Gunsmoke putting Spencer into a choke hold for giving Freddie a high-five. Little sisters shouldn't have enjoyed the suffering of their siblings, and Carly did feel a little bad that there was a part of her that did. But it was a minor case of schadenfreude. She would never willingly put her older brother in danger. No, never.
"I would." said Mrs. Benson, agitated. "But he hasn't returned any of my calls or faxes. There is a dangerous criminal loose in our neighborhood and my son is staying in an apartment completely unsupervised!"
"What about T-Bo?"
"I wouldn't trust him if I had just fallen down an elevator shaft and he was the only skilled doctor within a fifty-mile radius!" she made a brief pause for emphasis. Being an avid television watcher, Carly imagined a fake laugh track playing when she saw her brother's reaction - stunned, unable to counter Mrs. Benson and trying his best not to make eye contact with the mad woman. Mrs. Benson continued, "Now let Freddie and I stay here!"
Sasha threw in her two cents as well. Not that the opinion of a non-regular house guest amounted to anything in this case."Mrs. Benson, if you don't mind me saying so, your son and his friends managed to contact me over the internet using their web show. They're all pretty resourceful."
"Let me repeat myself.” ignoring Sasha completely, Marissa focused on Spencer so her vision seemed to be slicing into him. Carly saw this and wondered if Mrs. Benson was trying to steal her brother’s soul, and if she was, then she’d killed all the resistance Spencer’s face could muster before stating. “There is a dangerous criminal loose in our neighborhood. Freddie and I, are going to stay here, until I can afford the proper security measures. We are all safer in large numbers. Do I make myself clear?” When she finished, the defeated older Shay surrendered to her with a complacent nod.
This made Mrs. Benson relax and pull up the gigantic medical bag she kept stowed away in her apartment for the occasion. She then informed everyone present that she was going across the hall to bring more of her supplies back over. Laying the medical bag on the floor next to the couch, she turned and excused herself from the room, using the same belligerent voice that she used whenever she barged into the Shay’s abode; the kind of assertive voice that Spencer notoriously lacked when dealing with his baby sister and most small children.
Marissa’s exit made the whole apartment less humid. The Shay siblings took this peaceful moment and made each breath precious, sensing that troubling times awaited them.
Carly and Sam felt it was safe enough to mosey back into the living room and sit down once the door closed and Mrs. Benson’s footsteps scurried away. But the younger Shay noticed her sheltered male friend and his fettered walk as Freddie walked toward the Shay kitchen, seating himself on one of the lavish barstools that rested in front of the counter. There was a light thump sound when Freddie dropped his weary head on the counter, exhausted from what Carly knew was a lifetime of living with a tyrannical parent.
Sasha was shaking her head, glancing at Freddie. “Geez, and you have to live with her?”
Freddie nodded. “I get to deal with that twenty-four seven, eleven months a year; Except when I spend time at a relative’s house during the summer, oh, and five days a week when I can spend time at school and get harassed by Sam.”
Carly already knew what Sam would say. “I haven’t given you a wedgie since the ninth grade!” And she said it with a mouth full of peanut butter, peanut butter that didn’t stay there for long. But she was true to her word. Carly hadn’t seen any spitballs on Freddie’s locker in almost three years.
“Don’t feel bad kid, my mom used to sound just like that when I was still living at home.” Sasha said to Freddie.
“Yeah and how did you deal with it?” he asked.
“I moved out, didn’t tell my parents my new address, and blocked their number on my phone.” she answered nonchalantly.
“He already tried that.” crowed Sam.
“Yeah, and that was just to get the nature channel unblocked.” Freddie rolled his eyes.
“At least you can watch squirrel mating season now.” Carly sniggered, rolling her eyes mockingly. Freddie said nothing and continued to sulk over the counter. He looked cute this way, or so she thought, but maybe that was just her schadenfreude creeping up on her again.
“So what was that about a dangerous criminal?” asked Carly, shaking the previous thought from her head as she faced Spencer for his answer.
She couldn’t believe how calm his voice was. It was like he was expecting an academy award. “Oh, Mrs. Benson saw some report on the news about a serial killer.” Everyone’s attention gathered on Spencer, who had this confused look on his face like a deer caught in the headlights. “What?”
“A serial killer!?” Sam blurted, springing up, translucent with fascination.
“Oh my god.” Carly gasped deliriously. “In our neighborhood? Right now? We need to... we need to call somebody! Dad, a locksmith, someone!?”
“No, no, settle down. We are on the eighth floor of an apartment building!” Spencer reassured. “There’s only two ways in here. The door s’always locked-” He couldn’t finish his sentence because Carly and everyone else in the room knew that that was a lie. And millions of years later, when forensic scientists, from an advanced alien civilization that would one day inherit the Earth, used the Shay family’s DNA to chart a visual guide through human history, they would know it was a lie too. “Okay, but Mrs. Benson’s being way too cautious!” Spencer pouted.
“We’re on the eighth floor of an apartment building. Don’t you think we’re safe enough?”
“Are you kidding me?” Carly disagreed. “That’s the kind of thinking that gets everyone killed halfway through Friday the 13th!” The younger Shay went to find their house phone, insistent that they call a parent or some kind of home security expert.
“Spencer, let’s watch the news and see what’s going on.” Sasha suggested. She shared Spencer’s addiction to gaming, her teenage years brimming with high scores, late nights, and pizza binges. In this case though, she found Spencer’s brand of irresponsibility rather morbid.
Spencer obeyed her and turned on the news. Hare News was, conveniently enough, at King County Prison and conducting an interview with the Chief of the Seattle Police Department. The SPD were denying rumors of a massive prison outbreak, claiming that only one individual had escape and that the inmate would soon be caught. What followed the interview was a warning message from Hare reporters about the gory content about to be discussed. Cameras switched between the family members of the victims, each relating how they’d found their loved one. When each family member finished their recount, a slideshow of names played to represent the hobos that had been killed.
All together, thirty-five people had been murdered in the past two days.
“No wonder my mom’s scared out of her pants.” said a wide-eyed Freddie.
The last time he had been forced to stay with Carly and Spencer, a criminal called the Shadow Hammer was after him because Freddie had recorded a video of him robbing the Groovy Smoothie. That was just a robber. His mom hired a bodyguard for him who’d fought in three wars, but that mattered little because the crook never showed his face.
Sam was the one who needed to be worried. Her house was barely distinguishable from the muck-colored neighboring houses in her neighborhood; a run-down, amoral corner of Seattle where gray sunlight drizzles into every alley and a filthy odor clings to the air. Freddie had been there once or twice while they were dating, and of course Carly had been there to help tend to Sam’s mom or whenever Melanie came to visit. Freddie and Carly both knew about the incident at Sam’s place where one of their neighbors, a tormented young artist who lived one floor above the Pucketts who filed several noise complaints against them. One night, the artist had thrown a fit and broken the front door lock, screaming at Sam, who was watching TV in her living room, to quell the noises. Weeks since then, Carly had been over to Sam’s house and found the lock still in pieces by the front door.
Instinctively, Carly asked Sam. “Do you think your mother would want you to stay with us?”
Sam shrugged. “Don’t know, but I might as well. Seattle’s hardly the place to be after dark, let alone with a psycho out and about. You’d have to be stupid to take those odds.” This coming from the same girl who replied, “Five or six.” when asked how many states there were. A brawler, a baller, an urban explorer at heart; not even Sam Puckett, the female version of Marty McFly, was dumb enough to take her chances walking home tonight. Carly studied her; the aplomb body language Sam usually possessed failing to mask the consternation in her posture. The way Sam’s words shuddered, which was a rare occurrence for her, told the younger Shay everything.
“Want me to call your mom?”
“Nah, Melanie caught the flu last week and my mom’s over there taking care of her.”
Carly shriveled as she looked up at her blonde best friend, joining the unbelieving look on her face with many others. “Your mom’s been out of town for a whole week?”
“She gave me a hundred bucks for food and made sure the electric bill was paid for the whole week!” Sam defended, unchanged.
Spencer got off the couch then, looking at Carly, then at Sam. “Look guys, the police don’t have any sketches of this guy yet, so let’s all just stay calm and use our common sense.” Spencer, as if trying to prove his seniority, began forming a strategy and a schedule for the new and veteran residents of Apartment 8C to follow.
The school would call if the situation got bad enough, meaning that Carly, Sam, and Freddie could have the apartment all to themselves. They were used to it, and Spencer trusted them not to start any fires or put a hole in a wall (or at least, not anymore than he already had). If they did have school, Spencer offered to drive them into school and pick them up like a carpool.
Keys were a smaller issue. “Carly and I have keys. Freddie can have the spare key.” declared Spencer, completing the role assignment and schedule they all promised to follow. Their game plan came together well, particularly because Sam and Freddie were practically siblings to the Shays and regularly waltzed through their front door anyway. Sasha, meanwhile, was living in her own flat downtown.
When the impromptu meeting reached its conclusion, Sasha bid them farewell, and Spencer wanted to escort her down to the lobby. Carly saw their hands embrace before the door shut.
She glanced at her blonde friend, who was now ecstatic about the fact that she would now be getting free food, bedding, and comfort for at least a couple of days. More than the usual amount anyway.
“So what should we do now?” Sam asked her two friends this like the question had waited an hour to leap from her tongue. The silence of the room afterward made it seem like an armor-piercing question, but the blonde and the brunette girls glanced at their male friend, who knew exactly what activity was on their minds.
Freddie smirked. “Want to go make the toilet water turn blue?”
“Yes.” the girls replied, racing each other to the nearest bathroom. Carly surrendered her lead and stopped to grab a box of toilet cleaner, sitting in the corridor to Spencer’s bathroom.