The kitchen covered roughly two hundred square feet and was packed with stainless-steel counters, cabinets, cooking equipment, and storage shelves.
Darius Kane studied the cramped layout for a moment before immediately beginning work on his second defensive position.
He chose the corner beside the sink and pushed every movable cabinet he could find toward it, arranging them into a narrow triangular barricade with only enough room for himself behind it.
Even if Art somehow managed to break through the heavy metal kitchen door, Darius could retreat behind the makeshift wall and keep firing while denying him an easy path forward.
As long as the clown couldn’t close the distance, Darius still had a fighting chance.
Trying to break through my defense?
Not happening.
After checking the barricade one last time, Darius decided there wasn’t much else he could reasonably improve with the materials available.
He glanced at the clock and saw that it was already around 2:30 A.M., meaning the worst part of Halloween night was well underway.
From this point on, he only had two things to do: endure until the mission timer expired and prepare for the possibility that Art might come looking for him.
Darius placed the shotgun beside his position, organized his ammunition within easy reach, and made sure the handgun remained close as a backup.
Once everything was ready, he sat down behind the cabinets, took a drink of Coke, and forced himself to wait patiently.
With nothing else to occupy his attention, Darius finally understood why Terrifier had been selected as a placement trial.
The challenge was both dangerous and strangely manageable, because although Art the Clown was vicious and could apparently return from death, he didn’t possess the kind of supernatural abilities that made escape impossible.
He couldn’t fly through the air, phase through solid walls, teleport directly beside his victims, or casually tear through reinforced barriers with superhuman strength.
Anyone sensible enough to avoid attracting him and hide somewhere difficult to enter could theoretically survive the few remaining hours without ever fighting him directly.
The real danger came from panic, stupidity, or deliberately chasing the optional mission for extra exchange points.
That realization made Darius wonder about the other two residents who had entered the trial with him.
The muscular middle-aged man and the masked woman had both disappeared at the same time, yet Horror Town hadn’t revealed where either of them had been placed.
They could be on the other side of Miles County, hiding somewhere perfectly safe, or they might already have crossed Art’s path.
Darius had no way to contact them, and the ridiculous code word the muscular man had shouted before the transfer wasn’t useful unless they happened to meet by chance.
For now, worrying about strangers would only distract him from surviving his own situation.
Elsewhere in Miles County, the original nightmare continued exactly where the movie’s events had left off.
Tara Heyes had already been drawn into the derelict apartment building after separating from Dawn, unaware that Art had turned the place into his personal hunting ground.
Dawn’s fate had already been sealed, and Tara herself was battered, terrified, and desperately trying to escape after finally realizing that the silent clown wasn’t merely some disturbed Halloween stalker.
She had fought back harder than Art expected, even managing to gain the upper hand for a short time, but the clown wasn’t interested in playing fair once his victim became genuinely dangerous.
When brute force stopped working, Art simply reached for the handgun he carried.
Several shots echoed through the abandoned building.
Tara collapsed.
Art watched her fall before calmly finishing what he had started, his expression carrying the same unsettling amusement he showed throughout every murder.
Dawn had already suffered a far more elaborate death, while the exterminator Mike and the strange homeless woman inside the building were being pulled deeper into the nightmare as well.
Victoria, Tara’s sister, was still on her way after receiving the earlier call, completely unaware of what waited for her inside.
Halloween night had already produced a growing trail of bodies, but Art still wasn’t finished.
There was one person he hadn’t forgotten.
The pizzeria employee who had quietly disappeared before the killing began.
Darius Kane.
Art’s bloodstained smile widened as the memory returned to him.
He collected his large black bag, slung it over one shoulder, and left the derelict building without any obvious hurry.
Around fifteen minutes later, the silent clown arrived back at the pizzeria and stopped outside when he noticed that the restaurant had gone completely dark.
Instead of being disappointed, Art simply stared through the windows for several seconds, as though he already knew someone was hiding inside.
Horror-movie killers always seemed to possess an absurd talent for tracking victims no matter where they ran.
Darius had watched enough slashers to understand that blindly moving from one location to another wasn’t necessarily safer than choosing somewhere defensible and preparing for the inevitable confrontation.
Whether Art had followed instinct, remembered the missing employee, or simply decided to return to the scene didn’t matter.
Darius had assumed from the beginning that the clown might eventually come back, which was exactly why he had prepared the restaurant before sealing himself inside the kitchen.
Running forever would only leave him exhausted when Art finally caught up.
Art pushed open the front entrance and stepped into the darkened dining area.
His first foot landed normally.
The second slid violently forward.
Art instantly lost his balance and crashed onto his back with a heavy thud, his arms spreading as he tried to catch himself on the floor.
He attempted to rise, but the mixture Darius had spread across the tiles made his hands and shoes slide uselessly in different directions, leaving him unable to gain proper leverage.
For several seconds, the murderous clown looked less like an unstoppable slasher and more like someone trapped on an ice rink.
Art quickly realized what had happened.
Someone had deliberately prepared the floor.
Instead of continuing to struggle upright, he grabbed the leg of a nearby table and used it to drag himself forward across the slick surface.
He pulled himself toward the wall little by little until his shoes finally touched an area with enough traction to stop sliding.
Unfortunately for him, reaching that position also put him directly beneath Darius’s second surprise.
The movement disturbed the improvised line stretched nearby, releasing the object secured above.
CLANG!
The hanging hammer dropped hard and struck Art before bouncing onto the floor.
For a few seconds, the clown remained completely still with both hands covering his head.
The trap hadn’t seriously injured him, but the humiliation was obvious from the way his shoulders tensed before he slowly lowered his arms.
Art’s expression changed from amusement to cold fury as he stared toward the rear of the restaurant.
Someone wasn’t merely trying to escape him anymore.
Someone was deliberately making a fool out of him.
Inside the kitchen, Darius heard the impact and immediately knew the trap had worked.
A brief surge of satisfaction ran through him before he forced himself to stay focused, because embarrassing Art was useful only if it bought more time.
The inspiration had come from Home Alone, though the situation here was obviously far less comedic.
Kevin McCallister had an entire house and plenty of preparation time; Darius had a dark pizzeria, limited supplies, and an immortal serial killer trying to reach him.
Still, the basic principle remained useful—if an enemy was stronger up close, make reaching you as difficult and painful as possible.
Art eventually forced himself upright using the wall for support and carefully made his way toward the kitchen entrance.
He wrapped one hand around the metal handle and pulled, but the door refused to move because Darius had locked it securely from the inside.
Art tried again with more force, only to receive the same result.
After staring at the barrier for several seconds, he reached into his black bag and pulled out an axe.
Without hesitation, he swung it against the door.
CLANG!
The impact echoed throughout the restaurant.
CLANG!
Another blow followed, then another, each strike making the metal vibrate inside its frame.
Darius immediately raised the shotgun and aimed toward the entrance from behind his cabinet barricade, prepared to fire the moment Art somehow forced his way through.
He wasn’t counting on the door holding forever, but every second Art spent attacking it was another second closer to sunrise.
If the clown eventually entered, Darius wanted him crossing the narrow kitchen under direct fire rather than catching him helpless in the open.
Art continued chopping for several minutes before finally stopping.
The door was damaged, but the metal construction and secure lock had prevented the axe from accomplishing much beyond leaving marks and dents.
He stood outside breathing heavily, staring at the obstacle as though considering whether continued brute force was worth the effort.
Eventually, his head tilted slightly to one side.
The anger disappeared from his face as another idea seemed to occur to him.
Art lowered the axe.
He returned it to the black bag.
Then he climbed onto one of the tables, crossed the dining area, and quietly disappeared from the restaurant.
Inside the kitchen, Darius noticed the sudden silence almost immediately.
He kept the shotgun trained toward the door for several minutes, refusing to relax simply because the pounding had stopped.
Art wasn’t the type to lose interest after one failed attempt, especially after the traps had already humiliated him.
If anything, the silence was more unsettling than the repeated axe strikes because it meant the clown had stopped relying on brute force and started thinking.
What are you planning now?
Another minute passed without a sound.
Then another.
Darius studied every part of the kitchen he could see from behind the barricade.
The metal door was secure, the walls looked solid, and the room had no ordinary windows large enough for Art to climb through.
Unless the clown suddenly developed the ability to pass through walls, there shouldn’t have been an easy way inside.
That thought should have reassured him, yet the longer the silence continued, the stronger the uneasy feeling in his chest became.
Then a faint scraping noise came from above.
Darius froze.
Scrape…
Something shifted across the ceiling.
His eyes slowly moved upward, and realization hit him hard enough to make his stomach sink.
“Son of a bitch…” Darius tightened both hands around the shotgun and stared at the ceiling.
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