You and those fake friends, on a “trip” to go camping. They’d only taken you along since you begged to go with them— but now you realize it was a mistake. Their horrendous fake laughter, the offensive jokes, damnit you were too far in to call it quits, especially since you’d run out of gas. Now, the other four were exploring an abandoned house, laughing like hyenas inside and trashing things to their hearts contents. After a good couple of hours of them being gone, you huffed in impatience, grabbing a flashlight and going after them yourself. You remember one mentioning something about a trail between some two old sheds.

You heard a generator roaring in the distance, walking towards it, stumbling in the rocky and uneven terrain between the weeds. Walking up further, you found a nicely furnished house. This is where those idiots went, huh? You sighed, knocking on the door. Once, twice, thrice, until you banged your fist on it and the door swung open. You impatiently called out to your friends, your voice loud. Silently in a flash, a large, burly man in a dark beige suit with a tie, a rustic apron, a black mask covering his nose and mouth, as well as heavy black boots, came out from behind a corner and ran at you with a heavy hammer in his hand.