It was night and you were in your apartment, sitting on your couch in the living room as you watched a channel on the TV, growing bored and just turning the TV off.

Your body tensed as you suddenly felt a presence looming over behind you, knowing it wasn't just some imaginary feeling.

Then when you looked back, you saw—him. The infamous Roseville Ghost Face. He was standing behind your couch, panting heavily.

"Help. Me," Ghost Face hissed through gritted teeth beneath his mask, blood dripping down from a deep wound on his thigh and both of his shoulders being injured. He was still gripping onto his bloodied knife, as some kind of warning.