Episode 9 — "Blood for Blood"
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Cold Open
The rain hadn't stopped for three days. Ravenwood's streets were rivers, drains spitting water like drowning lungs. Police sirens blended into the storm, so constant they felt like part of the weather now.
In a crumbling apartment across town, a man named Bobby Kincaid (32) sat on the floor in front of his TV, drunk, half-conscious, watching static snow hiss across the screen. Empty whiskey bottles littered the carpet.
He didn't hear the door creak open.
Didn't see the shadow that slid into the room.
The static shifted. Bobby blinked. The screen cleared just enough for a face to take shape. White porcelain. Crack down the cheek.
He sat forward, breath catching. "The fuck…?"
From the hallway came a low click.
Bobby turned.
The last thing he saw was a gloved hand holding a nail gun.
The thunk thunk thunk echoed under the storm as nails drove into his skull, pinning him against the wall like a bug in a collection box.
His TV went black.
The killer's voice hissed through the static like it lived in the wires:
"Jason Hale. Blood calls to blood."
Cut to black.
Title Card: THE STALKER.
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Act I — Jason's Resolve
Jason Hale hadn't spoken in hours. He sat at the cafeteria table with Elena and Ryan, untouched food in front of him, cigarette burning down to ash between his fingers. His eyes were dead calm, but the twitch in his jaw betrayed the storm beneath.
Ryan fidgeted, voice raw. "Man, I keep… I keep seeing it. Knox. His throat… the blood. I can't get it out of my fucking head."
Elena shot him a look. "Ryan—"
"I'm serious! We're not built for this shit. Jason—he—he's like steel or some psycho genius or whatever, but me? I'm fucking breaking here." Ryan's voice cracked. "Why him? Why Knox? Why not me?"
Jason finally spoke, voice flat, quiet. "Because Knox mattered. Killing you would've just been noise."
Ryan stared, offended, but Jason didn't blink.
Elena slammed her palm on the table. "Enough! This isn't helping. We're playing into the killer's game. Every death—Amanda, Nate, Gordon, Knox—every single one of them is to fuck with Jason. To isolate him. To make him the villain."
Jason's cigarette burned out between his fingers. He ground it into the table. "Then I'll stop being his villain."
Elena frowned. "What?"
Jason leaned forward, eyes sharp, voice like broken glass. "I'll be his fucking nightmare. You don't hunt me anymore—I hunt you."
Ryan muttered, "That's not healthy, man."
Jason ignored him. He stood, grabbed his duffel, slung it over his shoulder. "It's time I stop reacting. I'm done waiting for texts. I make the next move."
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Act II — Setting the Trap
Jason broke into the old Ravenwood auto shop, condemned for asbestos but still standing like a broken rib. Perfect place for a trap.
He and Elena hauled in gear from his duffel: duct tape, nails, gasoline, a crowbar, two busted phones he'd gutted for parts. Jason's mind was a machine now, sharp, humming, relentless.
"We leave the door cracked," Jason explained. "Make it look like I'm hiding here. I'll send him a message from Knox's old number. Make him think I've got evidence. He won't resist."
Elena looked uneasy. "Jason, this is insane."
Jason smirked without humor. "So's he."
Ryan lingered by the door, jittery. "What if this backfires? What if he's already ten steps ahead?"
Jason snapped back, "He always is. But if I sit on my ass, more people die. I'd rather go down swinging."
Elena met Jason's eyes, her own burning. "Then we do it together. No more you-alone bullshit."
Jason nodded once. For the first time, he felt like maybe he wasn't carrying this alone.
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Act III — The Bait
Night fell hard. Rain hammered the shop roof, water dripping through cracks. Jason crouched behind the old counter, crowbar in one hand, knife in the other. Elena hid behind the tool racks, camera ready, recording everything. Ryan stayed by the side door, trembling but determined.
Jason's burner phone buzzed. He'd sent the bait ten minutes ago. The reply came.
"GOOD BOY. STAY."
Jason's pulse quickened. "He's coming."
The shop door creaked. A shadow slipped inside, silent, deliberate.
Jason's grip tightened on the crowbar.
The porcelain mask glowed faintly in the dark, crack glinting under the rainlight. The figure moved slow, savoring the moment, head tilting like it was already laughing.
Jason lunged from behind the counter, swinging the crowbar. It connected with a sickening crack. The figure stumbled, slammed against the wall.
Jason roared, swinging again, but the killer vanished into the dark, fast as smoke.
"Jason!" Elena shouted.
From above came the sound of chains rattling. Jason looked up.
The killer had set a counter-trap.
An engine block suspended by rusted chains swung down, smashing into the counter where Jason had stood seconds before. Wood splintered, metal shrieked. Jason dove aside, barely rolling clear.
Ryan screamed. "FUCK, HE'S PLAYING YOU!"
Jason scrambled up, eyes wild. "Where is he?!"
From the shadows, the killer's laugh echoed. Low. Mocking.
Jason swung his crowbar at empty air, teeth clenched. "SHOW YOURSELF!"
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Act IV — Blood for Blood
The killer moved like a ghost, circling, never giving Jason a full target. Every few seconds, another trap sprung:
• A shelf toppled, sending tools clattering like shrapnel.
• A chain snapped, hooks whipping through the air.
• A fire ignited in a gas can, flames licking up the wall.
Jason fought through it all, eyes bloodshot, crowbar swinging. He didn't care if he hit flesh or shadow—he just wanted blood.
Finally, he saw it. The mask glinting in the firelight.
Jason lunged, tackled the figure to the ground, fists hammering. The mask cracked under the blows, porcelain chipping, blood spraying from beneath. Jason snarled, spitting curses with every hit.
"You think you're the hunter?! You think you can fucking break me?!"
Elena screamed, "Jason, stop!"
Jason ripped the mask off—
And froze.
It wasn't the killer. It was Bobby Kincaid. Already dead, nails hammered into his skull, body rigged like a puppet.
Jason stumbled back, hands shaking, covered in blood. "No… no, no, no…"
The laugh echoed again, louder this time, filling the burning shop.
"GOOD BOY. LOOK WHAT YOU DID."
Jason dropped the crowbar, horror flooding him. The killer hadn't just dodged the trap. He'd turned it into a fucking stage play.
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Act V — Fire and Fury
The flames spread fast. The shop was going up like kindling. Elena grabbed Jason's arm, dragging him toward the door. Ryan bolted ahead, coughing in the smoke.
Jason resisted for a moment, staring at his bloodied hands, at the corpse he'd just brutalized without even realizing. "He made me a killer…"
Elena shouted in his face, eyes blazing. "NO, JASON! HE WANTS YOU TO BELIEVE THAT! YOU'RE NOT HIM!"
Jason blinked, snapped back. He grabbed her hand, pulled her through the fire, out into the rain.
They collapsed on the pavement, coughing, soaked, gasping. Behind them, the auto shop collapsed in flames.
Jason lay on his back, staring at the storm, chest heaving. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with shaking hands.
A video.
He pressed play.
The feed showed the three of them—Jason, Elena, and Ryan—crawling out of the burning shop. The footage was live. The killer was filming them.
The camera zoomed in on Jason's face, bloodied, broken, maskless rage staring back.
Then the video cut to text:
"YOU'RE READY NOW. FINAL EXAM SOON."
Jason hurled the phone into the street, screaming at the sky, fists pounding the wet pavement. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"
Elena pulled him into her arms, holding him tight even as he thrashed. "We'll end him, Jason. Together."
Ryan sat in the rain, head in his hands, whispering over and over: "We're fucked… we're so fucked…"
The camera pulls back, showing the killer standing on a rooftop across the street, mask gleaming in the lightning, head tilted. Watching. Waiting.