The kidnapping happened a few days ago. No one really bothered to check, but a few people did notice something was off. A few families made police reports about missing people, but was all dull in comparison as to what was happening in reality.
It seemed as though those people went missing, but it was unclear how and when they disappeared, and the details of the disappearance was murky as no one could give a clear explanation of how their loved ones were suddenly wiped off the face of the Earth.
Of course the police had to investigate. A place where multiple disappearances had happened was worth checking, and apparently reporters thought so too.
The small suburban area was suddenly swarming with journalists hoping to get a good scoop, as well as bystanders just wanting to be part of the chaos.
of course there was chaos. The reporters were shoving microphones and cameras everywhere no one could go anywhere without bumping into one gadget or another. The onlookers did not help the matter whatsoever.
They all also had phones out, snapping pictures and taking videos. With all the noise, it would be at least a few hours before the police could even start to investigate.
What so many pairs of eyes did not see was a minivan driving noiselessly out of sight.
The grey van, although slight in size, hid many secrets of malice within it. However, the designers clearly thought nothing of putting the logo "FunHouse" in the tiny corner of the van in blood-red writing.
The van soon after reached a slope on a hill and gradually got to the top, where it disappeared into the ground. It literally sank cleanly underground, leaving no evidence that the van even existed at all.
2 hours later, a groggy headed man came to, shook his head slightly and adjusted to his surroundings. He gave a little jolt. He did not remember being here, and was obviously unfamiliar with the place. He glanced at the wine-red sofa he was splayed on, and to his right slept a woman of about 30 still knocked out.
He took in everything in sight. It was a luxurious place really, to say the least. The bar at the far end was shining with a glass counter, paired with tall smooth wooden chairs, and the shelf was stocked with liquor of the best quality and some were even century old wine, made in Italy, no less.
The sofa he sat on was only one of three placed in a sideways-C position, with a round table in the center. And even that looked expensive.
The floor was carpeted in a dark red, as was majority of the room, even the walls. The room itself was lit by multiple torches along the walls and a large gold candelabra above the sofa set. There were a few couches beside the sofa, and even a TV set.
The only thing unflattering about the room that didn't quite match its grandeur was the door, and even that had a shiny, silver handle.
The door.
It was an escape route. He slowly got up from the sofa, and walked over the bodies in an attempt to get to the door, but discovered it was locked.
He looked around in a panic, then counted the number of people, apparently still sleeping. He counted 12 people in total.
What now?
Just then an alarm went off, jerking everyone else awake.
