9:30 AM. The clock chimes. Lights dim. Alarms stop. A voice echoes:
“RED ALERT. The Hammer Killer has entered the court. Exit doors are locked. Proceed to the sixth-floor courtroom. Avoid direct encounters.”
The cloaked figure fastens a nametag: “Hammer Killer.” Then charges for the staircase. Side doors slam shut. Hallways sealed. Participants race to elevators. None of them work. They pivot. Dash to the stairwell. Lyly and Karen stumble. Tickets in hand. They crash into Tom. All three collapse. Lyly hisses in pain.
“Watch where you’re going, old man! That hurt!”
Tom staggers upright, wild-eyed. His words are chaotic. His voice trembles.
“MOVE! THE HAMMER - HE'S COMING! HE’S GOING TO KILL US!”
Lyly and Karen exchange a look. Lyly clenches her jaw.
“What the hell is wrong with him?”
Then, footsteps sound closer to them. And the hammer’s rhythm. Each beat draws closer. Karen’s body locks. She edges toward Lyly and whispers.
“Do you hear that? Something is knocking.”
“Yeah. And it’s getting closer.” Lyly nods. Her eyes fix below.
A flicker of black cloth appears at the stair railing. Her stomach lurches. She remembers the warning: Avoid the Hammer Killer. Now, she knows. It’s him. Karen opens her mouth to speak, but Lyly silences her with a firm hand. Carefully, she helps Karen stand. Below them, the cloaked figure steps into view, hammer in hand, the mask obscuring his face. The rhythmic strikes against the wall halt abruptly. He has entered the hallway on the first floor. His gaze sweeps the vacant corridor, annoyance flickering in his posture. Then, his eyes lift upward. In that instant, he locks eyes with Karen. His demeanor shifts from idle discontent to a surging wave of excitement. Karen jerks backward in horror, nearly stumbling. Lyly notices her friend’s sudden reaction and immediately asks,
"What’s wrong?"
"He - he looked at me."
"Why did you look down?"Lyly groans, exasperated.
"I - I just wanted to see where he was…"
"Damn it!"
Lyly barely has time to react before a new sound erupts beneath them. Boots pounding against the floor. A rapid succession of footsteps. Rushing. Charging. Lyly steps toward the railing, glancing down. Her worst fear is confirmed. The Hammer Killer is advancing. She grabs Karen’s wrist, her voice urgent.
"RUN! NOW!"
Karen snaps to her senses, fumbling before finally bolting alongside her friend. Behind them, the killer does not hesitate to hound its prey. Their frantic screams echo upward - reaching Pearl and Tate above them. Tate halts instantly, recognizing the danger unfolding below. He snatches Pearl’s arm, commanding firmly,
"It’s not safe down there. We need to get to the sixth floor!"
Pearl barely processes his words before he pulls her forward, both sprinting upward. They burst through the doors of the grand auditorium on the fifth floor, barely pausing. The main staircase stops here, but two smaller staircases lead to the courtroom above. Tate wastes no time. He flings the courtroom doors open, ushering Pearl inside, then instructs,
"Stay here. I’m going to check on the others."
"That’s not fair! I want to go too!"
"Pearl!"
His tone is firm, stopping her in her tracks. She flinches slightly, shoulders curling inward. Realizing he may have been too harsh, he softens his voice.
"Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Please, stay inside. It’s not safe outside. I’ll be back soon."
Pearl initially resists. She doesn’t want him to face danger alone, but his determined stare crumbles her defiance. She nods reluctantly, agreeing to stay behind. As the door clicks shut, Tate rushes toward the stairwell. Descending two steps, he spots Lyly and Karen. One frantic, one near tears, scrambling upward. He moves fast, reaching out to steady them, his voice urgent.
"What happened?"
Both women are ashen, shaken, their bodies trembling. Karen barely catches her breath, unable to form words. Lyly points downward, her eyes brimming with panic.
"The Hammer Killer! He’s below."
Tate shifts his gaze downward, but the corridor is empty. No signs of movement. No sign of Tom either.
"Where’s Tom? He didn’t run with you?"*
Lyly’s expression twists in disdain. She recalls their earlier collision, the frustration of crashing into him at the stairs, and her anger resurfaces.
"That bastard slammed into us on the second floor, running like a maniac. Didn’t he come to the courtroom?"
"No."
Tate ushers them inside the courtroom with Pearl, then rushes back down to investigate. At the fourth floor, Tom hides beneath a chair, his bulky frame struggling to fit into the limited space. A thin layer of sweat coats his face, his shirt soaked at the back. His palms rub against his pants, desperate to wipe away the constant beads of sweat forming. His heart pounds in his chest, his breath shaky and uneven. He always thought his heart condition was under control. He assumed the treatment had solved everything. Nevertheless, his habits never changed. Drink alcohol. Excessive eating. Lack of exercise. His body continued accumulating fat, his blood pressure rising dangerously. The neglect had aggravated his condition. And now, he was paying the price. If his heart is pushed too fast, he will be on the verge of death. Outside, the rhythmic stomp of boots echoes through the hallway, accompanied by the steady, ominous pounding of a hammer against the walls. Each deliberate impact syncs with Tom’s labored breathing. Huddled tightly in his hiding spot, he clamps a hand over his mouth, suppressing every shaky gasp, convinced that even the faintest breath might alert the monster outside. Inhale. Exhale. Sweat beads slide down his forehead, dripping onto the cold floor. The hammer continues its relentless pattern. Suddenly, it stops. His breathing halts in tandem. Instinctively, he presses himself even lower, shrinking his presence to nothing. Beyond the door, the Hammer Killer tilts his head slightly, his mask casting a sinister shadow over his features. He glances toward the room where Tom is hiding, a knowing grin stretching across his lips. And then, he chuckles, the eerie laughter slicing through the silence like a blade.
Inside, panic overtakes Tom. His body quakes uncontrollably, his wide eyes paralyzed in horror. A cold sweat drenches his back, his limbs losing their grip on reason. Desperate, he snatches an inhaler from his pocket, bringing it to his lips, sucking in rapid, desperate breaths. If he doesn’t calm himself now, his heart will betray him. Meanwhile, on the fourth floor, Tate strides down the hallway, searching for Tom, when a feral scream erupts from the floor below. Through the window, he spots the cloaked figure, standing just outside a room. A silent alarm flares in his mind. His pulse quickens.
"That has to be where Tom is. But how do I get the killer away from there?"
The Hammer Killer ceases laughing. His smirk warps into a manic snarl. He lunges at the door, gripping the handle, ready to tear it open. Until a deafening crash erupts from the fourth floor, the killer jerks his head upward. A chair slams violently against a window. Through the fractured glass, Tate’s eyes gleam with challenge. The red tint in the killer’s eyes burns brighter. His grip tightens around his hammer, veins bulging against his skin, teeth grinding audibly as he rushes toward his new target.
Inside the room, Tom hears the hurried footsteps outside. The killer is not here anymore. The weight of terror shifts off his chest. Silence replaces the looming dread. His lungs re-expand as he releases a shaky breath. Sweat still cascades down his face, but his heart regains its rhythm. Relief washes over him. His fingers tremble, but he forces himself up, his legs wobbly beneath him. Carefully, he inches toward the door, pressing his fingers against it, peeking through the narrow gap. He pushes the door open and scans the hallway cautiously, ensuring no lingering threats. His gaze locks onto the stairwell at the far end. A rush of joy propels him forward. He can escape. He breaks into a sprint toward the stairs. But his hope dies instantly. Sitting casually at the base of the stairwell, the Hammer Killer grins, tapping his hammer against the steps - waiting. Tom stumbles backward, his previous confidence snapping like brittle glass. Fear surges through him.
Tate bursts into the fifth-floor hallway, something feeling wrong in his gut. He rushes to the window, peering down and shocking that the killer is still on the fourth floor. It is face-to-face with Tom. Alarm surges through his veins. His feet propel him downward quickly. At the staircase, the Hammer Killer steps forward. Tom’s skin turns sickly pale, his movements erratic, his body trembling violently. His voice wavers, desperate bargaining tumbling out in stammers.
“I don’t know you! I have money! I’ll pay you. Don’t kill me! Kill the others instead because they’re trying to kill me too!"
The killer remains unfazed. Cornered against the stair railing, Tom grips it tightly, forcing his legs to work, pushing himself upward. But he is too slow.
The Hammer Killer reacts instantly. He grabs the fabric behind Tom’s neck, yanking him backward with brutal force. Tom crashes onto the cold floor, the impact rattling through his spine. Pain explodes across his back, a scream ripping from his throat.
"AHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS!"
His pleas fall on deaf ears. As he scrambles for escape, a crushing pressure slams onto his leg. The killer’s boot stomps down, trapping him in place. Above him, the masked man looms and his hammer is raised slightly. His voice is low, guttural, menacing.
"I’m going to kill all of you."
86Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBv2Pg9kcWi
86Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB8CbN6IUPR
The killer’s chilling words shatter Tom’s last hope of negotiation. His body loses all strength, his mind plunging into a void, unable to process what’s happening anymore. The hammer rises. It’s about to strike. Tom squeezes his eyes shut, arms shielding his face, his entire being bracing for impact. But, nothing happens. Instead, a heavy thud echoes. Followed by another crash. Tom hesitantly peeks through his arms. What he sees shocks him. In front of him, the killer lies sprawled on the floor, clutching his back in pain, his hammer flung away from his grasp. Standing over him, Tate’s eyes burn with fury. Tate doesn’t waste time. He hoists Tom upright, commanding.
"RUN NOW!"
The killer pushes himself up, staggering for balance. His fingers wrap around his weapon, his breath ragged with rage. He fixates on the two figures sprinting up the stairs, his fury boiling over. They run. Their footsteps hammer against the steps. Tate glances backward, heart pounding. The hammer clangs against the stair railing - the killer is close, only twenty steps behind. But Tom is slowing. Breathless, legs aching, he groans weakly.
"I - I can’t anymore… I need to rest!"*
"Keep moving! Just a little further or you will die!"
Tate tugs him forward, willing him to endure. The killer closes in ten steps away.
"We’re almost in the courtroom!"
Finally, they burst into the fifth-floor auditorium. Pearl watches in a horror scenario. She sees Tate and Tom fleeing, the shadowy figure chasing behind them. She grabs a fire extinguisher, her legs moving before her mind. She rushes forward, swinging the doors open for them to enter. The killer raises his hammer, aiming directly for Tom. In this time, a blast of white mist shoots into his face. Pearl intervenes. The killer staggers, blinded momentarily. Tate gapes at her, frustrated.
"I told you to stay inside!"
"How could I stand by and do nothing? Get inside! NOW!"
He wants to drag her back, but Tom’s dead weight is his priority. He pulls the older man into the courtroom, leaving Pearl alone to handle the situation. She hurls the extinguisher at the killer, then bolts toward the doors. Tate reaches out, shouting,
"Pearl!"
Through the dense smoke, the killer regains his bearings. Though the extinguisher struck him, the rage drowning his mind shields him from pain. His gaze pierces through the fog, locking onto his prey. He lunges forward. Pearl is within arm’s reach. He roars, raising his hammer, every muscle coiled for the final strike. Pearl spots the descending weapon, her mind screaming - MOVE! She pushes off the ground, leaping toward Tate, stretching her arm toward his outstretched hand. Fingertips graze. And then, Tate seizes her wrist, yanking her into his grasp. The hammer narrowly misses, brushing past her hair, sending loose strands fluttering into the air. Tate pulls her close, both collapsing onto the floor. The courtroom doors slam shut.
Outside, the killer screams in pure rage, his hammer pounding violently against the door. The force reverberates through the chamber, rattling the walls, shaking the occupants to their core. Suddenly, A high-voltage surge strikes the killer, forcing him backward in agony. The barriers activate, locking him within a designated perimeter in the middle of the fifth-floor auditorium. A timer appears, counting down - five minutes. He has no choice but to remain still, fury burning in his eyes.
Inside the courtroom, Lyly and Karen help Pearl and Tate sit up, concern evident. Karen asks.
"Are you two okay?"
They nod shakily. Still catching his breath, Tate turns to Pearl, eyebrows furrowed in deep frustration.
"Are you insane? I told you to stay put! You almost got yourself killed!"
Pearl lowers her gaze, apologetic.
"I - I’m sorry…"
She admits her mistake. She had wanted to help but ended up risking everything. Now, she feels the weight of it. Even now, she can still feel the lingering sensation - the hammer slicing through the air near her head. The dread lingers. Nearby, Lyly sneers at Tom, who is still panting excessively, clinging onto his chest. She clicks her tongue, unimpressed.
"The real culprit isn’t even apologizing."
"Hah! I never asked any of you to save me!"
Lyly’s eyes flare with irritation. She turns to Tate and Pearl, firmly advising.
"See! You two, look at this guy! Do not risk your lives for an ungrateful rat like him again!"
"Lyly!" Karen tugs at her sleeve, urging calmness.
Before anyone can retort, a sudden chime echoes through the room. The courtroom shifts. Seats rearrange themselves into a circular formation. A beam of white light descends from the skylight above, illuminating the center. From beneath the floor, a podium rises. The LED screens encasing the chamber activate. A new announcement plays.
"The bus has locked its entrance. Ticket inspection will now commence within the courtroom."
On the screen, the image of the Hammer Killer appears with his angry face. His countdown ticking inside the steel cage. The announcement continues.
"Once ticket verification is complete, any remaining passengers must continue searching for their bus tickets and return to the courtroom. Bus doors will close at 11:30 AM. Now, please place your bus tickets on the central podium."
All five passengers glance at one another hesitantly. No one moves. Then, Tom steps forward, volunteering to go first. Nonetheless, he stops abruptly, peering back at the four younger passengers watching him expectantly. A thought flashes in his mind.
"Wait. If I step up too soon, what if something dangerous happens again? I could die."
His lips curl into a charming smile as he gestures politely to the others.
"You kids helped me a lot. I’ll let you go first. I’ll wait right here."
Suspicion settles in the air. The four exchange doubtful glances. Lyly instantly sees through his act, unimpressed.
"You want someone else to be the test subject. Why don’t you just admit it?"
"Hey, I’m just being generous. Consider it my way of repaying you all."
"Good deeds don’t erase your rotten core. Since you insist, we’ll go first."
Brushing past him, the group steps forward, leaving behind a glare full of disdain. One by one, they place their tickets on the podium. Tate goes first. His ticket vanishes instantly as his name appears on the screen. Next, Pearl, Lyly, and Karen. Their names display as “Completed.” Behind them, Tom sees nothing alarming. Satisfied, he strides forward, shoving past them, placing his ticket down. His name appears. Task completed! The courtroom doors unlock. The next announcement plays:
"*Verification complete. The bus doors are now open. Run to the bus immediately. Avoid direct confrontation with the Hammer Killer.”
Without hesitation, all five passengers dash outside. Leading the charge, Tom, naturally. His heavy body lumbers forward, struggling to keep up with the younger runners. He lags behind without question. Their eyes dart toward the steel cage in the center of the grand hall. Even without looking directly at the killer. The pressure in the air thickens, suffocating under the weight of his fury. Pearl keeps a close watch on the countdown. Her breath catches.
"Thirty seconds left! HE’S ABOUT TO GET OUT!"*
The remaining passengers snap their heads toward the timer. Only 25 seconds now. Tate shouts instinctively.
"RUN!"
86Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4QMGl00Waq
and then Add to home screen.