Rosegate's Nightmare. || Proxy Jeff the killer remake.

Spade's Heart Casino (Prologue.)

Water poured down onto the roof of the Spade's Heart Casino on an especially dark night in the middle class town of Rosegate, the repetitive drips and drops of rain all drowned out by the casino's natural noise, people lined the outside walls in suits, letting the rain drench their clothes being the least of their worries after most of the gamblers outside had lost most of their lives inside.

Thankfully enough for those invested enough the walls blocked out the disgusting smell of loss outside. One man in particular inside the building was more careless than most.

Clark couldn't stop himself from throwing those cheap chips onto the green in front of him, and every single drop of alcohol that he let go down his dry throat made the money attached to each chip seem all the less important.

He had gone there to bet his sorrows away, hopefully fill a hole in his heart with the thrill of a casino, but the more alcohol they pushed on him made it harder and harder to fill the hole, leading to him throwing away more and more money without any concern.

Clark wasn't the best gambler there was, he never even had the thought to look the people he was betting against in the eye to see how confident they were, nor would he face the devil at the other end of the table syphoning away his soul and dollar.

He never looked anyone at the table in the eye, Clark only ever heard when people showed up and saw below the shoulders.

Clark had heard recent news of the 'Rosegate Ghoul's' string of murders, they targeted seemingly at random and left every crime scene disgustingly painted in blood. The killer had a well known name, but everyone knew him as just, the Rosegate Ghoul.

A boogieman haunting Rosegate. A torturous Grim reaper.

Anyone with any sense of danger was forced to check their house up and down just to make sure they wouldn't wake up with their mutilated face on a newspaper, but nobody who had been killed had every truly caught him.

He stood up, realizing he needed to use the restroom after taking a small sip from one of the drinks near him.

Feeling a sharp pain sting through his head, he clenched onto his temple while walking, the sudden rush of pain causing a ringing in his ears and a numbness in the rest of his body.

His legs turned to jelly, and as he stumbled into the bathroom, his legs could no longer support his weight. He hit the ground, and the ringing in his ears slowly faded, as did all light in the room.

Clark shot up a long time later, feeling a damp puddle had formed on the side of his face. He glanced around the bathroom and realized he had passed out in a pool of his of vomit.

He gagged at the realization, grabbing a paper towel and aggressively attempting to get the bile off of his face, as he did so he turned to the door, about to drop the paper and bolt, but he was completely frozen seeing a familiar boogieman.

A completely still figure stood in the doorway, wearing a filthy hoodie that clearly used to be white, it was covered in dark and bright red stains, some of them glistening in the light, below all of the blood was the same symbol drawn all over the hoodie.

Clark, unable to move was forced to just stare at the man, looking up at his face and saw what looked like a wooden mask painted white, with one small hole for his left eye, and greasy, long black hair falling over the mask on the left side of his face, only smaller strands on the right side that barely passed his shoulders.

The figure seemed to refuse to move, and the complete lack of any expression in any form made the situation all the scarier, Clark's hands started shaking, and he dropped the towel, only then did he realize that the figure was holding a knife in his right hand.

The man slowly titled his head to the side like a curious dog, and upon seemingly being able to sense his fear the figure started giggling in a high pitch giddiness, almost like he was unable to contain the anticipation of their encounter.

Clark took multiple steps back, his back hitting a stall as his legs began to give out again. With each step Clark took backwards, the man took two forward.

The man was now inches away from him, their faces only separated by a few inches of air and the wood over The Reapers mug.

It only took a few hours for someone to find Clark's body in each of the dumpsters behind the casino.