The 4th floor hallway is dark and silent. The exit lights are not working, for some reason, and the reassuring sound of the cooling fans in the machine room is non- reassuringly missing. The only light streams in through the small windows in the double firedoors leading to the stairwell.
Slowly, hesitantly, Troll's head creeps into view in one of the small windows, blocking out most of the light. Troll says, "Hey. It's dark in there."
Carefully, Brad peeks through the other window. He calls out, "Dave? Daaaaaaave?"
They wait, in vain, for an answer.
"What the hell happened to all the lights?" Brad asks.
"Typical slasher-flick technique number four-hundred sixty-five. It's supposed to build the tension." Troll replies.
Brad thinks about it for a moment and says, "Works."
Slowly, the two trollish heads sink down out of sight of the windows.
Brad's voice is heard, "Now what?"
"Well, I guess we go in."
"SAY WHAT?!"
"We gotta find out what happened to Dave."
"FUCK THAT! I vote we list Dave as Missing-and-Probably-Dismembered-in-Action, and get on with it."
There is a long, slow pause.
Brad complains, "Man! A slasher flick! I knew this was gonna happen! I just KNEW it! Why us?! Why can't we ever get stuck in a nice, mindless bikini-bimbo movie? Why do WE get to fuck around with Jack The Ripper?"
There is another, even longer pause.
"Look, we have got to go in and make sure that this really is a slasher flick, after all."
"FUCK! YOU! PERIOD! Anyway, these doors are always locked. How are we supposed to get in there?"
The doorknob rattles for a moment, turns, and clicks. The doors open, a fraction of an inch.
"Oh, fuck me!" Brad laments. "Why don't you just put up a sign saying 'Walk-In Decapitations: Three Headsmen, No Waiting'?"
Troll says, "Well?"
"You first!"
"YOU'RE the Knight Defender."
"YOU'RE the one that wants to go in there, Pal! Go ahead! I'll defend your back."
The door opens further. Troll creeps through, grumbling something about excommunications. He creeps carefully over to the machine room door. He tries looking through the crack in the door, but can't see anything in the inky darkness. A few minutes later, Brad joins him. They converse in whispers:
Troll: You know, this could all be some kind of slapstick comedy. Dave could be in there with a couple of cream pies, just waiting for us to turn up.
Brad: Sure! Or maybe it's a murder mystery! wouldn't that be cool? Dave would still be dead, but the rest of us wouldn't be at risk, until the big final scene where we confront the killer and fight it out. I could deal with that!
Troll: Yeah! A murder mystery! There you go! Dave will have been killed in some ingenious, subtle way, and we'll have to find the clues!
Brad: All the same, I think we ought to go in ready for anything.
Troll: Right.
They stand up, brace themselves, and crash through the doors bellowing "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAAAAAAAA!" at the tops of their lungs.
Troll says, "OW! HEY! Watch where you're going, ya fucking ox!"
"Well stay the hell out of my way, you idiot!"
"How am I supposed to stay out of your way, when I can't see a goddamned thing! Turn on the lights so we can start gathering clues!"
"Well, hang on. I'll look for the switch."
The lights flash on. Troll and Brad are standing in the middle of the room, amongst the shattered remains of the mainframes. They look around, wildly. Troll stops, and points at the floor.
Brad and Troll look at each other for a long moment. Simultaneously, they say, "Slasher flick."
"SAME AS YOU!" yells Troll.
Brad punches him.