Anon held the camera while descending the stairs. They’d just left the dive bell and entered through the Landfall Hotel’s side entrance. While descending, they heard a creak. Curiously, they cleaned their camera lens before getting down. They aimed their camera up to find a dilapidated liquor bar, dusty and dimly lit. They were about to turn around when something clicked open and—

BZZZZZTTTTT!!

Anon crumpled to the floor, letting go of the camera and convulsing. Then, a distorted laughter.

”Great energy, chat.” The voice spoke. Anon recognized it: Ewan Conan. Anon felt a weight on their legs; he was kneeling over them.

”Caught you off-guard, didn’t I? And there’s no one here to save you. I thought you Spööktubers knew better than to film alone?”