A/N : I know I've been on hiatus… For centuries…

So, I was watching the movie "Slashers" the other day, & I thought about writing some fanfiction based loosely on the Japanese game show. This should be fun. ;)

Rated M , of course. My lovely Bella & Jasper. I just really can't get enough of my southern god damn vampire.. : |


They told me I was lucky to have survived the obstacle course. Lucky that I wasn't killed, that the hired murderers usually went after cute, little brunettes like myself. They said I should be happier, that I should have shed blood. The truth ; I wasn't happy at all.

Two weeks ago I got a letter in the mail from "The Association of Testing Wits, Life Quality, and Games". Yeah, I had never heard of them either, considering the association was headed by a couple of East Indian men. The letter sealed my fate, kind of like being drafted for the war, telling me that I'd be participating in a game show. There were only brief descriptions of the game; like that it could be fatal, and the big prize was $1 million.

The letter entailed all the requirements that participants must meet, which weren't much, just that you had to be 19 years of age, had to be free of any serious disease, and that you had to be willing. That last one had me thinking and laughing. Willing?

I was flown, along with five other young adults, to an isolated location in the West of Canada. We weren't told of where we were, how long the game show would last, or if we could have any contact with the outside world. Although, what with the heavy, wire fencing and the security cameras all over the grounds, I assumed we couldn't leave without permission. No one had any luggage; the association told us we'd be provided with what we'd need during our stay.

All six of us were propped in front of a camera ten minutes after we arrive, were asked questions about our hometowns, what we expected out of the game, and other such unnecessary probes. After the interview, we were all told to survive. Six pairs of eyes wandered about the room full of television producers and camera crews to try and find out what the whole thing was about. We never got an answer though, and we were set out in a warehouse. A loud voice came across the intercom speaker; "The last person alive wins the money. There's no rules. Stay alive, using any means."

As soon as the lights came on, we all ran. We didn't know where we were running, or what we were running from. We just ran.

The game show host handed over the cheesy, humongous check as reporters and bystanders bombarded me with questions. I just looked down at my feet and walked down the middle of the crowd. I was pushed and shoved from side to side as people tried to get next to me. I just wasn't in the mood to do any real talking with the masses after the whole game experience.

The plane that was supposed to take me home was delayed, and my one and only passenger was the harrowing lame sidekick of the show host. He kept eyeing me as we sat four chairs apart in the tiny airport lobby.

I learned, hours into the game, that there were five people in the game that were set out to kill us as soon as we were placed in the warehouse. I tried to stick with everyone else, but people kept straying off, and I was left with just one other guy who seemed about my age, or maybe just one of those 19 year olds who look 24.

I sat down on a barrel and tried to catch my breath from running through what seemed as an endless room of flashing, blinking lights. I'd only seen one of the killers so far, and he seemed to be pretty fixed on killing the redhead chick that had made fun of him. Jacob, as I'd learned was the man keeping me company, sat beside me, slowly, almost as though he was trying to be romantic? "So, Bella, how'd you end up agreeing to this whole game show thing, anyways?" Silly question, I thought, why were any of us here? "The money?" He asked, looking at me with such a sideways shine on his eyes that I felt like slapping him.

"No, not the money. I have enough of that." There he went again with that glance of his. "I'm here for the thrill." I cocked my eyebrows at that when he looked at me. "Thrill?" Jacob put his arm around me as he laughed whole heartedly. "You, little Miss 'Pretty Clothes, Perfect Eyebrows', are seeking out thrill in this game?" I glanced up at him through my eyelashes, smiled, then pushed him off the barrel.

"Fuck you." I stormed off to a secluded room with fake trees and big boulders scattered around and pulled off my t-shirt that was soaked from over 8 hours of sweat and a little blood. Left in a red tank top, I laid down on the floor and prayed that no one would interrupt me. My body was weary and my eyes grew heavy as I listened to the hum of the air conditioner.

Half an hour later, I was jolted awake by someone yanking on the end of my ponytail, dragging me along with them. Oh god, I thought, I'm seriously about to die. I'd thought, for the past fourteen days, that I'd be one of those strong, independent girls on survival game shows that would show up all the men. Guess I was wrong.

To my great surprise, whoever had been pulling me stopped in a black room, no lights whatsoever. I heard a faint click as I was pushed against the wall. "Stand up" the man's low, rough voice almost made me moan. What? Moan? I was about to be slaughtered and all I could think about was getting laid.

My legs were weak, and thinking about my imminent death made me want to at least put up a fight with this guy. "Did you hear me? Stand the fuck up." Even though his words rang loud and clear, his voice stayed level, sounding like melting honey and cigarettes. I revelled in the sound of his heavy breathing while I tried to keep my mind out of the gutter for at least a minute or two.

I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me upwards, as his other hand flicked against my face, a sharp echo resonating through the room. "Don't try to avoid the inevitable, darlin'. It's going to happen no matter how much you struggle." His hot breath was against my ear in a second and I could feel his hands running over the length of my body. So this is how I'm going to have to play it…

I moaned aloud when he cupped my breast, shocking the two of us. "Damn." He shivered when I ground my hips against him and I was surprised that his resolve was so sketchy. "Miss Swan, I don't really think it's a good move for you to try and pursue a relationship with your murderer."

My body tingled when I thought of how I could feel his gaze burning all over my body, how his voice was the husky, low of a southern cowboy. My head fell back on the chair as my body went through the motions of meeting my dominant outside of the game. He'd walk up to me, look me over, then pick me up and throw me over his shoulder.

I rubbed my thighs together to try and rid myself of the tension building between my legs with no such luck. The only thing I was rewarded with was a wink from the lame guy, a stern look from the security personnel, and a pair of flushed red cheeks for myself.

When he uttered the word 'murderer', I think my panties got just a little bit more wet. I knew I shouldn't be thinking of pleasure at a time like this, I should try and fight! It's just… my body was so weak, and my need seemed like the only thing to matter. The hairs on my neck stood on end when my male companion slowly ripped down the middle of my shirt. Perhaps I wasn't here to be killed? But, that thought ran out of my head as soon as I felt the blade of a knife being traced along my jugular.

"You're extremely attractive, you know. I'm surprised the men didn't try to fuck you earlier than they did." My jaw dropped when he mentioned how Jacob had tried to get after me before. I coughed and tried to hide myself with my arm, it alarmed me that the whole time, they'd been watching our every move. "Don't hide yourself, darlin'." And how could he see me? I couldn't see a foot in front of my face.

The next thing that went through my mind was that this whole game show thing had been a hoax meant to be a prank or something. I mean, I could hear screams off in the distance, outside this tiny room. That didn't prove much, though.

"Don't worry about unnecessary things, Bella. It'll be over soon." My throat squeezed tight as he brought up his plan about killing me soon. "How-" My voice was scratchy and I had to cough to clear it. "How'd you know… That I was thinking.. Can you see me?" His raw, throaty laugh mesmerized me as he told me what I should've assumed : "Ever heard of night vision goggles, darlin'?"

"Oh." Then his comment about my being pretty came back to me. "And, thanks." I smiled, hoping that he'd see it and it might influence him to let me live. "For?" "For thinking I'm pretty." I blushed and looked down at the ground, a habit I'd grown accustomed to whenever someone gave me attention. "You're much more than pretty, darlin'."

The lame guy had crawled across two chairs, I'm assuming he's been trying to hit on me. I've just been far too caught up in my thoughts to even pay attention to my surroundings. The bagel that I ate just two minutes ago was threatening to make it's appearance once again as I registered how the lame guy was looking at me. I mean, have some sort of decency, please?

"Miss Swan, I believe it is, that chair doesn't look very comfy…" I felt my stomach heave as I realized what his words meant. I picked up my bag and marched over to where the lame guy was seated. He probably thought I was going to take him up on his offer of sitting with him, by the look on his face. "Listen, whatever your name is, I'm not interested. You smell bad, you've still got acne at the age of 25, you live with your mother, and you just wouldn't be able to handle someone like me. So, fuck off. I don't want to sleep with you."

I think he cried; he looked like he was going to cry. With my chin held high, I marched over to the other side of the lobby and took a seat next to a very good looking businessman.

He lifted my chin with the tip of his knife. "You're so shy when we're alone. Yet, you're so very confident in public. You are a strange one, Bella." He laughed again, and I pushed myself against him, earning a sharp ting in my throat from the knife. "Shit" I cussed under my breath as I brought my hand up to wipe away any blood, but not getting there before him as he rubbed my throat to try and ease the tension in me. "I would say 'I'm sorry', but…" I heard a grin in his voice.

I remembered then that the man I was pushing myself against would kill me soon, without thinking once. I shuddered and stepped back, hitting the wall. His hands moved down my stomach as he reached for the zipper on my jeans. I don't know if it was an incredibly wrong move to make, but I pressed my hands up against his bare chest and ran my hands down across his taut and toned upper body. He stopped his actions and reached down by his side for the knife that I'd become close with. "Now now, darlin'. I'm calling the shots."

He tore my hands off his chest, pinning them down by my sides. I could feel the bulge in his pants growing by the proximity of our crotches and did nothing to help eliminate his problem by whimpering and breathing against his skin. He moaned a deep, guttural moan and grabbed both my hands in his one, raising them above my head.

The boarding call sounded once again as I ran from the ladies room across the airport. The lame guy was tapping his shoe impatiently as I ran to the one and only security screen. As soon as I'd passed through the metal detector, I ran out the door to the nine stairs that brought me onboard the fifteen passenger plane.

The lame guy made a wise choice and sat as far from me as possible in the tiny plane. I put my seat back and plugged in some headphones; my only reprise from the chatter of the stewardess' and the attention of the lame guy.

With only one hand, he unzipped my pants in record time. I didn't have time to register him unclasping my bra, or how he'd managed to reach in behind me to do it. I felt the cool breeze of the AC on my overheated skin before I felt the heat pouring out of his mouth in every breath he took.

"Bella means beauty, right?" He laughed before his mouth descended onto my breast, sucking and biting. I gasped, rubbing my panty clad crotch against his denim. His growl let me know that the move was prohibited and that I was just begging to be hurt. His hand was roaming around my waist, pulling on the waistband of my only remaining piece of clothing, then kneading the skin above my ass.

His breathing picked up again as I heard another zipper, presumably his, in the echo of the still dark room. I wondered for a second if he'd ever bring us into the light and let me see him. But, then again, it might be best if he doesn't; my standards will never be met by anyone else.

The rustling of his jeans as he pulled them past his thighs sent tingles through me, going straight for my sopping core. His grunt passed through me and I felt the overbearing need to touch his face. It seemed that his need was becoming too great to ignore anymore, it was too great to slow down and punish me. He ripped the side of my boy shorts and inhaled deeply.

He released his hold on my wrists, letting my arms fall to my sides as the blood rushed back into my fingertips. He gripped my hip as his other hand rubbed up my thigh to the cleft between my legs. His fingers delved into my pussy, spreading my juices and heat along the inside of my legs and up my stomach. "So fucking wet…" His voice coated the whole situation in intensity.

His hand left my pussy and I whimpered again, acknowledging my need with every sound I made. Seconds later, I felt the gentle probing of his cock against my lower abdomen. We both moaned in unison at the contact of our skin. He guided himself down along my body, from my stomach to my aching core. He just barely touched the head of his cock to my pussy when the lights flew on in the room.

"Miss Bella Swan, you're the only one left alive. You've won."

I looked up at the man in front of me, shocked at his pure beauty. His tanned, toned body was long and his well muscled arms and torso proved my theory of the southern cowboy. He had a stunning face, with golden grey eyes and a hard jaw line. Perfect nose, angles, everything. A few blonde curls fell down into his face, accenting his daringly mischievous eyebrows.

I glanced down, only to blush when I saw his hard, persistent cock pressing against his stomach. "That means you, darlin'." In his hand was my ripped tank top, along with the knife that'd almost killed me minutes ago.

The plane ride had been torture; literally torture. But, I'd somehow managed to live through the many dirty looks from the lame guy, the comments about my clothing, and the odd looks regarding the check that took up the seat next to me.

My car was waiting in the airport parking lot as soon as I grabbed my bags and check. The lame guy looked me over before he ran back into the airport to retrieve a form for me to fill out when I got home. I rolled my eyes as he bit his lip and pouted; as if I'd take pity on him. I rolled the window up as soon as his hand was clear of it and sped onto the highway. I stopped along the way to pick up some dinner, or lunch, or breakfast… I really had no idea as to what hour it was.

Chinese food would do the trick to curing what seemed to be a hangover from the many fruity drinks from the plane trip. I picked up the cartons as the guy working at the counter winked at me, obviously noticing how little my ripped shirt was covering. I waved it off, paid for the food, then climbed back into my Volkswagen.

My home seemed like some sort of heaven as I pulled into the long driveway of my luxurious 'mansion on the hill'. The gate pickets were plied, although that didn't surprise me. I often walked home after drinking and tried to crawl under the gate.

Putting my car in park, I stretched my limbs and grabbed the food and papers in the passenger's seat. It'd been weeks since I could truly relax, and I was looking forward to some well deserved sleep, food, and a shower. I locked the bug, pulled out the house keys and proceeded in my trip up the walkway. For once, I really looked around at my home. It was really too much. Maybe I should downsize…

I unlocked the front door and threw the keys onto the table under the coat rack. I inhaled deeply, revelling in the sense of being home again. I strolled through the kitchen and dropped off the food before making a pit stop in the washroom. As I was about to go change into some shorts and a different bra, I noticed the boots in my porch. Cowboy boots. I looked into my living room and saw his feet propped up on the coffee table. He stood, bowing slightly.

"My name's Jasper…"

O: t7y\bjsjjdfufcsawef77bguhw

That was a little message from my cat.

Tell me what ya think. ;)