Disclaimer: I'd give my right arm to own Cabin in the Woods, but it's not mine. Kevin isn't even mine.
"They had all the monsters, and on the list was just 'Kevin.' Kevin was a very sweet-looking person who looked like he might work at a Best Buy, he just wandered down the hall and then off-screen in horrible fashion exsanguinated someone."
-Joss Whedon, The Cabin in the Woods Official Visual Companion
He was pretty tired of this place.
How long he had been there, he didn't know for sure. He only knew it had been quite a while since he'd seen anything besides sterile white squares, moving up, down, and all around every few seconds. He'd stare out of his square sometimes, catch a glimpse of a werewolf or a unicorn or a very toothy ballerina, none of which scared him. Why should he be frightened of anything, when he was supposed to be feared by others?
Truth be told, he had never scared easily. He was able to take the strangest situations in stride, including this one. The only problem he really had with being holed up in a cell was that it was so boring.
Boring. The word people had used to describe him, before he was brought here. Oh, yeah, Kevin. He's a really nice guy, he's just kinda…boring.
His trademark serene smile fractured a little bit at the memories. He could deal with one person saying it. A few people, no problem. A small group of people, maybe. But somewhere along the line he snapped, and set about changing their opinion of him. Often with knives, sometimes with guns, but his favorite weapons were his bare hands.
There was nothing boring about violence, was there?
Which brought him back to his original thought. This place needed livening up, and surely a little violence couldn't hurt. The creatures around him were born to create it, after all.
With any luck, the people who had taken him would let him out for another job. He'd been released only once, a few years ago, to murder five innocent college students whose cars had all broken down simultaneously and forced them to hitchhike. He had killed four of them, and the only survivor, a sweet brunette named Avery, had fled for her life, believing she'd killed him. He always wondered what happened to her.
All of a sudden, he noticed something that took him out of his thoughts. The squares around him—including his own—were moving slower and slower, coming to a complete stop. Then all of them moved upwards, and he found himself looking at a set of elevator doors.
Was he needed?
The doors opened. He stepped in, the doors shut, and he was going up once again. This time, he wasn't alone; the ballerina with too many teeth was with him, as was the Hell Lord with his little orb, a pair of bloodstained doctors, and a variety of other creatures he couldn't quite give a name to. For some strange reason, nobody was breaking into violence; everyone seemed as calm as he felt. It was as though there was some unspoken agreement between them that they would not harm each other, that there was someone else out there who needed to be torn apart more than anything in this elevator.
He was a little disappointed.
Finally, after a few minutes, the elevator slowed down and stopped, having reached its destination. There was a silence, almost an awkward one.
In a single moment, all hell broke loose. Blood, limbs, and internal organs flew across the room and sprayed him as the creatures, kept captive for so long, celebrated their freedom with gore and destruction. Various black-clad military officials tried to fend them off with guns, but they were no match against the supernatural.
Through all the insanity, it occurred to him that he was free. He was free. No more square cell, no more waiting around for the controllers to give him something to do. He was getting out of here.
He emerged from the elevator and walked down a hallway, enjoying every step of his freedom. He glanced down and saw an injured soldier on the ground, victim of a stab wound. Kevin's deceptively sweet smile was back in place as he thought of how to get in on all this new excitement.
A little violence couldn't hurt.