It was early in the morning, almost too early, but the ever-wise Ted could not allow himself to fall asleep after what had transpired only a few hours ago. A rumbling sound, from the basement even-- a moaning of such anger and sadness that could not go unchecked and yet Ted could not traverse into the deep. As you see, right before the moaning had begun the lights had turned against him in an almost brutish uprising against man, never to work again; or at least until the electricity were to come back on.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZT-BOOOM.

The evil lightning, the bringer of terror. It was to blame for the lights, but not for the moaning, the moaning was yet to be identified and Ted could not rest until he had figured it out.

"Maybe I'll go down."

"AAAAAAAAAARNNNGGGGG."

"...later!"

The basement continued its torturous grumble and Ted's helplessness only grew more and more, but then he had an idea! A brilliant and well crafted idea which will stand the test of time. Why not go down IN THE DARK?! The idea crops into his head and like every other wonderful idea, it is hard to forget. Collecting himself he begins to take the long walk down, the creaks in the steps getting louder and louder with every step he takes, until finally he reaches the bottom of the pit.

"Echo.... echo... echo... IS ANYONE HERE? Hello?! I have a gun! Do you know who I am? I'm not... I'm not someone to be... uh... messed... with... THIS JOKE ISN'T FUNNY."

"NNNNNNGGGGG."

His eyes peer into the dark, trying to pierce the pure blackness and see what is creating such sounds, but he then realizes something which would have helped to know before he had attempted this trek. Basements are fucking creepy. He works himself back upstairs in what some would call a speedy fashion and decides to work on a new plan - the moaning helped in this decision. 

"Okay, what can I do? What. can. I. do? Oh! I know!"

Pulling out his gun he runs back down the steps and begins to unload his pistol in every which direction, twirling into a few spider webs and what appeared to be rat droppings did not stop him from his onslaught. The bullets lending extra light he finally realizes what had happened and a cold chill grows over him.

"Haha. Forgot all about you, little buddy. Woops."

A now dead man slumps from a chair, only being held up from some tape and a rope which was fashioned quite brilliantly by someone who clearly was in the boy scouts for multiple years. Ted smiles at his wonderful knotting work and unties the man, dragging his body over to a pile of newspaper that was laid out on the floor.

"Wasn't supposed to kill you until tomorrow, ah well. I'll explain everything, surely they'll understand. This must happen all the time."

Ted takes care of the man and the walks back upstairs as the lights flicker back on, he only has a moment to smile before the darkness arrives yet again, and then he hears it... another moan, this time from the attic.

"Fuck."