She hates office parties. Hates them. It's already enough that she has to spend over a third of each work day with these people, but now she's also expected to spend after hours time with them, too?

But Gold had insisted that they all attend this blasted costume party this year. He sent out one of those emails two weeks ago — the type of email they knew better than to argue with. It had said that this year's Halloween office party would double as their annual team building event and that meant it was mandatory. No exceptions, he said.

It struck Regina as odd, particularly because Gold isn't a party person at all, and certainly not interested in anything as frivolous as Halloween. But Gold is the kind of boss who would put them through something embarrassing for their annual team buildings event. Last year they had been told to show up to work with a swim suit, hiking boots, a parka and a razor. And Gold had seemingly enjoyed each humiliating activity they went through that terrible day in the woods.

So, fine, he found a way to outdo himself. Now they will all be in costume for their annual torture night, hanging around the office after hours participating in god knows what activities like some sort of middle school dance gone wrong.

The worst of it is that he will be there.

Robin. She's been doing such a good job of ignoring him since the last company event. He just… he gets under her skin, vexes her. He's a typical new salesman, a smooth talker who thinks he can get away with anyone and leave her, the account manager, to figure out how his ridiculous promises of rush orders and discounts will possibly work.

So she was destined to dislike him, from the start. And it has nothing to do with their little… incident.

It has nothing to do with the fact he's seen a side of her she tries so desperately to hide from her coworkers.

Nothing at all.

Because the truth of it is, Robin and Regina did not meet for the first time at work. No, they met during one of Regina's… "vacations". She's so tense at work, so proper, so put together. But it's a ruse, cloaking her real nature, her real passions and desires and impulses.

And they have to come out somehow, don't they? So every now and then, she goes to the bars out in the city, right downtown. They aren't the cleverly tucked away venues with their delicious food and discounted liquor. No, she goes straight for the touristy bars and plays an out of town visitor looking for a party. Or, rather, looking for a man to share her hotel room with.

She has never had any problems finding a desirable suitor for the night. Some of the men are pretty, but idiots. She enjoys the flirting, the rush she gets when she makes a new connection, the anticipation of things to come. She likes feeling reckless, throwing caution to the wind and going home with a near stranger.

But just over a year ago, while at one of those bars, she met a man who was new in town. She had been instantly attracted based on looks alone — bright blue eyes, a deep dimpled smile, and that "it's been a few days since I shaved" ruggedness she finds herself really going for…

And then he opened his mouth. A smooth voice with a gorgeous accent, and well, she was already doomed but that sealed the deal.

She thinks that she had noticed him first that night, but he was the one who approached her first, asking what he could get her to drink. He complimented her drink choice while he sipped on a pint of Harp, and then he complimented her outfit (oh she dresses to play on these days, cleavage so careful arranged, clothing hugging tight at her ass). She had worn burgundy that day, a tight scoopneck dress that clung tightly to her hips and barely covered her ass. But the nice british stranger had called it lovely, said that it was a gorgeous color on her. And she almost believed that he hadn't seen her as a piece of meat that night.

He had talked to her over drinks, shared stories of his family, listened as she opened up about things she'd never tell a person she would see again.

She took comfort in the fact he would always be a stranger to her, and confessed her anxieties, her fears, her troubled past, all of it.

They talked til the bar shut down. And then she suggested he come back to the hotel she had booked for the night, and he did. He stripped her bare and worshipped her body, did things to her that no man has been able to do, made her come so hard her throat was hoarse from crying out.

It had been a beautiful, near perfect, shockingly honest night. She has a habit of making up a secret life for this tourist she plays, a new identity to wear for the night. But the only thing she had lied about that night was her job, where she lived, and her phone number.

She certainly hadn't lied in those few hours before she passed out, when the buzz of alcohol and pull of sleep had her forgetting all pretense and she admitted that had been the best sex of her life.

No, that wasn't a lie, try as she might to convince herself it was.

The next morning she had told herself it didn't matter how absurdly vulnerable and smitten she appeared to him, because she would never see or hear from him again.

But three weeks later, he was standing across the office from her, being introduced by Gold as the new salesman. God, he gave her such a cocky smile as he wandered up to her and stuck his hand out to shake hers.

"Regina, is it?" Robin asks, his eyes dazzling, knowing he has her trapped, "You know, you remind me of a Regina I once knew."

"Really?" She tries to keep the flush of embarrassment from rising to her skin, but the telltale heat creeps up her neck and stings her cheeks. Shit. She follows it up with, "I'm afraid I'm not in touch with all the Reginas of the world, I believe the chances of me knowing her would be very slight indeed."

"Mm, of course. Especially since she lives in Sacramento, I believe, and was only here on vacation. At least, that's what she told me. But then again, she told me lots of things that may not be true. I only mention her because, well, forgive me if I have a bit of an aversion to your name. She hurt me terribly, you see."

"Well if you're finished with your little high school banter, I'd like to introduce Mr. Locksley to the rest of our office, Miss Mills." Gold says shortly. But he looks amused, he does, as if he caught on, as if he were reading their minds.

When she replays this moment she tells herself that Gold knew nothing, and it was only her paranoia. She also tells herself the pain she so vividly remembers in Robin's eyes wasn't truly there. That it was all an act, or perhaps a trick played by the fluorescent lighting. Because Robin Locksley was not hurt by her. He's teased her and tormented her over their night together for a year, you don't do that if someone hurt you.

So she's had to suffer that man, that infuriating salesman who knows every inch of her body and how to make it work for him, for far too many hours each day.

It's so unfair that she should have to suffer him for another social event. And he's going to be his witty, adorable, thoughtful, charming self, which just about has her contemplating running out of the building and never looking back.

But she needs this job. She's paid well, and Gold, asshole that he is, has somewhat taken her under his wing. He's grooming her, he's said so before. He sees her as vice president material, and maybe that means in time, when Gold retires…

So she put on an oversized button down shirt and skinny, tight black slacks, made her hair nice and straight, and popped a little stage prop cigarette into her purse. Boom. Mia from Pulp Fiction.

He is wearing a pinstripe suit, with his hair slicked back, a stupid fedora over it anyway. He's dressed as some 1920s mobster, even has some flashy, ridiculous gold plated cell phone he's put in his breast pocket.

God, he's annoying.

And handsome.

Annoyingly handsome.

She wanders over to the punch bowl. If she's got to be in the same space with her coworkers after hours, she better get good and drunk.

But then he's wandering over to her, and fuck, she needs to find an exit strategy, because this is not happening. Not when her hormones are racing, when she's thinking about how he looks naked again. Not when she's planning on getting good and drunk, which he knows can loosen her tongue, bring out honest words she keeps bottled inside. Oh god, no, he's right there

"And who are you supposed to be?" he asks, filling a plastic cup with punch.

Regina sighs, and takes her cigarette out of her clutch, holding it in her hands and rolling her eyes at him.

"Ah, Pulp Fiction," Robin says, taking a sip. "You're sexier than Uma on her best day, though."

"Please," she rolls her eyes, "you're being inappropriate. This is the office. We are at work. "

"We are at a party. With alcohol," Robin reminds, holding up his cup of spiked punch, "I think I can get away with telling you how gorgeous I find you even after you broke my heart."

She scoffs. "You always say that. I'm not sure what gave you the impression that I would ever fall for your crap." And she can't help it so she whispers, "It was one night Robin, it didn't mean anything."

And fuck him for sounding so sincere when he shakes his head and argues, "No, it meant something. To both of us. I know the real you, Regina."

"Yes, the version of me that lives in Sacramento and works in real estate, sure. That's the real me. Please Robin, I fed you lies. It was all just a game to me."

"Now Regina, you know that's not true," he soothes, and fuck him and his absurd confidence, he's an excellent salesman because of it. "You may have lied about some of the frivolous details, but I know you, Regina. And you know me. You're not the only one who shared things that night." She can't help it, she shivers, thinking of what he told her about Marian, of his father (the bastard), of his own fears of being a good father…. Is it possible? Was that not total shit to make him sound like a good guy, like a man she'd want to sleep with?

"Regina. Why are you fighting this?"

Because she doesn't know how to trust and love.

But he doesn't need to know that. She is just thinking of a clever retort when Mal catches her eye, a hand on her hip, her head tilted and eyes widened. She's asking if she needs rescuing, she knows. And thank god, because she does.

" Excuse me, Robin, Mallory needs me," she says stiffly, walking away.

He lets her go, moves out of her way even. She's never trapped with him, but she always somehow… feels uneasy.

She walks over to Mal, links arms with her as they scurry away from Robin.

"I don't know why you don't just fuck him and be done with it," Mal groans.

"Mal!" she scolds. "I told you before, I don't… I don't want to do that."

"Oh please, you both eyefuck the shit out of one another all the damn time. I know he annoys you, but you want it bad." Mal shoots her a devilish smile and adds, "And let's face it, he's hot, I can't say I haven't thought about it myself at one point. So go get yours, he's starving for you."

She rolls her eyes at that and mutters something about not being interested in the slightest, but Mal knows that's a lie, doesn't she?

Emma interrupts them before they can finish the argument. She looks cute, in a leather jacket with a little sheriff's badge, cowboy hat on her head.

"I admit it, I was dreading this event, but at least there's booze," she says, taking a deep swig from the bottle of beer in her hand. "Of course, that's already proving to be a problem. Killian's already wrecked."

Regina and Mal share a knowing glance before laughing along with Emma. Killian never could resist a good open bar. He's also never been Regina's favorite, but before she can remind Emma of that fact, Belle rushes up to them, wrapping her arms around Emma from behind, giggling.

"Did you guys see there's a cauldron with apples we can bob for?" Belle asks, excitedly. "This is absolutely ridiculous, but fun! We never have fun at work anymore."

Belle's drunk, Regina realizes right away. She's usually more… reserved. Downright quiet and nerdy, if she's being honest. Before Regina can even think of something to say in response, Belle is practically skipping off (hopefully to find Mary Margaret, because it seems she has stolen her personality).

Emma, Mal and Regina trade confused glances. But then Mal shrugs and comments, "Well, that is quite a sexy costume for a work event."

It truly is, she's in black tights and a scoop neck leotard, every curve on display. If not for the little kitten ears, you'd never know she was supposed to be a cat.

Oh.

Regina snorts. "True...but did you see Ruby's? It makes Belle look like she's dressed as a nun."

Mal snorts and pauses for a moment, scanning the room until her eyes lock with Ruby. Regina follows her gaze. She's in this little Red Riding Hood costume, ass barely concealed in the frilly skirt of her shirt dress and short red cape. Her cleavage is out, peeking out of the ruffled white peasant top, pushed up and out by the corset she's wearing over that little shirt.

Ruby is talking to Jefferson now, touching him in a way that makes her look...quite pathetic. But then she sees Robin walking over to Ruby and she has to look away. She can't — she doesn't want to look at that. It's… inappropriate to be flirting at the workplace.

Oh god, is she rubbing his arm?

Ruby's... escapades… are well known. Jefferson, Graham, that creepy IT guy... they've all at least claimed to have had a night with her.

So maybe it's Robin's turn.

Stop that, Regina. Look away.

Mal must not catch on to her moment of jealousy, because she just continues with the conversation. "Well that outfit is par for the course for Rubes. I didn't see it coming from Belle. I figured she'd be looking over expense reports for this entire party."

Emma shakes her head. "Belle loves Halloween. Remember last year when she tried to get us all to go to that haunted house? I swear to god we all broke her heart when no one went. But this time… she seems… well, weird as shit." (Emma has no censor, and Regina both loves and hates that about her.)

"Maybe she just got laid," Regina offers, and well, it seems to fit. She's dressed like someone who just had a sexual reawakening.

"Fuck, I hope so. That girl needs her pipes cleaned out badly. Although frankly… don't we all?"

"Speak for yourself," Emma says, with a sly smile. "My pipes are just fine. And as soon as I get out of this after hours work related shit, I'm due for another cleaning."

" Ugh , speaking of that," Mal motions over to Mary Margaret, dressed in a white gown, her halo slightly askew. David is close behind her, in a toga outfit. "you don't suppose the little angel got herself a taste of greek tonight, do ya?"

"Mallory!" Regina admonishes, fully picking up both implications of the word greek— god, no way would Mary Margaret do that. "He's married."

"And she's… Mary Margaret." Emma reminds. "They probably came in late because they were both dreading this thing as much as much as we were."

"Fine. When are we starting the torture, anyway?" Mal asks, "I mean, look at all this work that went into the party. Top to bottom decorations, open bar, for fucks sake a fog machine… what sort of team building hell are we in store for?"

"Team building?" Regina spins around to find Gold looking… genuinely confused. "There's no team building event. It's just a party."

Regina groans. "Then why did you send that email saying we all had to attend and that this would count as our annual team building event?"

But Gold just looks… skeptical. "Now I need to know what you are on about. Because corporate emailed me and said we had won a Halloween party for outstanding performance. I said it wasn't necessary, but they insisted."

"No," Regina says, perplexed. "There was an email from you, it said it was mandatory, that we all had to be here, it was—"

There's a snap of something that sounds like lightning, and maybe it is, because the power shoots out immediately after.

She hears the muffled screams and protests of her coworkers, someone screaming shit about cell phone service down (god they are annoying) as she feels around in the dark to get to her office, to get to her flashlight.

Minutes pass, and it's so fucking dark she can't make heads or tails out of what direction she's walking in. God the lights need to be back on. Maybe if the curtains could be drawn back, so they had some light from the street and moon...

Gold finds a flashlight first, orders for everyone to stay calm as he waves it slowly around the room..

She sees it first, the odd, contorted silhouette of a giant black cat against the wall. "That wasn't there before," she whispers to Gold, "What is that?"

He waves the flashlight over the object, more slowly now.

It's not until the flashlight hits her face that she recognizes her. Belle.

There's blood coming out of her mouth, a perfect stream of red falling from her lips and dropping onto the floor below.

She hears the screams of her coworkers, but Regina does not scream. She… studies. Carefully. Perhaps is a coping mechanism but she remains eerily calm as she wonders what type of person may do this to the sweet, sexy librarian type in the office.

Someone didn't just kill her. They… made it hurt.

Her body is badly mutilated, spine contorted and leg bones bent and rearranged so she looks like a perfect silhouette of an arching black cat. There is blood and bone sticking out from her black leotard as she hangs from the ceiling from some sort of crude rope, flush against the wall… and something is dripping onto her, Gold notices it too, as he slowly moves he light up to see the source of the liquid.

Written above Belle's corpse, in what appears to be blood, is a very simple:

1 DOWN, 12 TO GO.

She feels Mal grab her hand then, hears her whisper in her ear, "There are only 13 full time employees of this branch… right?

Right.

A/N: This is a slasher movie spoof, full of all the tropes & cliches I can muster. :)