Just back from that indie horror movie in the Italian Alps, Jen reluctantly agreed to do a last-minute torture-porn video shoot. Now, hanging helplessly by her wrists in the basement of some long-abandoned East L.A. factory, Jen was beginning to suspect her manager had an ulterior motive for getting her to accept this torture-porn video shoot. She’d heard darkly whispered rumors that some of her manager’s previous female stars had vanished mysteriously as their adult film popularity started to wane, but frankly, until now, she’d never given the rumors that much thought.

Glancing over her should for what felt like the hundredth time, Jen felt an icy cold sense of utter fear squeezing her heart in a vise like grip. There could be no mistaking that face concealing steel mask. It didn’t seem possible, but thanks to her conniving manager she'd ended up a guest of the world’s most infamous serial killer, the Ghost!

All the stories she’d heard made him seem more a myth than a reality. That he’d butchered hundreds, if not thousands of beautiful women, all who seemingly disappeared without a trace, their slow and obscenely tortuous deaths preserved as some of the most brutal and highly sought-after snuff films known to exist.

She could still hear her manager’s pathetic sales pitch, “It’s just another fetish video Jen. Kinky sex with a little torture porn, nothing you haven’t done a hundred times. Besides, since you’re such a well-known torture porn actress, he’s offered to pay fourteen hundred an hour with a six-hour minimum.” With a chilling sense of impending doom, Jen realized that it seemed highly unlikely that she would survive long enough to cash that paycheck.

Of course, it helped that next to her dream of dying within the Iron Maiden, being a serial killer’s victim, especially when the serial killer turns out to be the Ghost, has also been Jen’s favorite fantasies...