Grand Naivety, Broken

In the rush to find the address in thirty minutes or less, Frank forgot two things: his hat and his common sense.

He pulled up to the house -- mansion, more like -- and stepped out of his little hatchback, which didn't even seem worthy of being in the presence of such an enormous, Victorian-age house. He sighed, straightened his work shirt, and pulled the two pizza warms from the back seat, holding them against his chest and walking slowly up the cobblestone pathway, being unnecessarily careful to avoid tripping on loose stones (for it was impeccably set).

After ringing the doorbell a total of twice, Frank decided to open the door and call out for someone. And, seeing as he not only lost his common sense, but also his sense of self-preservation, he crept inside, listening to some vague rustling in another room, frowning when it became more pronounced and added stomping to the mix. The noise escalated suddenly, reaching its crescendo, before falling away completely.

The eerie silence sent shivers down Frank’s spine. He bit his lip, straining to hear any sign of life, when an abrupt shuffling began from the corridor next to the door. Frank, against all of his horror movie training, back away from it, further into the house, holding the pizza warmers to his chest tightly.

There was a sudden, loud bang sounded and Frank felt an immense, centered pressure in his chest that knocked him to the ground like he had been punched. His breath left him and his strength seemed to go with it. He couldn’t breath, and sharp pains flew through his chest when he tried to inhale. Blood started gathering in his mouth and he turned his head slowly to spit it out, hoping vainly that it would aid in his breathing. He wheezed out a breathy ‘fuck’ and dropped the pizzas from his chest.

A dark figure stood in the corridor now, what looked to be some kind shotgun, although, when Frank looked down at his chest, he couldn’t see a puncture wound. The figure was reasonably tall, at least 6 foot, and was wearing formal clothes. It was merely a silhouette, but to Frank, it might as well have been Satan himself.

In a fast chain of events, another figure appeared behind Satan, twisted his neck until a sickly crack was heard, and let the body fall to the ground, revealing that he was in fact very mortal. The gun -- although still doubtfully so -- skidded across the tile to land a few feet in front of the dead man.

The body still standing stepped over the corpse, stalking towards Frank quietly. Frank tried to sit up in order to scuttle away, but a flash of pain stole away his vision, and then, abruptly, his consciousness.

Notes

It's in your hands now, viewers. If I good feedback on the Pilot of this episodic story, then you'll get the rest of the season.
(By the way, fell asleep on my keyboard while writing this.)
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-Stitches