(We open on a dark, stormy night, shortly after the kids' Halloween party ends. No, really, it's actually very dark and raining cats and dogs. Cut to the inside of the MonkeeMobile. Mike drives the car while Micky sits next to him.)

Mike: Now I know why the girls didn't want to go out. I swear it wasn't this bad earlier!

Micky: *leans forward, squinting through the windshield* No, it wasn't this bad! Man, how can you see anything, Mike? I can't see a darn thing!

Mike: I really can't see anythin', Mick. Visibility is nothin'. Maybe we ought to stop somewhere until we get outta this rain. We should call the girls and tell them we're gonna be late, too.

Micky: Yeah, we'd better stop. We don't wanna get into a wreck. *points* Hey, there's a house over there. Maybe they'll let us in for a while.

Mike: At the very least, we can sit in their driveway until this lets up.

(Mike pulls into the driveway of a very large, very old house. It looks about the same age as the Montgomery House, but larger and with more gothic-type work.)

Mike: Lovely. Looks like the settin' of one of those gothic romance novels Em's into.

Micky: I was gonna say this house looks like it belongs in a Bela Lugosi movie.

Mike: (Frowns as a light goes on in one window) As amazin' as it may seem, I think someone lives in that old house.

Micky: *gulps* As long as it isn't ghosts.

Mike: I doubt ghosts can turn lights on.

Micky: *nervous chuckle* Well, I guess it isn't ghosts, then.

Mike: Maybe it's a real witch.

Micky: Maybe...

(Another light goes on. We see two figures in the window.)

Mike: Looks like someone's home.

Micky: *squints* A pair of someone's at that. Well, we might as well head up so they don't think we're loitering and call the cops on us.

Mike: Yeah. Good point. If nothing else, maybe they know where we can stop and get a hot cup of coffee around here that's open late.

Micky: And coffee sounds REALLY good right about now.

*The guys run up to the front door. Micky rings the doorbell.*

Mike: They don't seem to be listenin'. (Mike knocks on the door) Is anybody home?

Micky: *shivers* Is it me, or is it feeling colder?

Mike: It's from bein' out in the rain. We're both gettin' soaked. (Hollers) Is anyone home?

Micky: *calls out* HELLO!? PLEASE, ANYONE HOME?

Mike: (At the top of his lungs) IS ANYONE THERE? WE'RE COLD N' WET AND CATCHIN' PNEUMONIA OUT HERE!

*Suddenly, the door creaks wide open.*

Micky: Well, that's service!

Mike: (Peers in) Looks empty. There ain't no one around.

Micky: How'd the door open, then? *peeks in, then takes a step inside* Hello?

Mike: Yeah, that's a good question. (They step into a dim room lit only by lamps. It's filled with large, heavy antique furnature and heavy old velvet drapes and delicate old antique knick-knacks.)

*The door swings closed behind them on its own.*

Micky: *jumps* Okay, maybe this was a bad idea!

Mike: (Steps back) It ain't so bad, Mick. (Points to a fire roaring in a huge old marble fireplace) Look, there's a fire.

Micky: *wraps his arms around himself* Okay, maybe...but why haven't we been greeted yet?

Mike: Maybe they're still upstairs. Might have been (grins) you know.

Micky: *eyebrows raise* Uh, yeah... *Looks down; there's a puddle at his feet* Oh man, I'm dripping all over their floor! :P

Mike: Let's dry off by that fire. Maybe they'll finish by then.

Micky: *nods* Yeah. *follows Mike over to the fireplace*

Mike: (Leans his hands over it, rubbing them) Ahh, this feels good.

Micky: *leans his hands over it* It does feel good.

Mike: Yeah, this feels much better. (He leans against the wall)

*Micky runs his fingers through his matted curls, then shakes his head.*

(Mike doesn't see the lever he accidentally leans against. As he leans against the lever and tries to dodge the water from Micky's hair, a trap door opens under him...and he falls in! The trap door closes as soon as he falls.)

Micky: *still fussing with his hair* Man, I'm soaked! How about you, Mike? *Looks up* Mike? *Looks around* Hey, Mike? *eyes widen* Mike?! *Yells* MICHAEL! *dashes out to the foyer again* I hope he just really needed to find the bathroom. *Calls out* Mike?! Hey, Mike! *pushes a door open and finds the bathroom* Empty. Oh shit! *Wanders down the hallway, arms wrapped around himself again* Michael? Hello, anyone?

*He opens a couple doors and peeks inside, but can't find Mike.*

Micky: Mike, this isn't funny. If this is just to get back at me, I swear I'll never do another scare again! *yells* MICHAEL! Mike! I'm scared!

(We see a long, tall shadow coming down the staircase near the main entranceway, carrying a flickering light.)

Micky: *leans against a nearby wall, trying to calm himself* Okay, freaking out won't help anything. Come on, Micky, get a grip. *glances down the hall and sees the flickering light* Um, hello?

(A tall, blond older woman in a long red gown comes down the stairs, carrying a flickering candle in an antique brass candleholder.)

Micky: *gulps* Excuse me, miss?

*Micky starts back toward the stairs.*

Stella: (The blond turns her face to Micky, grinning) Well hello there, Micky. Don't you recognize me?

Micky: *eyes widen* Oh God...

Stella: Yes, I can see you do. (She puts the candle down) I'm sorry about the lack of light. Our electricity went out. This storm is a pain.

Micky: *backs up* You...you did something with Mike!

Stella: I'm saving him for later. My lover wanted a chat with him. He wasn't happy about how he defeated him the first time.

Micky: Yeah, and I'm not happy with what you did to us before!

Stella: Oh, but we have all NEW tricks this time!

Micky: *backs up again* Just stay away from me!

Stella: Why don't we go into the kitchen and have a bite?

Micky: I'm not falling for THAT again! Even though I am a little hungry...no!

Stella: If you're hungry, you're hungry. I really do have a kitchen with real food. I could at least make you some coffee.

Micky: Why should I believe you? You suckered me in and used me before.

Stella: Didn't you just say you were hungry?

Micky: Yes...

Stella: Well, then. You can have something to eat in my kitchen. I won't get near you until after you eat.

Micky: But if I DON'T eat, you won't get near me at all.

Stella: (Laughs) You're so funny! So full of life. (Runs her finger down his cheek) That's why I wanted you. You're so young...

Micky: *pulls away* Don't TOUCH me!

Stella: (Takes her hand away) I forgot myself. (She stands) I'm going to get something to eat. If you want to stay here, alone in the dark living room, that's on you. (She blows out all the candles, leaving the room in pitch darkness, and heads out the door)

Micky: No, wait! *tries to run after her, but in the darkness, runs into the wall* Ow... *staggers out the door*

(Cut to another dimly-lit room. While the appliances are new, the furniture is as old as the rest of the house. There's the same cauldron we saw in the other house bubbling on another large fireplace, this one made of brick.)

Stella: (She's pouring some coffee into two cups) Care for some, Micky?

Micky: *rubs his shoulder from hitting the wall* Yes, but you take a sip first.

Stella: Very well. (She takes a sip from each cup) See? Nothing happened. (Hands Micky the cup) You're worrying over nothing.

Micky: Okay. *nods* Thank you. *takes a sip* Man, that's good.

Stella: My own brew.

(Stella sips hers, too...but Micky doesn't see the small smirk she hides behind the rim.)

Micky: It's very good! *drinks more* Feels good after getting soaked out in the rain, too. *drains the cup* Can I have another?

Stella: Of course. (She gives him more...making sure to add a little bit of a whitish powder to it before she hands it to him) Here you go.

Micky: Thanks. *takes a long sip; then sighs* Oh, by the way, we kinda dripped all over your carpet downstairs.

Stella: That's all right. I needed to have that carpet cleaned, anyway. (Smiles) Want more?

Micky: Yeah, thanks. *shivers* Man, I'm still cold, though.

Stella: Oh, I can warm you up! (She rubs his arms) This is a technique I learned when I was living in the Carpathian Mountains as a young...well, many years ago.

Micky: I don't know...uh, wow...that feels good...

(She keeps rubbing him, her hands moving up to his shoulders.)

Stella: There, now doesn't that feel better?

Micky: *sighs* Yeah, except my shoulder where I hit the wall.

Stella: I can help you with that. (She massauges his shoulder gently)

Micky: Gaaahhh...oh, that feels better...

Stella: (Continues her massage) You had a lot of stress there, Micky.

Micky: Yeah. We've had a lot going on lately.

Stella: (She continues rubbing Micky's shoulders) Tell me about it.

Micky: Well, we just started filming our movie, and we've had some devil problems recently... *sighs* That feels so good...

Stella: (Her fingers move down to his chest) You're making a movie? How exciting!

Micky: It's all right. I mean, it's kinda fun, I'm just not so sure it's the kind of moving we SHOULD be making. It's pretty much just a hodge podge of stuff.

Stella: What kind of movie SHOULD you be making? (She rubs his chest more)

Micky: *moans a little* Something more, uh...what was I talking about?

Stella: Your movie. (Her hands go further down)

Micky: Oh, yeah. *frowns* What about it?

Stella: You called it a hodge podge. What did you want it to be?

Micky: A story with a plot would've been nice.

Stella: How can you have a story with no plot? (She continues kneading her fingers in that spot)

Micky: *moans again* Easy. We don't even have a story. Ooooohhhh...

Stella: You've had such a hard time. (She gently lifts his head to face her) Why don't we go upstairs and really get your muscles loose?

Micky: I, uhhh...

Stella: My bed is very, very warm.

Micky: Warm?

Stella: VERY warm.

Micky: Okaaay...

Stella: I can give you more coffee.

Micky: Mmmm...coffee...

Stella: (Gently tugs Micky to his feet) I knew you'd like that.

Micky: *lets her lead him* Yeahhh...

(Cut to another dark room that looks more-or-less like the living room. Mike lands on an old velvet settee with a soft "oomph." )

Mike: Oof! (He manages to get on one elbow and look around) Where am I? (He calls out) Micky? Mick? Hey man, where are you?

(Mike gets to his feet as he hears laughter.)

Mike: Mick? Is that you?

*A match is struck and lights the candles of a candelabra.*

Mike: (Whirls around) Who's there? Mick?

Voice: I am terribly sorry about the dark. These old houses tend to lose power easily in a storm.

Mike: (Frowns) Damn, I know that voice...and I didn't like it.

*A torch is lit, which reveals the owner of the voice: Belavarg.*

Belavarg: Greetings, White Knight.

Mike: (Growls) Belavarg. Where's Micky?

Belavarg: Micky remains at the fireplace. For how long, I am not sure.

Mike: Take me back to him, or I'll go back myself.

Belavarg: I shall do so, but I wish to have a chat with you first. In the meanwhile, I'm sure that Stella is quite capable of keeping him company.

Mike: That's what I'm afraid of.

Belavarg: I wish for a rematch. I feel that I did not recognize the level of competitor I had.

Mike: (Nods) Very well.

(Mike makes his sword appear.)

Belavarg: *his sword appears; swishes it* Let us begin.

(We follow Mike and Belavarg as they move up and down the room.)

Mike: (As he thrusts) Hey, you're good. I think you're better than last time.

Belavarg: I have been practicing. I've been looking forward to this day, this contest.

Mike: Can't say I feel the same, Bela. I was hopin' we'd seen the last of you two.

Belavarg: *thrusts* Very seldom do I meet someone with the skills you possess. I often find myself an easy win.

Mike: (Defends himself) They were kinda inherited.

Belavarg: I see. *thrusts* What brings you out on such a night?

Mike: Comin' back from a Halloween party. (Dodges the thrust and makes one of his own)

Belavarg: *defends himself* Ah, yes, I am familiar with Halloween.

Mike: I'm surprised you and your chick ain't partyin' yourselves. (He thrusts harder)

Belavarg: *smirks, defending* Oh, but we are! *thrusts*

Mike: What do you mean?

Belavarg: Well, here I am, dueling with you. Stella MUST have found your friend by now.

Mike: (Growls) She ain't partyin' with HIM. (He lunges harder at Belavarg, finally disarming him) Ha!

Belavarg: *growls* You win again. This, I cannot accept! I DO NOT lose in this manner!

Mike: Yeah, well, get used to it, pal.

Belavarg: I'm afraid now, I must cheat.

Mike: How? I won! You lost! Deal with it!

*Belavarg reveals a handful of yellow powder and blows it at Mike.*

Mike: (Coughs) What in the hell was that? (After a moment, he starts weaving side to side) Man, I feel dizzy... (he falls onto his knees) My head feels weird...

Belavarg: I would call that cheating, no?

Mike: (He drops the sword) I feel so weak...scared...

Belavarg: *walks over to Mike and places his hands on his shoulders* But your energy is so strong!

Mike: (Whimpers and tries to move back) No...

Belavarg: Yes, Knight. Your energy is mine, and Stella will have your friend's again. *laughs*

Mike: (Presses against the wall) No...never! Let us alone!

Belavarg: Too late! >:)

Mike: (His eyes widen as Belavarg reaches for him and his sword) NO!

Belavarg: Yes!

(Mike swings the sword wildly in pure fear, accidentally cutting Belavarg on the arm. He pulls back in horror.)

Mike: I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that! I just wanted...

Belavarg: *growls, holding his arm* You little...

(Mike steps back, horrified.)

*Belavarg reveals a flask from the inside pocket of his overcoat and throws it to the floor at Mike's feet. It explodes in a puff of smoke. When it clears, it reveals what looks like strings attached to Mike's hands and feet, leading down from the ceiling. Belavarg now holds a remote control.*

Mike: (Looks at himself) What in the... (He tries to pull the strings off)

Belavarg: I wouldn't do that. *flicks a switch, which moves Mike's had away from the string*

Mike: What are you doin'? (He tries to reach for his sword, which is still on the floor)

Belavarg: It would seem that I'm controlling you. *He flicks a switch, again moving Mike's hand away, and picks up his sword.*

Mike: Put that down!

Belavarg: No, I think I would like this for my collection. *walks over to a large cabinet and opens it to reveal a small collection of swords*

Mike: No! Give it back! It was my ancestor's!

*Belavarg puts the sword in the cabinet, then closes the door.*

Belavarg: It is mine now.

Mike: It means the world to me! (He tries to go after it, but the strings pull him back)

*Belavarg pushes a button on the controller, which begins to sap Mike's energy.*

Mike: No! Let me go!