My Father was a Supervillain?

He pushed.

Together, we manhandled the desk out of the way and stood in front of the door. It was an ordinary door. Wooden. Brass knob. Slightly green with age. There was no indication that it led into a mysterious labyrinth.

"You ready?" asked Xander.

I shrugged. Then, realizing he wasn't looking at me, I gave a grunt. It did the trick. He stepped forward, grabbed the knob, and turned it. The door opened with a tremendous squeak, the kind you usually only hear in horror movies.Beyond the doorway was a darkness darker than black. A void of darkness sucking at your sanity, drawing you in. I felt myself leaning forward ever-so-subtly, on the verge of losing my balance and falling to the ground. The pull was undeniable. The darkness was calling me.

Then Xander turned on the light and ruined the moment.

"Huh," he muttered. "Didn't peg Iggy for manual labor."

"You think my Dad did this?"

"Pretty sure the house didn't come with a pre-dug subterranean chamber of evil."