<div class="floatleft">(http://i441.photobucket.com/albums/qq137/slam1501/rp_chars/kacorot_3_a20Kacorot2005.jpg)     </div>The warmth of the afternoon sun hit Darren Johnson when he stepped out of the dark car with the Sizzle TV logo emblazoned on its side. After having driven around the streets for what had seemed like hours, he had no orientation where he was, and when finally just before the blindfold had been taken off, he had no idea where they had stopped. All he saw was the entrance gate, and a long, straight driveway leading away from its solid wings.<br/><br/>"Bye, pal - you're sure you don't want to join last minute?" Darren joked at the scrawny guy with the hand camera who had been following him during the registration process, and during the drive. And as during Darren's last attempts to talk to him, he didn't reply, probably just following orders. Darren shrugged, grabbed the sports bag that had passed the meticulous company inspection at the Sizzle headquarters and headed through the gate. The sleeves of his dark blue shirt, which he wore over sneakers and faded denim pants, were rolled up in the warm weather.<br/><br/>The estate beyond it was huge and stately, and obviously granting privacy to the project. Neatly trimmed grass and bushes, everything looked clean and well groomed. Just like Darren did, and just like no place he had ever been to before did. But whatsoever... with his dire financial background, Darren would do what it took to win the prize, and please the auditory, preferably at the same time.<br/><br/>He went around the pool, taking a mental note to go for a swim later on. It appeared like someone had been here already - over the odor of detergents, he smelt some woman's perfume.<br/><br/>"Hello there... anybody home already?" he called out loud.