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The Fugitive

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The air was thick and cold, harsh on the lungs. It was Seldor's ideal temperature, if not his constant...For his latest victim, however, it was not. She sat there, feigning fear. Just waiting for the right moment. Her pulse sky-rocketed as she heard something shifting in the darkness of this cold, abandoned room. The room that Seldor kept all his victims in...Alive at least.

"You don't scare me..." she said to the empty corner of the room. In return, all she got was laughter. Cold and heartless, with a touch of venom. {OH REALLY?} He was currently standing in front of her, gazing down with those eyes. 'those eyes...' she thought to herself. 'No wonder they all went insane.' {THAT'S CORRECT}...he smiled, flashing rows of ever-present teeth. She started to involuntarily convulse at the sight. {I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T SCARED...PATRICIA!} The words echoed in her head, followed by another demonic chuckle.

She started to cry, which made Seldor laugh even harder, once again glaring down at her, his next meal. Her sobs quickly turned into genuine laughter. She was laughing. In front of Seldor? A grave mistake. {WHAT IS SO D*MNED FUNNY?} He was about to de-limb her when she screamed "NOW!" A large portion of the wall exploded into a massive cloud of dust. In this moment of utter chaos and confusion, she managed to make her way outside, where a heavily armored S.W.A.T. truck was awaiting her.

Surrounding the vehicle was a squad of soldiers. All heavily armored and dressed in black. She was giggling madly. Patricia pulled out a small cylindrical object, it was unknown to Seldor. It was a flash bang. He scoffed at the idea of something being able to harm him. Patricia stopped laughing at him to say "Here's a present!" She pulled the pin and tossed it.

The miniature explosion lasted for all but thirty seconds, but to Seldor it was an eternity. He screamed. It was far worse than blood-curdling it was miles beyond that. It was so horrible that several members of the S.W.A.T. team committed suicide on the spot. One man was reported dead from a heart attack. In his sleep...

"PATRICIA", he paused to inhale, making his threat more of a promise than anything. "PAAATRICIAAA" He paused once more. To let the paranoia set in, all while clawing at his eyes. "YOU WON'T KNOW WHEN IT'S COMING." "I WILL DRIVE YOU INSANE WHEN I'M FINISHED!!" Then he screamed. For what seemed like hours. Even when the remaining soldiers were long gone. It was a sound that none of the remaining would forget.

It was a full two days until he recovered, sitting in complete darkness. Planning out his next victim. {THOMAS}, he grumbled. He was at his side immediately. "y-yes?" He replied, trying to stay calm. Same brown hat, same brown outfit. {CALM YOURSELF...THE NEXT TARGET IS WITHIN THE FILE I HAVE PROVIDED." A small manila envelope containing photographs and a schedule appeared out of nowhere. "WE ARE GOING TO PLAN THINGS DIFFERENTLY, THOMAS." Seldor glared at him.
"BESIDES, IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE HAD ANY...FUN." All was silent.

Seldor had spoken.





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