Six months later.Mature

A dull electronic buzz was heard, and then the clanging of a door being opened.

Marc could feel the vibration of it through the metalic chair he was handcuffed to.

He sat in the center of  a square room; there was a one way smoked window to his front and only one door to his rear which opened at that moment.

He heard a person enter, and then the door closed once again.

He heard the rustling of papers, more footsteps, and finally a man came into view.

The man walked in front of him holding a folder which he skimmed through. He was middle aged, and his face was scarred, perhaps by acne in his youth. He was clean cut and wore dark dress pants and a light purple collard shirt. The shirt was wrinkled by the shoulder holster that housed a compact USP under his left armpit

"You've been busy." He said, in a lower voice than expected.

He looked up from the folder as he dropped it to the ground, holding on to one piece of paper. Marc could see that his eyes were an unnaturally bright blue.

"You know." He said, lifting the paper which was a photo of Sasha's corpse as found mangled and bloated on the rocky shores near where she had been shot. "We weren't sure who you were until you killed Sasha. You probably could have stayed at large indefinitely if it wasn't for that mistake."

I hope you have great backup generators

"You have nothing to say?"

"No table to put your shit on?" Marc asked.

"Ah, no. That would cause a shadow now wouldn't it? We aren't amateurs. We've been hunting your kind for hundreds of years."

I'm going to kill you especially slowly

"We've got it down to a fine art." The man continued. "Did you really think you were the only one? That you could just play god and do what you wanted to and get away with it?"

Very, very slowly

"Well here's a news flash. You're not the only one, and you're so damn young that I bet you don't even know the best part."

With something random... maybe a pencil

"Did you know, that we've had demons like you locked away for hundreds of years? There's these special candles that were made by The Order before electricity, they'd burn brightly for weeks. Of course, the advent of electricity has made things much easier on us."

You talk too much, I'm going to rip your tongue out

"You don't age Marc, you'll be in this room until kingdom come."

Don't age...

"And the great thing is, I don't either."

Then I'll have all the time in the world to plan what to do with your flesh once I've peeled it from your bones.

"So when the rules change and I get the go ahead to put you down." He said, pulling the pistol from his holster and planting it firmly into Marc's forehead. "You'll enjoy a perfectly earned dirt nap."

Marc smiled "Are you angry at the world because someone fucked up your pretty face?"

"Thought you'd never ask." he said, returning the pistol to his holster. "They're burn scars. Got into a pretty rough battle with one of your kind. I burned a barn to trap him, got a little hot in there."

I wonder if you'll enjoy living forever as a stump once I've ripped off your limbs

"He's in cell block E, been there for about a hundred and sixty years now."

Marc frowned, "You can't keep me here forever." he said.

"Watch me."

"You don't understand."

"Really?" He asked, picking up the folder. "What is there to understand?

"I made a few friends since you guys started hunting me." Marc continued.

"Oh? and what's that going to help you with?"

"One of them is behind that glass."

The man frowned and then spun about and peered into the smoked glass. It cleared to reveal a young woman wearing glasses and a black dress. The two men working on the recording equipment sat lifeless in their chairs, staring blankly at the window as droplets of their blood still ran down the inside of the glass.

The woman was standing by a large power box and was resting her hand on the lever.

"No." The man uttered.

Marc smiled.

Now where's that pencil?

The End

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