Orange Mask leans down by Five, then grabs his club. Something liquid smudges his black leather gloves and drips on the ground in bright red.
Blood red.
How can they be so…monstrous at such a young age? But then again, they’ve probably been this way since they were born, considering the world they belong to.
I’ve never liked these types of people, those who hurt just because they have the power to.
Those who ruin entire families just because they can.
Morally corrupt people.
Machiavellians with no limits or morals.
The Heathens are at the top of that list with their skewed codes of conduct and hedonistic mindsets.
Orange Mask rises to his impressive height that nearly eats up the horizon, then slowly, too slowly, his head tilts in my direction.
The neon stitches glow in the near darkness as eerie silence stakes its claim.
My spine jerks when his rough, deep voice echoes in the air. “I know you’re hiding. Come out and I promise not to hurt you.Much.”
2
CECILY
Istop breathing for a second.
Itcan’tbe.
There’s no way in hell he’s seen me. Not only did I not make a sound, but I’m also invisible.
Unless he has access to the surveillance cameras.
No. I don’t see anything in his ears, so he can’t possibly communicate with security.
So how the hell did he figure out I was here?
I cast a slow look at my surroundings to confirm he just spoke to me and not someone else near me.
A number is announced to be eliminated, echoing in the silence like doom. An involuntary jerk lifts my shoulder, but I remain in place, watching.
Or more like, I’m trapped by Orange Mask who’s standing about thirty meters away nonchalantly holding the club that rests on his shoulder.
And he’s still staring in my direction, the neon orange of his mask becoming creepily predatory as the night stakes its claim. Though, he’s not looking directly at me, so he doesn’t know where I am exactly.
“Come out while I’m giving you the chance. If I have to pull you out, the scene won’t look pretty.”
It won’t look pretty either way, psycho.
And how can someone sound so apathetically methodical while talking? His tone is no different from that of a robot.
An evil one that’s defected and is currently plotting humanity’s demise.
“Your time is up.” The weight of his words hits me first before he starts toward me with long, purposeful strides.
I don’t think about it as I run in the opposite direction.
Inexplicable energy courses through me, bubbling with the sole purpose of survival. Of getting as far away from him as possible.