HOLD YOUR BREATH ─── six underground

xxiv. WHERE'S MY HOMICIDAL BROTHER WHEN I NEED HIM?

"...You're as dramatic as ever," Seven commented.

                    Zero started to laugh a laugh of sorrow. The tears were streaming down her cheeks now as she felt an alien emotion wash over her. Her smile was laced with a great melancholy as she cried some more.

"You can drop the boohoo bullshit 'cause I can see right through it," Seven disclosed.

One shrugged it off.

"You know, you were good in there," he complimented.

             "Yeah, I know," Seven smirked back.

"That Turkmen was garbage."

                  The pair laughed and Zero did too.

"You've got a soul, man," Seven realised. "You should let it out."

                  With that, the intercoms shut off and Zero stood up from her chair. She glanced at the time and sighed. Nightfall had bestowed itself upon her and she wiped her eyes, ridding them of any tears. The girl didn't need emotions distracting her. Not now. Because the Day of the Dead was tomorrow. The most important day of her after-life. Her final day of her after-life. And she was going to have to fight harder than she ever had in her entire life.

Zero knew that, tomorrow, either Rovach Alimov was going to die or she would instead.

                      As she grabbed the most expensive technology in sight, she slipped her backpack on her back and pulled out a glock. She shot at the two cameras in the corners of the room, completely obliterating them. Then, dousing everything in sight in a layer of gasoline, she pulled up the door to the storage space. Once outside, the match was lit. She tossed it inside, gazing back at the flames of destruction. And her bright green eyes were illuminated by the dancing of the fire.

Tomorrow, she thought.

Tomorrow.

∘₊✧─── ·𖥸· ───✧₊∘

october 17th, 2015.
westbrook, iowa.

                        EDEN LAMBERT STARTED TO YELL THROUGH THE TAPE across her mouth once more, growing increasingly irritated. The muffled cry echoed throughout the abandoned warehouse, falling upon deaf ears. Oh, yeah. And those of the serial killer lurking in the shadows. The Campus Killer watched from afar as she pulled on her binds, blood pouring down her wrists. There was already a scarlet stain upon the wall and floor from where he had dumped her head. He didn't like the messiness. So, instead of allowing her to bleed out, he stalked towards the girl and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back. She gasped in surprise as he ripped off the tape.

"...Ouch," she groaned, sulking slightly.

"What is it now?" he growled, afraid to even hear the answer.

"I'm thirsty," Eden shrugged.

                 The CK's shoulders deflated. He reached forward and gripped her face, grabbing it towards his. She tried to pull away, but, though slender, he was much stronger. As he gazed into her eyes, he saw a strong hint of defiance. His eyebrows knitted together. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"