A villain for life.

Thirteen.

Sorry for the delay, I needed to take some time off writing to look at this story from a refreshing point of view. It didn't actually help as I got distracted by other things :P So I gave up and updated what I've originally written, I really hope you like it :D

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My mouth was dry as the dark hole that was the end of his gun, pointed right in my face made it hard to think of anything else.

"There is a bit of bunnies, sunshine and rainbows down the road, if you listen carefully," he continued.

"I don't have the influence you obviously think I have..," the protest died on my lips as the gun pressed into my mouth.

Olyver's gaze dropped down to the gun between my lips.

"You and me are going to be partners. Think about it Gia," he pulled away the gun and made a gesture outlining a caption in mid air. "The story of the nation's favorite psychopath" twisting the words from my article. "You could become a well-known celebratory, rich too or you could.." Olyver pouted his lips in fake sadness as he looked down at me "...die now. It doesn't get any clearer that."

He rotated the gun on his index finger and pressed it back into his waistband. He then stood up and walked around the table towards me.

"You can make your choice now" I could feel his lips uncomfortably close near my ear.

"Tick-tock," he drawled.

My heart was hurting as it threatened to jump out the confines of my rib cage in fear. I quickly found myself nodding yes and then the next moment his bright green eyes barren of any emotion were looking straight into mine— when I woke up, I was lying on my couch in the same spot he had been sitting. My head hurt like a bitch. I was sure the bastard had knocked me out cold with the butt of his gun. Pulling myself to my feet I steadied myself and then took a step forward only to crash over the tea table into a tangle of legs and hands.

My cell was still lying apart in two pieces, and I put it together multiple times before realising the battery had to go in first.

"Where the hell have you been?" Victor answered on the second ring.

I breathed out the hugest sigh of relief.

"Gia?" He asked agitation clearly evident in his voice.

"Nowhere" I quickly replied, "I had cell phone troubles.."

My forehead felt clammy and I was starting to wonder if all this really had happened.

"You sound terrible, are you okay? What's happening?"

"Nothing, just a headache. I'm on my way to work, save me a coffee will you?" I tried to put a smile to my voice.

I ended the call before Victor could barrel me with a dozen more questions, and staggered towards my bedroom like a zombie banging into the walls that were suddenly sprouting in front of me, still seeing the face of the man who had threatened me.

Putting on my jacket and jeans as fast as I could, I grabbed my camera and started walking towards the bus station, worried about Danny and Victor. I knew for a fact that my parents were safe with my brother all the way back in Manhattan.

Where was Olyver now? This man was a master of disguise. He could be anywhere. I glanced around nervously. He could be that homeless man scratching his bum, or in that car pulling up in that parking lot behind me. I started walking faster.

I thought about all the people he had killed. This man was not fooling around.

Making a slight detour from the building where I worked, I double backed, did an extra circle around the block and finally banged on Danny's room that was in a basement of an old video store two blocks away.

Please Danny. Please be okay!

"Gia?" Danny opened the door in his pyjamas, his hair ruffled up in that messy way that always brought out swoony feelings. I swallowed them down and pushed my way through his one room studio searching for anything out of place.

"Danny you gotta stay in today! Don't answer the door for anyone, your friends, including a fucking girl-scout selling cookies. No one! You hear me!" I addressed my sleep addled ex who was still looking very confused at my sudden morning appearance.

"Erm, what's going on? I'm getting a bit freaked out here."

I'll have to exercise the dissolution clause. Olyver's threat rang in my head repeatedly.

How do I tell him that a psychopathic serial killer/ trained assassin/ escaped convict wanted me to write his autobiography?

Danny grabbed me by my hands and scanned my face with one eye open. He always knew when something was up, even when I tried my best covering it up with resting bitch face syndrome.

"You don't look okay to me! What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"No you're not. Your palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, you look nervous, but on the surface calm and ready to drop bombs.." he started to rap.

"Okay, okay!" I interjected "I'll explain in a minute" I freed myself from him to lock his door, putting in all the bolts, even the useless chain lock and making sure his windows were closed and the curtains pulled down, did I finally ease into the big leather sofa squat in the middle of his hall. My leg started to bounce up and down nervously while he stood across me and then crossed his arms. "Okay Gia, you better start talking!"

I stared at Danny. There are a few things you needed to know about him. He was a video store clerk by day and a gourmet chef in training by night, well for now. He liked to dabble in countless number of events and activities which quite frankly I couldn't put up with.

Last year he was into art school, but then ditched it midway for a group of weird people who were going trekking deep into the Hlatikhulu forest in Africa. He reappeared a month later riddled with mosquito bites and a serious case of dysentery. I think he finally got it in himself to settle down with the chef-training and an old video store he bought cheap, which he was later planning to renovate into a restaurant, a smart move. But then again, Danny was a smart man. A handsome one too. There are probably other things you need to know about Danny. But I'll get to that later.

Right now, I needed to tell someone I trusted and if it was anyone, it was always Danny. I didn't know how to soften it and decided to be as vague as possible.

"A guy was in my house with a gun"

"What the fuck? Is he one of those disturbed creeps that write's you long Shakespearean love ballads from prison?"

"No, that guy is still in there." I reassured him about the lonely heart murderer. I then went on to give him a brief description of how this guy was a trained killer and had killed plenty of times.

"What does he want with you?" Danny looked nervous as hell, he never did like any of the stories I recounted to him from my days working on the field.

"He wanted me to write him his memoir."

"A memoir? Like a biography? That's un-fucking unbelievable. Does this have anything to do with the current case you're working with?" He paused and shook his head at me in warning "Gia, do not to lie to me!"

I inhaled and then slowly nodded.

Danny grabbed his hair between his fists with an incredulous look. "Jesus Christ! Olvyer Alvarez!? You have to alert the authorities right now, the fucking FBI, the swat and the president of the United States!!" He yelled and started pacing up and down the length of the tiny room in full-blown panic.

"I can't do any of that!" I yelled back. "He has photos!"

"He has photos!?"

"Yes, he has photos! And why are we yelling!?"

I was really starting to regret telling him.

Danny calmed down enough to notice the envelope clenched in my hand and took it. I watched his face as he went through the stack of photos, his expression changing from shock, disbelief and then..something totally unexpected.

"Danny, are you crying?"