Hunted

Chapter 2

He grabbed his head, his ears ringing. He barely managed to excuse himself from Natasha's presence before rushing to the bathroom. He turned on the pipe and splashed the water over his face, hoping it would grant him some reprieve from the assault of images. He remembered the dream well, of the woman standing on the bridge, her words ringing in his ear, before he got plunged into darkness by someone wearing a vendetta mask under a hoody. But how could it be Natasha? He had never met her before. This was all creeping him out.

He buckled under the onslaught of more images, people dying, families mourning, fire consuming those in its path. And amidst all of this was a man in a suit, the vendetta mask with a red slash across one eye. He splashed water over his face again and raised his head to look in the mirror. Someone was behind him, fully dressed in black, a hoody pulled low over his head. The held two knives, one in each hand, the silver of each blade gleaming under the now flickering lights. Time slowed for Rhoan as the person raised their head, revealing the vendetta mask eerily smiling and staring at him with its dark eyes.

Rhoan barely managed to move in time before the assailant plunged his knife after him, shattering the mirror.

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Rhoan fell to the floor, losing his footing when made the dive to evade the gleaming deaths the assailant held.

"Wait, wait, wait! What the hell is this? What do you want?" Rhoan held up his hands.

The man in the mask tilted his head, "Your life." He lounged after Rhoan, his blades gleaming. Rhoan thought this was the end, he saw the blades making home. Rending through skin, flesh and finally hitting bone. He didn't want to die; he could be doing so much more. No! He wouldn't die, not today. He would fight for his life, and if he died doing that, then at least he didn't die like a coward, like a pathetic moron who did nothing but beg for his life.

A voice screamed "NO" inside his head and the next thing he knew, the assailant flew to the next side of the bathroom, hitting the wall hard. The man in the mask fell to the floor and slumped over. Rhoan didn't think twice, he got up and ran out of the bathroom, making his way outside.

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Natasha sat at the bar, her drink in hand. She saw Rhoan fleeing from the bathroom, sweat drenching his face. She scanned the room, then she saw him. A man dressed in a black hoody, a vendetta mask smiling from underneath. She saw Rhoan running outside and she moved. She finished her drink and started walking towards the exit.

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Rhoan made it outside and started running, deciding to stick to the crowd as much as possible. He looked behind him to see the man chasing him. He turned and ran like his life depended on it, which, by now, he realised it did. He was running when he stopped dead in his track. He spotted another man in front of him, the same black dressing, the same mask, eerily staring at him, challenging him to take another step. He did not take up the challenge, he turned into the alley to his right, a decision he soon regretted as he felt the cold steel of a knife entering his leg. He fell to the ground and turned around, the man in the mask slowly making his way towards him.