Thrill of the Chase (Escape from Furnace fanfic)

The Hunt

You ran through the prison halls, ragged breathes leaving your lips as you desperately searched for sanctuary. Behind you, closer than you would like, was the sound of pristine black shoes stepping in your direction, followed by the nails-on-chalkboard screech of a dagger being dragged along the crimson stone walls. Focusing more on the proximity of the sound rather than on your direction, you nearly crashed into another red wall. Dead end. You were trapped, cornered, pinned. He was getting too close for you to run the other way, giving you no chance of escape.

Scriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch. He was getting closer now.

Scriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch. He was taking his sweet, sweet time. He knew he had you.

Scriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch. It seemed like an eternity had passed, your legs on fire from the chase. Every breath stung, like wasps had taken roost in your lungs.

Finally, around the bend, the scraping so deafening now, as if it was all around you, you saw the warden step into view. A flash of teeth, those lifeless black sockets, a smile like a slash across his face, splitting it in half, full of rancid glee.

"I see you." He hissed, swiping his blade from the wall to his side, sending sparks flying to the floor. In some attempt to sneak away, to make yourself seem smaller, you pressed your back to the wall behind you. Maybe you would sink into the wall, fall into some never ending abyss and just cease to exist. Anything to get away from him.

Instead, he only grew closer, dark eyes fixated on you. He stared at you like the way a rabid dog looked at an innocent rabbit; Like prey. You are his prey, nothing more than a slab of meat for him to chew up and play with. And you both knew that all too well.

He stopped a few feet away from you. Why get any closer? You were already pinned down by your own fear, needles sticking into you like a bug in a display case. Where could you go? The only option was to weave around him, and you had already witnessed for yourself that he was much quicker than he looked. One wrong move and he could snatch you and slit your throat, quick and clean. But then that wouldn't be any fun.

"Now, here we are," He spread his arms, as if gesturing to this 'meeting place', miles and miles underground, deep within the guts of the earth, in Furnace Penitentiary. You didn't reply; What was there to say? Good job, Cross! You sure got me good! He had won and he knew it, so he was just going to rub it all in, shoving handfuls of salt into an already festering wound.

"You know, you didn't put up as much of a fight as the others did." He stated, that deep and gravelly voice bouncing off the inner walls of your skull. "You just ran. Smart," He smirked, his leathery face twisted up into a mix between a grin and a snarl, "And cowardly."

"I actually thought I wouldn't catch you, for a moment. But you reek of fear, and sick." He sneered, turning his nose up at you. Ah, yeah, you did puke out your guts when this whole chase began out of sheer nervousness. "Nearly slipped in it." He frowned, grumbling to himself. The thought of the warden, in his crisp grey suit, slipping in a puddle of your last lunch, was admittedly amusing. Like an act of petty vengeance. He, however, did not find it all too funny, and instead grimaced at your thoughts.

"Nevermind that." He scowled, before finally approaching you. He pressed the sharp edge of the blade to your throat, obviously not in the mood to joke around. "This was fun, but now you're really getting on my nerves. I have a prison to run. I can't waste my time getting rid of vermin like you. I have a schedule to keep."

"Any last words?" He cooed in a mocking tone, the edge of the blade now flush to your neck. A gob of spit and bile rose in your throat, any words coming out slurred into gibberish. "That's what they all say." He chuckled, gripping your prison overalls to hold you in place.

Gathering up the courage, you hacked a lob of bloody phlegm up onto his grey suit, causing the warden to drop you and stagger back. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down at the red stain on the breast of his jacket. A weak smile was all you could muster in triumph before his fist connected with your jaw, sending you crashing to the stone floor.

"Idiot!" He screeched, delivering a sharp kick to your ribs as you laid sprawled beneath him. "I just had this suit pressed!"

Before you could even blink in response, he wrenched you up by your neck, fingers digging into your windpipe. Black static began to creep into the corners of your vision as he lifted you up, your feet dangling helplessly just a few inches above ground.

"I was going to end this quickly for you, but now you've just upset me. Now, how many new holes did you want installed?"

All you could do was drag in one last wheeze before he jabbed his blade into your gut over and over, the wet schlick, schlick of the dagger tearing through skin and fabric before he dropped you to the floor. The shock of it all kept you alive, floundering frantically on the ground as you bled out. You cradled your own guts in your arms like a newborn infant, shaking uncontrollably at the sight.

And all he did was laugh. That booming laughter echoed through the halls, rattling inside your adrenaline drunk brain, shaking you to your core. As your vision flickered in and out, the warden's laughter grew farther and farther away, as if miles underwater. He knelt besides you to take you chin into his palm, twisting your head up to look into his eyes. Flashes of rotten meat, chains, and twisted metal and bone danced across your mind as it finally began to give out, his stale breath hot on your face. "Goodnight, #3472953. Sweet dreams."