“I am just giving the people what they want, what they need.” Blood dripped down his trimmed golden beard, three of his precious pearly white teeth had been kicked out, his spotless gums now swelled with blood and pain. His eyes, eyes that stared calmly and motionlessly into the public for years on end every night at exactly seven o’clock, now darted nervously around the dark corridor. George Henson, executive director and host to the Global United Federation’s top rated 24-hour news and entertainment station, could not help but laugh at his current predicament. Droplets of scarlet ejected from his lips as he heavily exhaled, squeezing out a belittling scoff, “Even now, I am giving you what you want and need. Go ahead and kill me, it’s not going to do shit in the end.”
The figure that stood above him, fists clenched and dripping with fresh blood, stared with furious eyes into the perfect blue irises of George Henson. Henson struggled on a sprained wrist to sit up as he brushed aside matted blonde hair, trying to look his best for his final moments. The silhouette grabbed him by the collar, Henson yelped for fear of a painful death as he was swiftly pulled into a sliver of light escaping into the hall; just inches from the figure’s face. George could see the man’s pupils shrink as they came into the light, like a stalker about to close in on it’s prey. “I am going to let you live, to see the abomination you have created collapse on itself. I am going to hunt each of your pawns down and twist their arms until they scream so loud it wakes the public up. No, George, I won’t kill you tonight, but you’re going to wish you were dead after I am through.”
