A young woman in her early twenties, who had left a noisy Halloween party to get some fresh air on the last night of October. He felt drawn to her the moment he spotted her, allowing himself to approach and make his presence known, far from anyone's eyes — staring at her, intently and predatorily, through the slits of his mask and between the bars of the fence, like a large, powerful red cat about to make a wide, deadly lunge, almost physically feeling beneath the pads of his paws how the prey's heart flutters with fear and tension in such dangerous, immediate proximity... However.
The uninvited guest forced him to retreat and leave her, barely suppressing the burning desire for blood and... something else. Not today. Alas.
This time, the prey was lucky enough to avoid her predator. And he takes it for granted. Especially since this Halloween night already promises to be full of entertainment...
But sometimes, fate can bring a truly unexpected and pleasant surprise. Devil can't believe his eyes or his incredible luck, seeing this girl again – among a crowd of her noisy and carefree friends on the threshold of the deadly trap he and his "colleagues in the craft" had built the day before... Does it ever happen that prey itself walks into the clutches of its predator, driven by the herd instinct to meet its doom?... It doesn't matter. Either way, Devil rejoices. After all, she really is here.
On this last October night, luck really smiled upon him, and he will not miss his chance to get the most unforgettable and vivid impressions from this hunt...
His blood boils with anticipation as he watches her from the shadows... As she walks inside, looking around with something between curiosity and a hint of apprehension, gazing at the cobwebs and fake bones... Even when fear presents itself as something artificial and harmless, her cheekbones tense, and her gaze reveals mistrust, wariness. Even when she jumps theatrically, feigning fear, even when she laughs with her friends... or merely imitating laughter?
Only he can see... She's not like everyone else. Not as carefree as the others. She's special... As wild as he is.
Every moment of her presence here, she seems to hear and to feel the breath of a predator behind her — the one who has tasted her scent and picked up her trail, already claiming her for his pack — solidarity is sometimes not unknown even among cruel serial killers. Especially when it comes to such "special" victims...
Tonight, she will be entirely his... in this place, in his lair, on his territory — in his grasp...
His gaze follows her as he prowls after her, slowly and methodically, playing the game he's played many times before — giving the unsuspecting victim that sweet, intoxicating false sense of control and security within the supposed safety of the haunted attraction, like an unspoken prelude to the unfiltered, real horror that lies ahead, masquerading as a Halloween joke...
"Who's there?" She whispers, reacting with alarm to the sounds of his presence in the darkness of the narrow crawl tunnel, and he seems to taste her fear on his tongue.
Pheromones flood the air within the cramped space, and he seems intoxicated by them, allowing her to see, allowing her to notice, allowing himself to be discovered, and letting her know that he's watching, that he's observing, that he's following her closely, aware of her every step, every movement — every anxious breath in and out...
Wariness flickers in her gaze. She hurries to flee, as if sensing danger with some sixth sense, as she climbs out of the hole... But she can't escape — she's already caught in his web.
The girl in yellow has already separated from the others — vanished, gone, disappeared without a trace into a winding, dusty, narrow passage, riddled with splinters, as if she had never been there at all... He doesn't care — others will deal with her, while he, as if enchanted, follows the voice of his coveted prey, continuing to toy with her in his own manner.
She's like a doe screaming in the thicket, calling to her kin, but inevitably attracting a tiger...
Her gaze, her reaction to him — it's priceless. Not panic — recognition. Something that can awaken in the beast not only the killer...
A sigh — louder than he intended, sounds like a hiss in the astonished, mute silence, passing through the slits of his mask — this is the first time that she's so close. So close that it feels like he could simply reach out and touch, to claim and...
"Hey. Um... Our friend is still in there." The boy next to her, like a hindrance — his voice sounded unexpected, full of naive confidence in his sense of control, desecrating the brief, sweet moment of heady tension hanging in the air... He'll have time to pay for this later.
But for now, the bloodthirsty grin is forced to remain hidden beneath a cheap red mask with horns — the time for a real show hasn't come yet, no matter how much he wants to send him running into the darkness...
A corpulent carcass doesn't deserve so much attention. She, however... A gaze like temptation. A black-gloved hand slowly rises and reaches toward her, and the click of the switch handle sounds like a blow... like a shot, like a bright flash, echoing off the walls and casting artificial light on the yellow iron door at the end of the corridor — he wants them to keep going, something the smart doe easily understands without words, intriguing and exciting the one prowling behind her like never before...
The pupils dilate, and goosebumps run under the clothes.
Devil is certain — she probably knows... She hears him, she feels the same — after all, her gait betrays her.
A slight hesitation as her body shudders slightly from the sound of a clang on the other side of the door... like a string ready to snap at any moment, and he can almost physically feel the heat of her skin, reaching him through the air... Her jeans-clad hips sway almost provocatively, step by step, and her waist curves beneath her red hooded sweatshirt as she turns, as if confirming that she feels the predator's gaze touching her, staring fixedly, almost breathlessly...
Her dark hair spills over her shoulders, and her moist eyes gleam with fear and apprehension when, involuntarily or deliberately, they encounter the slits in his mask — the prey seems to tease him, testing the limits of the hunter's self-control.
The heat rising from the belly is almost intoxicating, forcing him to inhale greedily again and again: sweat, fear... woman.
However, disappointment burns when, at the most crucial and turning point, his attempt to separate her from the other fails – the girl proves far more courageous and decisive than Devil expected, leaving him alone with the annoying fat man when she follows the alarming sounds of the chainsaw first.
The red mantis had intended to latch onto a cicada, not this chatty, fat caterpillar.
But that's what excites him even more... Never before had he encountered a woman who would prefer to descend into the unknown, into the roaring and thundering Hell, rather than the illusory safety above, with one of the "actors". Such tricks work on anyone, but not on her... A fatal woman, a fatal prey – that elusive, nimble doe that the tiger will get, no matter how fast she runs from him.
And now, finally, the game of safety has come to its end — the cards are laid bare. The thrill of the hunt surges through him...
A girl's hands, with a tenacity worthy of better use, grip the door handle from the other side with all their might. Victims always naively believe this will save them...
But one sharp push, and nothing more prevents him from simply entering... Bloodlust pulses through his veins as he watches, one after another, his victims, like rabbits, dart into the narrow, dark passage of the maze, while he simply walks — measurably approaching them, his dangerous pitchfork at the ready, driving its tines into still-living, warm flesh in mere seconds, piercing straight through the head and face of a screaming, panicking costumed nurse, silencing her forever.
After a little effort, the punctured skull, like a ripe pumpkin, drops to the floor with a crash. But a quiet, frightened sob from behind brings the tiger to his senses...
The head slowly turns, but the hood and mask prevent immediate visibility... The soul of the involuntary spectator freezes, but the instinct for self-preservation takes over, forcing her to run as fast as she can — Devil can't believe he really didn't notice her in all this chaos! But even better this way...
The prey was destined to witness firsthand what the predator who desired her was capable of.
The scent of her fear and panic, like a scarlet thread of fate binding them, stretches through the air as the sound of footsteps echoes metallically down the corridors, making the heart beat faster and faster, as if in time. But the beast is in no hurry. He has no need to hurry. He simply strides, knowing for certain that this time his doe will not be able to escape him — the red door will not allow it... It is there that she will meet him. And it is there that he will make her submit...
Corridors, staircases, passages... Iron doors and a fake, dark cemetery with fake tombstones — all this just to stoke his hunger before the long-awaited moment of their meeting. This time, he will catch her, and she will no longer have the chance to slip someone else in her place...
The doorknob, covered in cracked red paint, moves — she, of course, used the key ring Ghost so kindly provided her. But Ghost wasn't the only one with keys to all the doors... As the clever girl surely could have guessed...
But despite everything, she continues to fight.
With all her strength, the fragile doe continues to fight the onslaught of the deadly threat, stubbornly refusing to let the tiger's key turn in the lock... So desperate.
And this cannot help but fill Devil with admiration. After all, this is how wild animals fight, trying to wrest even the last moments of their own lives from a fanged jaw... And even when he finally managed to catch her off guard, breaking her miserable little key right in the lock, fully demonstrating his dominant, brutal, and unyielding strength, the merciless predator suddenly... went soft?... succumbed to doubt, feeling a modicum of mercy toward his prey?... No.
He only realized that he couldn't — that he simply wouldn't have time to satiate himself, having her too quickly. After this chase, after everything...
He wants more from her. Much more...
The girl's sweat-drenched back, trembling with terror, presses against the creaking, cold metal bars behind her as her swift legs give way, forcing the doe to simply sag before the tiger, towering directly above her. Her lips quiver, and her chest heaves, voicing short, ragged breaths. Like moans... Seeing her like this, Devil feels as if he's burning from the inside.
Everything about her now: her face, her skin, her breath — it was all part of a picture he'd imagined with bloodthirsty lust many times.
Her fingers slide powerlessly across the cold, dirty floor, while her eyes, from bottom to top, stare fixedly at him, about to dissolve in tears. She's so beautiful when she begs...
The tines of his pitchfork, raised directly above her like the fangs of a predator, like an extension of his will — his essence — twist methodically as he genuinely enjoys it.
But something's wrong... A foreign name pierced his ears, causing something inside him to clench almost painfully. Had she... been mistaken?
Devil simply can't believe it... Could she really have mistaken him for someone else? And she probably had all this time... Fate, which had previously seemed to have granted him this chance, had just mocked him outright!...
But what does he feel? Disappointment? Jealousy?... No. That's not him now — it would be foolish to be jealous of the prey you already hold in your teeth. This feeling pierced him, but only for a moment, almost immediately replaced by simple bewilderment. He feels interest — curiosity. Pulling his deadly pitchfork aside, he touches the edge of its handle to the floor with a light thud. His hand moves smoothly back, throwing off the scarlet hood, and he sees his prey's gaze change...
At some point, her eyes lose their unequivocal fear. Even if this woman's fears were originally possessed by some other predator, Devil feels that it no longer matters to him — after all, right now her gaze is riveted only on him... And he does not intend to share.
Her eyes glow with hope as she searches his gaze, fixed on her through the slits, for something even remotely familiar, something close. Was that predator kind to her, or was he not a predator to her at all?...
"Who's Sam?" Devil intends to find out as quickly as possible, unceremoniously revealing himself to her, by theatrically removing his cheap mask, and he almost melts as he watches the power of speech leave his unfortunate doe, along with all her former hope...
The game of cat and mouse is over. And he doesn't regret it one bit.
For now this girl's eyes, like two dark pools, beckoning with secrets, look at him. And for the first time, he finally allows himself to touch...
"Such a pretty mask." He says it sincerely, almost with admiration, imperiously, yet almost tenderly, stroking and caressing the skin on her cheek and chin with his black-gloved fingers, finally playfully lifting her face from below, like a mask, with a clear hint. "Why don't we take it off... and find out who you really are?"
He's almost lost in her return gaze — besides fear, he sees something else in it too... For the first time, the prey manages to make the predator smile in a way that's different from its usual smile.
A moment freezes in silence, almost like a heartbeat... That very moment that decides fate...
But the screen, abruptly pulled aside, treacherously ruins this idyll, forcing the beast to react to the one hiding behind it all this time!
All he manages to do is raise his hand, shielding his face from the hail of shots raining down on him — guns, bullets?!... No, just nails from a nail gun, though they pierce flesh just as well as a firearm... That guy — that damn athlete who was with her at the beginning, who jumped out from behind their theater curtain like a jack-in-the-box!
"Run, Harper!" He commands, and the doe lying before the predator, almost caught, almost taken by the beast, instantly takes flight, leaping out the open door, taking advantage of his confusion.
Jealousy and anger painfully cloud his reason in the blink of an eye — Devil hates it when his plans fail, and with furious rage he lunges at the cause of his failures, plunging the tines of his pitchfork right into the bars, as if really trying to reach with them an irritating piece of human meat!... A metal grinding fills the space, echoing off the peeling walls of the room! But emotions quickly subside.
Baring his teeth, the red tiger only hisses, in frustration.
It would be his greatest pleasure to wind the baseball bastard's guts around his "claws" right now, catching him like a cat catches mice!... But alas, he has no time for such nonsense now — at all costs he must overtake, he must catch — he must reclaim his silly little doe who is running in the darkness of his lair right now, before she shares the last moment of her fragile life with one of the "traps" scattered throughout the house, and not with her predator...
A searing, incinerating gaze becomes the only farewell the insolent guy receives — Devil will get even with him later, unless, of course, others "take" him first.
Pushing the iron door open with a heavy slam of his hand, he resumes his hunt...
***
Cool air spreads out to the sides, gliding along the brick walls, and the silence rings faintly, echoing with the dozens of knives suspended from the ceiling. But the darkness inside the lair is incapable of frightening the killer beast, who has furnished every inch of it with his own hands, as if he were decorating his own home... Fresh blood, glistening on the nails protruding from the floor, greets him with the still-undissolved scent of pain and fear — his prey has passed here recently. Her salty, delicate taste, melting on the tongue, gives way to a metallic, bitter aftertaste of disappointment — he had expected to claim his doe unharmed.
What did that girl intend to achieve by trying to outwit her predator in his own lair? Hasn't she yet realized that running and hiding from him is futile?
The thin white wooden door of the imitation girl's bedroom shudders from a heavy, dull blow. Another. And another. And finally, it simply gives in, swinging open, being kicked down with a bang, toppling the small child's dresser and all its contents, like some pathetic, weightless house of cards — the makeshift barricade was unable to hold back the onslaught of the one who had come to take what is his.
But he's in no hurry. Here and now, Devil is certain he's already won. In this room, the little mouse will no longer be able to hide from the big cat...
The scent of her sweat, her blood, her fear fills the space, intoxicating like wine, and beneath the tall child's bed, a trembling vibrates almost physically...
Huddled in a corner, she thinks she's hidden, that the beast won't find her, won't notice her, but step by step, without haste, he approaches, circling smoothly — relishing the sensation of the distance closing, the hunt reaching its logical conclusion, already reverberating in his body with a thrilling anticipation... a smoldering heat rising in blazing waves from below upward.
Godlessly anticipating the moment of his terrifying triumph — the warmth and sweetness of the girl's flesh straining beneath him, which he will savor for as long as he desires — Devil merely leans slowly and deliberately to the very edge of the mattress, his pitchfork turned upward, as if hiding his deadly claws in the pads of paws.
"Come out." He almost purrs triumphantly, looking intently in the direction from which he hears the breathing. "Let's take off your mask."
A primal, base desire pulses through the veins...
But a sudden "No" rings out.
And before his reflexes can kick in and his mind can register it, the form of his prey flashes before him, crunching through with inhuman pain!...
The cutting, burning, impenetrable darkness that crashes over him in just a split second, in the blink of an eye, like night, like a hellish storm, chirping in his head like a flock of frightened birds, disturbed by his own painful roar — severed nerves, like exposed wires in the rain, strike him with electric shock and tremors, forcing him to fly to the side several meters, knocking down everything in his path — to fall and to lie, writhing on the floor in an incinerating, almost death agony, after his eyeball with a wet, disgusting sound burst and cracked right in the socket, like an overripe grape, pierced and cut through by a jagged, hard object!...
Terrified to death, the rabbit dared to bite the fox that had cornered her.
But Devil is unable to think or even comprehend what just happened to him, sensing only the hot, sticky, dark liquid gushing from his suddenly empty left eye socket, pouring through his fingers and soaking the entire floor in front of him, painting it a deep crimson!
He can barely hear anything but his own screams... But the sound of the gunshot almost sobers him up.
Bloody splatters scattered across the girl's makeshift bedroom, and the woman's body fell to the floor with a dull thud. But she's not dead...
The sound of her scream, her groans, her convulsions, her tremors, and her ragged breathing seem almost imperceptible, merging into one continuous and indistinguishable background hum, mingling with the soft melody of a music box, spinning the gears of insidious, diabolical mechanism for the second time. The jute thread slides against the trigger, ready to tighten again at any moment and pull it, while the wounded doe, with her last strength, tries to escape her fate, crawling away through the door broken by the shot — into the darkness, into the unknown, toward the gun, but away from the bloodied and enraged beast...
"My eye!" Devil roars, overwhelmed with unbearable pain and anger. "Aah! My fucking eye!"
Rage burns and eats away at his flesh no less than the pain in the ragged, bleeding wound running deep into his skull, as he sees in his palm the shreds — pieces of his own flesh — his personality, his identity... That monstrous work of art — his own face, which he earned through countless murders over many years among his like-minded fellows, and which he designed with such persistence, veneration, and patience, courageously enduring all the hardships...
The fucking bitch has no idea what she's done, ruining all of this with her pathetic, pointless outburst!
She's ruined him! And now he'll make her pay in full for it!...
Throwing the pieces of what used to be an eye aside, dripping blood, Devil surges forward.
A second shot whistles through the open door, streaking past him, but he doesn't care. Uncontrollable rage pulses in his completely black, now only good eye, as he sees her right in front of him, on the floor — her hips, her back, and her dark hair strewn across it... Clutching her head in fear and pain, she groans stifledly, almost like he did just a moment ago, already knowing he's behind her... And that he's ready to tear her to pieces.
This time, Devil finally catches up with her, swooping down from above like a bloody, red bird of prey onto a wounded rabbit.
Standing directly above her and abruptly lifting her by the shoulders, he turns her to face him, wanting to see how she will writhe — how the horror of death will be reflected in her wet eyes when she will suffer... Then, when HE will make her suffer and will enjoy every moment of that!...
Pressing her hands to her chest and sprawled in despair beneath him, as if on her deathbed, the prey, having become pitiful, seems to be begging the beast for mercy. But instead, Devil merely clutches her thin, fragile neck, squeezing it mercilessly with inhuman strength and furious rage... cutting off her every breath.
He wants to make her die slowly for what she did to him!...
The girl groans, wheezes, and coughs, gasping for breath. Her palms slide over the backs of his hands — the mad woman still begs... Her gaze is fixed on him... And this makes Devil shudder.
Hissing from the insane, still unbearable pain — physical and mental — that still pulses and bleeds in his skull, and from despair, anger, resentment... and a completely dull and senseless anger, in a fit of rage, he backhands her right in the forehead, nearly tearing her head from her neck and sending it flying sideways like a ball. Instead, miraculously remaining in place, it simply falls back deeply, forcing her to finally stop looking at him...
The bitterness of resentment and desperation mingles with an unpleasant and unsatisfactory relief...
After all, that was all he could do — just strike... Strike the one who had managed to make him look like a complete weakling on this October festival of fear and horror — the one who had dared to attack and ruin him... the one who had managed to wound him more painfully than anyone ever had before...
That doe with her eyes wet with fear, who had captivated the tiger at the gates of that bar, making him forget everything in an instant...
The beast so desperately wanted his prey to focus solely on him, but he showed weakness, now realizing he simply couldn't bear it...
Here and now, an overwhelming need to finish her off pulses through his muscles and veins, strained to the limit, but he hesitates, not even understanding why — as if he's forgotten how to hunt and kill, almost lost in thought, recalling that his weapons — his pitchfork, his cruel tiger claws — are now beyond his reach, lying on the floor somewhere in that room... With all his might, Devil would like to convince himself that he hadn't accidentally forgotten them, but wanted to deal with the girl who had ruined his appearance with his bare hands — slowly and painfully, utterly bestial, feeling her every painful spasm as if they were his own...
But instead, he thinks only of the blood from his empty eye socket dripping directly onto her shoulder, mixing with the blood from her wound into a homogeneous liquid.
Red on red. Their blood could truly mix, and it would be delightful... almost romantic under different circumstances...
Pain and frustration squeeze his skull from both sides, like the two jaws of a crocodile that has caught him in its maw.
In his torment, Devil only hisses menacingly and angrily as the woman's gaze crashes back into him again — that very missed moment that can decide the outcome of the battle, and which is completely unacceptable during a hunt... The beast's head is ringing with unbearable, aching pain, but something within still smolders — despite everything, his flesh still continues to throb with unsatisfied yearnings, and a momentary falter turns into a fatal, utter confusion...
The prey's charms prove powerful and dominating over the predator, even when he is determined to tear her to pieces...
The exhausted, wounded beast loses himself when a woman's hand suddenly and unexpectedly rises, pressing a cool palm to his cheek — sticky with sweat and blood, positioning it between the implanted spikes on his chin, as if with tenderness... But alas, only for a moment before she plunges her thumb into the mangled, bloody mess where his eye had recently been, pressing with enough force to make the merciless killer howl again from the renewed, piercing pain that tears through him once more.
The finger penetrates deep into his skull like a worm gnawing its way through his flesh, ripping with excruciating, cutting pain, like a corkscrew being screwed into a bottle cork, and the red tiger has no choice but to writhe in impotent rage before the doe that has turned the hunt around...
He himself doesn't notice how his body recoils back, his head treacherously jerking upward, as if yanked by an invisible chain of agony links wrapped around his neck in a deadly noose.
The elongated barrel, like the image of a reaper, imprints in his gaze just an instant before a bright, lightning-fast flash and a deafening, ringing bang, following precisely on time after the end of the innocent, tinkling melody, release the iron, which strikes precisely on target...
A sudden and sharp darkness covers the tiger like a cloak of defeat, blasting the dark-crimson splashes from his skull along with his cruel, immortal soul, and the heavy, instantly limp body of the fierce, formidable predator falls lifelessly to the floor, at the very feet of his would-be victim — the prey that became fatal for him in this hunt...
All that Halloween night, he ran — chased her like a mirage, unknowingly drawing closer to the precipice... Chased the prey who made him weak without him even realizing it, blinded not by the jagged key from the small music box under the bed, but by her wet, frightened gaze and the demeanor of a cornered victim, fleeing a predator through a dark forest... He drank this fear like sweet nectar from the poisoned spring of his own desires, ignoring how the intoxication of obsession dulled his instincts and corroded him from within with the poison of doubt, forcing him to hesitate and waver, believing in the illusion that the game could be worth more than victory, and the hunt more important than the outcome.
The outcome of their confrontation was a foregone conclusion: the prey had overcome the beast, who had allowed himself to desire her as more than just a victim...
Or had he allowed his prey — this woman — to overcome him?
