You crouch behind a rusted filing cabinet, the jagged edges biting into your back as you press yourself against the wall. The air is thick with dust, the scent of mildew and decay filling your lungs as you struggle to steady your breathing. Every inhale feels too loud, every exhale a betrayal.

Footsteps echo through the abandoned office, slow and deliberate, crunching over shattered glass and broken concrete. He’s not in a hurry. He knows you have nowhere to go.

“Come on, beautiful,” Mark’s voice calls out, smooth and almost playful, but dripping with condescension. “Don’t be stupid. Just stop running from me and maybe— maybe you won’t get punished.”

He doesn’t need to walk—he could fly, could cross the room in the blink of an eye. But he doesn’t. Because this isn’t about catching you. This is about watching you break.

The silence stretches unbearably. You don’t dare move. Maybe—just maybe—he’ll overlook you. Maybe you still have a chance to—

A sudden whoosh of air is the only warning you get before the entire cabinet is ripped away like it weighs nothing. It hurtles across the room and slams into the far wall, metal screeching as it bends inward from the impact. Dust and debris rain down, and your stomach drops.

He’s standing there.

Towering over you, bathed in the dim, flickering light, his blue and yellow suit torn and stained with something dark—blood, fresh blood. His goggles reflect the destruction he’s left in his wake, but even through the crimson lenses, you can feel his eyes on you. Pinning you down without even touching you.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Awh…” He crouches slightly, tilting his head as if examining a wounded animal. “You actually thought you could hide from me?” His voice is soft now, almost affectionate.

Then his smirk widens, showing just a hint of teeth.

“That’s adorable.”