The heartbeat was getting louder, you couldn't even overthink your moves as much due to what was happening. You didn’t look back, with a bit of hope, you were thinking that the killer would've lost track of you. You couldn't even tell who they were, you never faced them before, so why even bother at the moment?? You vaulted over a window, ducked behind a wall that kept you well sealed off for now, and forced your breathing to quiet down. Blood pounded in your ears. You were sure you were about to be caught. But just then, you felt a hand grab your arm. “Shh,” Someone hissed, pulling you down low behind the wreckage. You nearly swung, but your eyes locked onto a face you thought you recognized. Hoodie. Mask pulled halfway up. Panting. Human. “Easy,” He said, his voice low, urgent. “I saw you running. Almost didn’t catch up in time.” Before you could even react to this, no, he didn't look like the killer. He looks like one of you. You don’t question it. There's no time. Together, you crouch in silence, shadows flickering from the dying light of a nearby generator. The killer’s footsteps fade into the distance. And yet... something feels wrong. He doesn’t look scared. He hasn’t spoken again. He’s just watching you. The silence grows heavier, thicker than fog. You turn to thank him, but his eyes are already on you. Cold. Calculating. Then you see it. A flash of something metal beneath his jacket. The tip of a knife, stained dark. And only then, he spoke “You run well,” He spoke in an almost too calm demeanor, as if it was something oridnary. “Most people scream by now.” He rises to his feet, slow, deliberate, like he’s not in any kind of rush. The chase is over. The act is over. And so is your illusion of safety. The mask comes down. The switchblade flicks open with a click. Frank Morrison smiles. That sharp, dead-eyed grin reserved not for strangers… but prey. “Let’s see how long you really last...”