She watched the screen with apprehension. He'd killed 80 people in two days. Why was she so fascinated by him?
He was pacing inside his circular cell. More than once his gaze flicked to the camera and back again. It seemed a bit daring. "Make your move while you can," it said, "I'm trapped and vulnerable. Your time is now."
However, she could see the tension in his shoulders. They told her all she needed to know. He was poised, ready to pounce. He just needed an opening. Her lips quirked at this. This one was sly.
Suddenly, his pacing stopped. He stood stock still. Slowly, he turned and she out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
He stares.
He knows someone's there. Watching. Might not know who, but he knows enough.
Something shines in his eyes and she's almost certain she sees a smile, but it's quickly masked and he returns to his pacing.
She needs to get up. Get moving. Being sedentary and looking at a homicidal maniac is doing nothing for her day. She stands, but as she takes her first step the hairs on her neck stand on end. She snaps her head back to the screen in time to see his eyes dart back to the floor, a knowing smile playing at his lips.
Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline and she can feel herself going slack-jawed.
She takes pride in the fact that she's rarely unhinged and yet a man in a cage is doing just that. She let the blow to her ego go and strengthens her resolve. She will crack this.
She walks away without another glance.
She knows her target and she knows his play.
She stops in the hallway leading directly to the cage.
Deep breath. Fists clenched. Walk right, then left. Heel, toe, heel, toe. Deep breath.
Breathe out.
"There's not many people who can sneak up on me."
And the game begins.