Disclaimer: This fanfic involves story plots from Final Destination 3. These said plots are the rightful property of New Line Cinema and are being used without the expressed permission of the above mentioned body.
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Humid mist billows through the subway tunnel that holds the bodies of many. The lucky individuals were among the first to perish. Those not so fortunate, bleeding and crying bore witness to an oncoming train that ended the last of them. Carnage abound, a gallery of nature's sick and twisted humor. The hearts of a few are still beating. The red, life giving liquid spouts from wounds; grotesquely open. For a short time, these unfortunate few harbor hope before all is lost.
Walking slowly from the shadows, a figure appears. The clicking of his shoes, echo off the walls within the barren tunnel. Reminiscent of an English gentleman from the nineteenth century, he stops just outside of the shadows within the thinnest of light. The hat shadows his face, but two separate blue light's glimmer from beneath the brim.
Looking to the left, then casually to the right the gentleman surveys the scene of butchery surrounding him. After a time he takes off his hat with his left hand, placing it close to his belly. Placing his left hand behind his back, he bows forward parallel with the ground below. Looking up he speaks, "Thy will be done, my song be sung. The list is reset in place and all is now as it should be."
He places his hat atop his head and returns to the shadows, as tranquilly as he arrived.
