(Thanks to LocalTalent53 and A Mosaic Masterpiece for the reviews! I really did jinx it last chapter XD Right, let's have some fun with Dalton, shall we? Read on!)

Dalton had come to the construction site fifteen minutes after he thought about Eliza, smiling as he looked down the hill towards the rusted construction. How the hell it survived all these years Dalton didn't have a clue. Shivering in the rain, Dalton started down the hill, careful of the slippery mud. A flash of lightning caught him off guard and he tumbled down.

"Fuck..." Dalton cursed, standing up and wiping the mud of his face. Looking around he saw the wall. Even that was still standing? Then he saw a black... something... on the floor. Interested, Dalton walked over then froze. It was a man, that much was certain. The top of his head was blown half-way to hell, but the bottom half was merely flecked with blood, a smile on the man's face. Dalton gagged, holding his mouth. "Jesus Christ almighty!"

As Dalton looked at the body, he realised that he recognised the clothes. The scuffed shoes. The shirt...

"Holy shit! Tom!" Dalton knelt down and all but confirmed it was indeed Tom. Looking around Dalton saw the pistol, and a conclusion immediately formed into his mind. "Couldn't handle it, eh? Don't blame you." Dalton straightened up when he saw the figure standing motionless next to the wall. He was looking... no, watching Dalton sending shivers down his spine. Then another conclusion came to his mind. Tom was murdered.

Nevertheless, Dalton took a step forward towards the could-be murderer. "Hey! Who're you? Did you do this?"

The man took a step backwards, before sprinting away. Acting on instinct, a sense of heroism, and slight stupidity, Dalton ran after the man in search of answers. As he ran, he dialled the police and the ambulance, considering that it was something serious.

XXX

The hospital was the same one in which they were taken after the explosions. Brandon and Scott stared up at the sign, before heading inside. Scott looked around to the receptionist and headed straight for her as Brandon found shivers running down his spine. Hospitals were also bad in scary movies or games. Silent Hill, Resident Evil... Hospital's were a big no-no.

"Hello." Scott said, facing the young receptionist.

"Hi, can I help you?"

"Hopefully. I'm looking for Lewis McKinley, do you know where I can see him?"

The receptionist smiled. "Lewis? He hasn't had visitors in a long time. Can I ask who you are?"

"My name is Scott. That's Brandon. We're doing a project for school about famous names of New York, and we figured you can't get any bigger than McKinley. We'll be very respectable, and won't pry into it too much."

Brandon's eyes widened slightly at Scott's fluidity of Lying, but shrugged it off. Better than just saying they wanted to research Death.

"Lewis will be happy to talk about history. He always talks to the nurses and the doctor's, although they are too busy to really talk to him."

Brandon watched as the receptionist gave instructions to Scott, noticing the breeze was coming from a fan embedded in the wall, spinning fast. He felt almost captivated, the spinning, the-

"Hey, Brandon."

Brandon blinked, shaking his head and following Scott, who had started to walk off towards the indicated direction. "Coming."

XXX

"Hey! Stop!" Dalton shouted, his shoes skidding through the mud. Managing to keep his foothold he touched across the road and ran across, narrowly missing a lorry. The man had reached across the road, where a motel stood. Cursing himself for making this harder for himself, Dalton followed, seeing the man run up some outside steps.

Leaping two steps at a time Dalton continued on, years of football barely making him break sweat. The man turned a corner, pushing past another man with a dog.

"Hey, stop him!" Dalton yelled, but the man just stared, dumb-founded. Cursing, Dalton skidded around the corner and pumped his arms, eyes concentrating on the man's back.

Climbing up another set of stairs the man continued to head towards the third floor before sprinting down the corridor.

"Why the hell're you running!" Dalton roared, closing in towards the more exhausted man.

"Go away!" The man screamed, grabbing the side and promptly leaping off. For a moment Dalton though the man had just committed suicide, until he saw him land on a balcony. Cursing himself once more, Dalton took a step backwards before leaping across to the balcony and rolling, getting an extra burst of speed from momentum.

The man had run through an open glass door, into some bodies room. Dalton found that it was actually an old woman, who was sitting obliviously on the chair watching TV. Dalton just passed and went through the door, into a padded corridor. As soon as he stepped through he was promptly clubbed in the face by a forearm, flooring him.

"Fuck me!" Dalton caused, groaning as he saw the man run away. Just as the man was about to reach another set of stairs a door opened and slammed straight into the man's face with enough force to break his nose. Bouncing back, the man landed on his back, writhing on the floor.

"Well, what do you know? I thought I heard you."

Dalton moved his hand away from his face to see Gervais smirking at him. "Oh. Great." Dalton got up and walked towards the man.

"Why are you chasing a man?" Gervais questioned, leaning across the doorway.

"I found Tom." Dalton panted.

"So..."

"With the top of his head practically missing, a gun at his side, and this guy at the scene."

"Oh." Gervais nodded understandably. "So this guy's a murderer."

"Might be." Dalton looked to see the man was actually quite young, despite looking worn. "Who're you?"

"P-P-Peter, please, don't hurt me."

"Did you kill that man?"

"I had too!" Peter gasped. "He-He ruined my life!"

"Revenge?" Dalton sighed. "I can relate to that I guess. Still, murder is murder so, you're going to be going to the police."

"No! It was self defence."

Dalton let out a sharp laugh. "That's what I'm telling the police once I get my own revenge."

"What're you talking about Dalton?" Gervais questioned.

"Self defence. Once I find the scum who killed Eliza, I'm going to plead self-defence."

"D-D-Dalton?" Peter muttered, drawing Dalton's attention. He noticed that the man had gone completely pale. "Did you say Dalton? And... and Eliza?"

"I did..." Dalton narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

Peter gulped. "I... I'm sorry... it was an accident! I didn't mean to kill her! I... I... lost control, I wasn't thinking... it was a mistake! A mistake which ruined my life!"

"What're you saying?" Dalton breathed, feeling his chest tighten. Gervais watched on, carefully keeping an eye on Dalton. His fists were clenched as well as his teeth. He had the aura of a stalking cat to a mouse. A lion to a gazelle. A killer to a victim.

"I wanted to tell you! I did!" Peter cried out. "But... my wife was more important, and I didn't want to get put away, and-"

Dalton took a deep breath. "Y-You? You... killed... my Eliza?"

Peter gulped audibly. What had started out in an attempt to be let go seemed to have escalated into something much worse. "I... It was a mistake! I didn't mean to! A mistake! Mistake!"

The last thing Peter saw was Dalton lunging towards him, fury etched into his eyes extending to the depths of his heart.