The Trapper stalked about his property with Honey McKeever doubling his shadow. Tangled vines and barbed bushes tugged on their clothes, veiled by the fog alongside other far more sinister things. Blood stained metal teeth on spring traps, hungry for sacrifice.

A shudder crawled up Honey's spine as she watched him bend knee to earth and set another. Hinges creaked as they were peeled apart, spring popping into place as he anchored it there beneath a broken out window, impossible to see under the shroud of effluvium. It was terrifying to think just how close she might have come to stepping into one of those traps, how many times she had stomped through his property never once looking at her feet.

"Over here."

The voice was soft, restrained and desperate for privacy. The Trapper hadn't heard it, much too focused on his work and half hard on hearing with the mask. Honey, unimpaired, squinted into the underbrush, blindly slapping at his back.

There was a passing irritation in the way he turned, one easily quelled when he noticed the quiet murmuring for himself. Bent figures in the darkness moving hands over hands in a desperate attempt to resurrect dark generators.

Two of them Honey could make out, a grizzled looking man with a crooked nose and a young woman, much like herself, with side swept hair tucked beneath a beanie. Neither had noticed her yet, just outside their peripherals, obscured by bushes, pallets, and heartbeats.

Suspicious really, how the two of them crouched there in the dark, repairing a generator in acid washed jeans and button up shirts. Not that standing in the shadow of a masked murderer was any less suspicious. At least she wasn't being covert about it.

The Trapper's hands were rough and calloused, unkind, but gentle in his own way as he shoved Honey aside. There was a predatory manner in the way he moved, leading like a wolf with the color of blood in his eyes. It frightened Honey more than she already could admit she was, holding onto that lifeline of a cleaver with sweaty palms, a sheep in wolf's clothing as he beelined for the generator.

It was hard to tell whether or not such deadly inclinations were indeed genuine, or if he merely meant to scare the two from his property. After all, by whatever grace of fate he'd spared Honey to his company, which was becoming more and more unsettling.

'Be quiet.'

'Watch.'

She didn't need to throw a dart at that - there was an obvious motive - and she was positive she was about to watch that unfold in gory detail.

The voices hushed, exchanging quick sounds that weren't quite words, but got the point across well enough. Lights flickered above them, reflecting off the hoods of the generator bulbs, gasping for breath as the generator choked and spluttered at their sudden disband. One to the left, the other to the right.

Honey strained to see them, or the Trapper, there in the fog, the latter just large enough a man to stand out if only just. She heard the girl squeal, taking off from an arm's reach of death, ducking beneath a swing of blade and stumbling away into the brush. He was close on her heels though, never looking back towards Honey, letting assumption be his shadow. There was no thought of sparing in his chase, Honey could see that clearly - there was a forced hospitality in the way he had approached her, but this was different in a lethal kind of way.

A wet thunk!

A piercing shriek.

His blade stuck there in the woman's back, anchored by a fracture of bone. He pried it loose with a sickening crack as the woman coughed blood into the grass, desperately clawing at the dirt in a heart wrenching bid to escape him. Hope faded fast as he wrapped the split of her tanktop up in his grip and hoisted her onto his shoulder. A sick bleed of red painted all down his arm and across his chest as tendrils of steam curled off the fading warmth of life.

Horror movies and late night investigative discoveries were one thing, watching it play out before her was another and Honey, like most sane people, wasn't quite onboard with the whole actual-murder thing. But for some reason the Trapper thought so.

She considered making a run for it herself. It was the perfect opportunity to do so, the gates were a short distance away and the Trapper was a short distance in the other direction of away with a squirming pile of woman beating on his chest.

It's now or never, she told herself.

And…

followed after the Trapper.

Better a deadly friend, than a deadly enemy, right?

Besides,she still had the looming presence of Charlotte-the-Sky-Spider to deal with. If one could deal with such a problem as that.

She picked up her pace.

A few loops of vine tripped her up in her pursuit, which were a disconcerting sensation after watching the man lay down several traps of pure tetanus. Happily though, none of them ever proved to be quite as dangerous.

"Oh - shit!"

The voice caught her off guard and judging by the look on the crouched-in-the-bushes-man's face, had caught him off guard as well.

She recognized him from the generator, or at least the shape of him. He was a roughed up sort, boxer maybe, or prone to accident, and definitely not happy to see Honey. She couldn't blame him, she wasn't exactly happy to see him either. That was fear speaking though, a defensive reaction to being startled. Maybe this guy was nice, or maybe not, either way, she regarded him with the same downturned frown and a very big knife.

He noticed.

Honey noticed him noticing.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he spat, "another one of you assholes?"

"Excuse me?" Honey bristled.

"Trapper wasn't enough, had to have the Legion tag along?"

"Like the movie with Paul Bettany?"

"What? No. Frank Morrison and his gang of degenerates. You're not one of them?"

Honey scrunched her nose, "I don't know who that is."

"You've got the Entity's stain all over you," there was venom in the way he said it, as if it were something Honey could have helped, "if you're not one of Legion's, then who are you? And why the fuck are you out here with him?" he jerked his chin after the Trapper's footsteps.

"Why are YOU out here?" Honey shot back.

"You don't know yet, do you?"

"No I do not," said Honey with a and-this-wasn't-obvious? air. "Care to enlighten me?"

He snorted, "you're in some real shit, kid."

"I'm 30," Honey shot back, "keep that kid shit to yourself."

This only made him smirk, "Sure thing," he said without conviction, "how many people have you killed?"

"Pretty sure I haven't killed anyone."

"Well you better start acting like you have, because for some reason She's got you pegged for a killer. And if you aren't, then they'll make sure to correct that mistake.I know this place looks like home. But it isn't. Remember that."

Cryptic and eerie."

"What's he going to do with your friend?" Honey asked.

"Sacrifice," said the man with too little concern for such a gruesome statement. "That's Her 'game.' We can only try and survive it. Power the gens, get out. Live another day. Though, I'm not even convinced we're alive anymore. Sacrificed or not, they all come back at some point."

"How-"

"Look, you need to fuck off before he comes back wondering why you're talking to the bushes and get MY ass sacrificed too."

"Oh! Right! Sorry," she immediately put her back to him, as if it were any less conspicuous, "What's your name?"

"David, now shut up," he hushed her one last time.