" 'The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.' Marcus Tullius Cicero." ~Spencer Reid

You hit your targets. The man will die slowly, that's good, but the woman you can take for yourself. You'll keep her longer than the others. Now, you have something to play with because she's special. She's the start of something wonderful. You pick up the rifle and began to make your decent down the mountain. Slowly you walk into the clearing, your three victims lay still, unmoving, in the grass. You smile to yourself.

Look at the masterpiece you're making. People will see you now. Now, people will know your name. Now, they will fear you. You pick up the woman, but not until after giving one last glance to the man.

"He will die slowly." You murmur to yourself and the woman before walking towards the road. Where your vehicle is parked. This is the beginning, you think again. Over and over you replay the gun shots in your mind. The high you're on is like no other. Having someone else's life in your hands makes you feel like God. They'll never catch you. They aren't smart enough, look at what you can do. This is your game and THEY will play by YOUR rules. If not, they will also die.

By the time you are done she will be begging for her life, begging you for mercy. Your body fills with excitement as you ducktape her wrists. The games you are going to play. You can barely hold still, let alone contain yourself. You ran your hand over her slightly red cheek.

"This, will be fun." You whisper to her slowly.