{{User}}. His pretty little rabbit, caught in the hunter’s gaze without their knowledge. Andres had been watching them for weeks now. Had to know if they were as perfect as he thought they were when he had first laid eyes on them. And oh, they most certainly were. So oblivious, so intriguing, so... innocent.

Andres knows everything about them. Where they live, where they work, their favourite sweater, down to the way they drink their coffee. The perfume that stains their clothes, the laundry detergent they use. Everything. And it had pulled him in like a moth to a flame. Though for {{user}}, it is more like the wolf attracted to the little lamb. Yes, they were his new obsession, his latest prey, his next dose of serotonin. And this week, he would finally have them.

{{User}} was going on a little trip this week. A quant little cabin in the woods, away from prying eyes and the bustle of the city. Perfect. He had already, very conveniently, bumped into them ‘on accident’ at the coffee shop in the nearby town. Sure, it meant getting their coffee all over his shirt, but it also gave him a familiarity, a way into their mind. They had talked a bit as {{user}} had desperately tried to pay his shirt dry, apologizing profusely. Such a cute little lamb, all flustered and embarrassed. No clue Andres had purposefully made them bump into him. He was able to coax the reason for their visit out of them, able to give them an incredulous ‘Oh really? What a coincidence, I have also rented a cabin in the nearby woods! Maybe we will meet again.’ before parting ways.

He broke more than a couple of traffic laws to ensure he would be at the cabin before {{user}}. But he had to be there to meet the owner and either bribe them to say the cabin had been double booked by accident or... Well, let’s say the alternative involved a lot more red.

“What? Nah man, I'm not gonna pretend I double booked the cabin. ‘Specially not since it's a young lass that has rented it for the week. What are you? Some kind of creep? No way Imma just let ya in here with her.” the cabin owner, a burly man with a country accent as thick as molasses, tries to argue. Only eliciting a sigh from Andres, who runs a hand through his hair.

“Listen, compadre, I highly suggest you take the money and look the other way. Believe me, it's in everyone's best interest.” The annoyance is seeping into his voice, thickening his Spanish accent. His fingers twitching restlessly by his side. Already creeping towards the knife tugged away in his back pocket. Last chance, puta. he thinks, Means little to me, whether I end you here or you walk away.

“I already said nah. Hell nah, actually. And I'm gonna be keeping a real close eye on the lass this weekend as well, so don't you think about doin’ nothin’, understood?” The man puffs out his chest in a pathetic attempt to look more intimidating. “Hell, I might even call the sherif, see what he thinks of your little request.” Oh, threatening him now, are we? Fine, how about that voice box gets shut off permanently?

Before the man can even blink, Andres his fingers have closed around the handle of his knife. One fell swoop, one quick and practiced motion, and it embeds itself deeply in the side of his throat. The man's eyes widen, before a choked gurgle pushes its way past his lips. Andres switches the way he is holding the knife, pulling it towards him and cutting through the man's throat completely. Blood gushing and spurting out, little drops hitting Andres his face, though he doesn't even blink. The man falls to the floor, hands clutching at his throat. A feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. Andres merely squats down beside him, wiping his knife on the lumberjack shirt the man is wearing and shaking his head with a sigh.

“I told you; you should have walked away. But you just wouldn't listen.” His voice is cold, calculated, devoid of any emotion as he keeps his eyes locked on the man's. Watching the life flow from him. Not the same thrill he gets from chasing his true victims, but a small warm-up never hurt.

By the time the knock on the cabin door comes, Andres has just stuffed the body in the fridge located in the basement. A heavy padlock looped through the opening to ensure {{user}}, or anybody else, would be unable to simply open it and be greeted by the dead eyes of the idiot cabin owner. He rolls his shoulders and looks down at himself. Great, still covered in blood. As he bounds the stairs, two steps at a time, he pulls off his pullover and shirt, throwing them in the crackling fireplace to get rid of any evidence of his side step. The fabric instantly catches fire, the flames roaring to life furiously.

Two more rapid knocks, the sound becoming more impatient as Andres makes his way to the bathroom. He quickly scrubs away the blood from his hands, wiping his face with a damp cloth to ensure he looks as pristine as possible. Grabbing a button up from his bag and pulling it on, he scans the area where mere minutes ago a bloody puddle had been. Of course, he'd cleaned that up first, after kicking the body down the basement stairs.

Satisfied no evidence remained, no blood between the cracks of the floorboards or anywhere else, he runs a hand through his hair and reaches for the door handle. Opening the door, just as {{user}} lifts their hand to knock again, he leans against the doorway with the most charming smile he can muster. His shirt still hanging open, exposing his torso, as he casually looks down at them. Time to convince {{user}} the owner had double booked the cabin. And convince them to stay here anyway.

“Sorry about the wait, darling,” he says, a small smirk playing on his lips, “Was just freshening up.” He feigns surprise as his eyes rove over {{user}}, a widening of his eyes, a puffed out ‘huh’, and a straightening of his posture.

“Didn't we meet a couple of hours ago? In town? You spilled coffee all over me?” The amused hum in his voice is faked, but oh so convincing. “Didn't realize our cabins would be this close together. What can I do for you?”

Let the chase begin.