Rainsford stepped back slowly, a cocked pistol in his hand. He had found the small firearm in Zaroff’s nightstand. The general started to grin, a strange wild smirk that resembled a mad man. That’s exactly what he was, a mad-man, wicked to the core.
The room went silent, the only audible sound was the dripping of Rainsford’s clothes and the light breathing of the men. Zanoff didn’t call for aid from anyone in his personal army. This surprised Rainsford, but he soon realized that if Zanoff was found dead, he'd be killed on the spot by any of the general’s trannies. But he didn’t care, without guidance from the general, Rainsford doubted that any person in training would be able the track him ...view middle of the document...
However, Rainsford was no fool; he had glanced down on purpose. As his body turned to observe the nightstand, the loud clap sounded from his firearm and a bullet sliced through the general’s left leg. Rainsford expected him to fall, wince, or ever glance at the wound that now gushed with crimson blood the sprinted onto the cold, solid concrete floor.
Zanoff just widened his twisted, sick smile and he even had the nerve to laugh. It was a strangely soothly sound, like fresh chocolate. This only irritated Rainsford further, repulsion sparking like a fire for this creature that had the nerve to call himself human.
Both Zanoff and Rainsford had their guns raised as they stalked one another and each gun was aimed at the opponent's vital areas, but neither of them fired, they were waiting for another opportunity to spill blood. The chase finally happened as Zanoff walked under an oil lantern. Rainsford fired, but not at Zanoff, Rainsford shot at the lantern about his head, just about the oil container. But, again, to Rainsford further aggregation, Zanoff didn’t react besides to sneer and giggle as hot oil poured around the room.
“No more games my dear sir, let’s made things interesting, my dear Rainsford.” Zanoff suggested mockingly, pulling a small object from his pocket. Fire soared around the room as the lighter hit the oil, trapped the men inside a ring of fire. Alarms were screeching and wailing, but the men in that ring of fire didn’t care, all that mattered to them was the hunt.
The fire licked its way up the walls and proceeded to catch the building on fire like it was dry grass, hissing and biting as it ran up the walls and across the heads of the animals and people Zanoff had...