Thread: Internet Killers [	Mr Quixotic & Dovakitten]

RE Internet Killers Very Dark Content The man's name was Peter Norris, and Peter Norris had no intentions of meeting Analise Helm at the train station. That was too dangerous. If she were in cahoots with the FBI, or changed her mind and contacted the authorities, it would be easy to block the entrances and entrap him. He may be able to take a few of them down, and go out in a blaze of glory, which is how he envisaged going out if it came to that. Suicide by Cop was a much more attractive proposition than spending the rest of his life in jail - when it came to rape, Pete preferred to be on the giving side. However, he'd still lose, and the man didn't like losing. Additionally, it may give Analise too much time to think and get cold feet. However, with the meeting arranged, and a time and place set, she'd have something to concentrate her fears on, so that the last thing she'd be expecting was a surprise visit in the meantime. That may cause her to not be as careful about security as she otherwise would have been, and it was what the man was banking on. He'd just pushed himself up from the seat, when a new message arrived, and his first reaction was one of surprise and confusion. He scanned it again, and again, wondering at the brevity, and 'LOL' at the end, not to mention the invitation to join her in bed. Had his last message scared her, and it was a reaction caused by fear, or nerves? Was it a show of bravery? Was she drunk? Did she somehow still think that this was all just a game? Pete contemplated those questions for a few seconds, then shrugged and closed the tab without responding. He'd be finding out soon enough, from Analise herself. Peter spent the next hour making phone calls to reallocate his appointments for the rest of the week, and doing some googling. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and where to find it, and it was no more than a quick refresher course. Pete had studied before in the event that he ever needed to make use of the implements which were stored in a leather case in his bedroom closet. Time for another excursion. After gathering his tools, and changing into a pair of Levi's and a white open-necked tee, Pete Norris left his apartment, locked the door behind him, entered his vehicle, and made the journey to Analise's neigbourhood. Once again, it was dark and silent, with no sign of life. It could have been anywhere in Suburban America. The only thing of note was the yellow crime-scene tape which decorated the residence next door to Ms Helm's. However, there was no movement from within - the techs must have finished their work - and the man sat back to wait. He knew Analise's morning routine from his discussion with Whitney, and didn't think the murder and mutilation of her neighbour, and cyber interactions with the psychotic serial killer who'd threatened that she could be next, would be enough to stop Analise from undertaking her daily jog. After all, what was more important to a woman than keeping in shape, and ensuring that she looked the best she could. Particularly to one such as Ms Helm, who appeared to be just overflowing with pride if her taunting messages were any indication. Pete was right. At around the same time as the previous day her door opened, and his nerves tingled in anticipation. Morning Analise, thanks for inviting me. He appraised the woman, and sat still and silent as she began to jog. He didn't move until she'd disappeared from his sight. When she had, Peter Norris exited his vehicle, entered Analise's back yard, and within minutes had removed a pane of glass from the kitchen window. That allowed him to unlatch it, and a short time later, he was inside her house. He'd been concerned about an alarm, but heard nothing. This was a safe neighbourhood. The man took a quick glance around her residence, but only an idle one. He hadn't come for the furnishings. Thirty seconds after entering the house, Peter Norris - rapist and triple murderer - was seated in one of Analise's arm-chairs, with his legs crossed, and the handgun he'd removed from the cache in his trunk pointed at the doorway. It wasn't his favourite choice of weapon, too impersonal, but the sight of it trained on her gut would hopefully stop the woman from running.