The motel room was dark, no light except for the television screen. Eric was laying in bed, absently watching the screen, thinking. Next to him, a naked whore lay breathing softly. After a minute she turned to him.
"The night is young, you wanna have another go?" She touched him ever so slightly between his legs. What the hell, he had the cash, why not?
"Sure, let's-" But before he could finish, he noticed a face on the television. his face. They were looking for him. In the dim light, he could see the whore's face as well, she knew.
"Ok, why don't you just lie back..." She trailed off, and he saw her reach towards her discarded pants.
"I don't think you want to do that." She looked up at him, feigning innocence.
"Do what?" she reached into her pockets and grabbed a cellular phone.
"That." She tried to jump up, but he was faster. He caught her in the belly with a crescent kick, laying her out across the bed. A second later his hand was clamped over her mouth. She tried to shout, but to no avail.
"So, you were gonna turn me in were you? Sorry gal, but i've survived a lot better- or a lot worse- than you!" Then, in a practiced move, he snapped her neck. He stood up and looked at her dimly illuminated body. She looked almost peaceful. He hadn't caused her pain, she'd deserved that much, but trying to turn him in warranted death in his book. He reached under his pillow and grabbed two folding knives. After redressing himself, he slid the knives into two "pockets" he's sewn inside his sleeves and left the motel, the dead whore's corpse still warm.

Morte di Manchurian was sitting on Flight #2985 Manchurian Airlines waiting to massacre the last family in association with the death of the great Banktsu when he heard a gun cok. Since he was in a private section of the Airliner that sound [B]HAD[\B] to mean it was for him. There was a slight flicker of light and the door to his cabin slowly opened revealing a bruiser with a large scar adorning his face. The man scanned the room with his eyes, but to no avail. He took three steps in and heard another gun coc. He turned around, his eyes widening, and then the light flickered and a shot was heard throughout the plane followed by a thump.
As the lights went back on, Morte di Manchurian wiped his blood-drenched face with annoyance. "So, he's not as stupid as he seems...All the more satifaction for me..." he said with a loud blood-curdling laughter follow up. Quickly he grabbed the bruiser by the legs and dragged him into the janitorial closet. Two footsteps were heard speeding to Morte di Manchurian's private sector. As the doors opened two crudely dressed guards found Morte di Manchurian laying down on a couch provided by the Airline. "Is everything alright here?" said the first guard. Morte di Manchurian pretended to wake up. "Wh..at? Get out of here I'm trying to sleep!" he yelled. The two guards stumbled backwards out the door. "That's right..." he laughed "- Nothing will stop me."

((I can't post right now, but I will sometime before tomorrow.))

Kevin Heyman had lain in jail for 3 months. He was stuck in solitary confinement, which he preffered. He had been sentenced to 15 death sentences for his actions, and until the day of the needle came he would spend all day locked alone. That was weeks ago of course, Kevin had since engineered a daring escape that freed dozens of dangerous criminals into the Washington D.C. area. Now he had one goal in mind, he had to escape America at any cost...but he'd need help. This time he'd gather people who could help him much more so that he wouldn't have to do everything himself. The inmates had spoken of a man whom he compared to Christopher in his mind (Bates' old character, I'm going on the timeline that he gathered everyone but failed.) "Target one, Eric." He had stolen an old black trans-am for old time's sake and with it he took off in Eric's direction.

Eric had discovered it almost by accident, but when reviewing his well-hidden electronic trail, he had quickly realized someone had found him. He doubted it was the police, they were far too sloppy. It could be someone with a job, or it could be a hit squad. The funny thing was, he'd welcome either, he needed to relieve some stress before he killed the next person who shot their mouth off (or almost, as in the case of the hooker). So, somebody had rascaled up his records and knew where he was, could probably track him to a mile radius. This wasn't a problem, in fact, it could be fun.
He walked into the nearest motel, and rented a room for two nights. If his shadow hadn't shown himself by then, he wasn't worth it.

Ryan stood up quickley. He grabbed a jacket and a bag of belongings and logged off his computer. He was aware they had been on the way, driving towards his apartment at full speed. When he heard the car screech, he quickley took his back-up files and shoved them into his bag. He could hear the bashing at the main door even from upstairs.
He took a baseball bat, and destroyed his computer to the point where each piece was no larger then a baseball. He heard the men speaking outside of his door, down the hallway. As he ran to his window to escape, the speaker phone emitted a voice.
"Stay where you are!"
They knew which room he was in already! He heard them approach, closer, closer..Bang! They were at his door! He had to get outta there quick, but there was no escape. As they began to knock down the door, Ryan grabbed his gun.
He refused to go to jail, not after all this. Aiming his gun into the center of the door, he hastily pulled the trigger. Men began to yell, and he heard a body thump into the ground. He shot several more times, not allowing the other men to pull their guns. Soon, there was only silence from the outside of his now full-of-holes door. He burst out from it, and shoved the gun into his belt. Carrying the bag with him, he jetted out the back door and into the bushes.

Yeah, his name was Jetman, and he had no doubt earned it.

(Im in the Dominican Republic Ill post when I return)