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21 February 2013 @ 10:17 am
Ficlet: A Dream of Her [Original, Teen and Up]  
A Dream of Her
Rating: Teen and Up
Original/Fandom: Original
Characters: OMC
Summary: He reflects on his work and makes plans for the future.
Notes/Warnings: 1. An earlier episode in the same serial-killer 'verse as The Prize
2. written for tamingthemuse prompt 344: murder
Word Count: 521

He stared at the news story on the screen in front of him. The headline, large and bold, proclaimed yet another “murder.” He closed the story with a disgusted wave of his hand.

Murder. Such a mundane word, so unrefined, so far from what he did. It was a word that applied to common street thugs with their petty rivalries and crimes of passion.

What he did, well, that was art now wasn't it? He smiled as he recalled the care with which he had helped her to rid herself of her imperfections, to prepare her for her moment in the spotlight.

He had hoped, as he always did, that she might be The One. But that was not the case; though she had cried and begged and pleaded so prettily, he was almost swayed. But he, above all others, must be firm in his resolve and dedicated to his craft. Once committed to a course of action, there may be no deviation.

He had tried to explain it to her, to show her what immortality he was bestowing upon her, damaged though she was. But the saved datastreams he showed her did nothing to ease her mind; instead, her struggles increased with each news story. He showed her how his craft had grown over the years, from that first girl (almost an accident really) until now, as he sought out and cultivated those who would be most worthy. She was the closest yet, but her questions were too much, not even stopping as he touched steel to skin. Asking what he wanted, promising to be that and more, anything, if he would only betray his calling.

He called the story back up and looked again at her image. Whoever captured it was very, very good; it had obviously been taken before the police had arrived to fuck up his work. This story would also be saved, to be shared with The One, once he found Her, to prove to Her his devotion.

Truly beautiful.

Reluctantly, he closed down the news feed and called up the implant’s code. Obviously, the algorithm needed tweaking; she should never have felt the need to ask those questions in the first place, days ago, that had alerted him to her suspicions. He examined the log files up, mentally reviewing the modules functioning each time she had asked an unwanted question, each time she had given him that naive, surprised look.

A few changes here and there and he would be ready to try out the new version of the program, as soon as he found the next candidate. He slowly rubbed a hand across his brow, trying to ease the tension that was building there: disappointment in her performance, in his choice, combined with the physical stress of the implant.

He reached for his pills and swallowed them dry before stumbling to the bed, falling on top of the covers and allowing himself to drift off to sleep for just a while, before completing the program updates. He dreamed of Her and when he woke, he knew just where to search out the next candidate.