Page 34 of Forsaken

"It's over, Simon," Morgan called out. "Don't make this worse."

But Simon's eyes darted wildly, his chest heaving. Without warning, he bolted toward the exit, leaving a trail of blood droplets in his wake.

Dammit,Morgan thought, holstering her weapon as she sprinted after him.He's running on pure adrenaline now. Makes him unpredictable.

She burst into the hallway, the musty air of the abandoned clinic filling her lungs. Simon's footsteps echoed ahead, a frantic staccato in the maze-like corridors.

"Simon!" she shouted, rounding a corner. "This place is surrounded. There's nowhere to go!"

His response came as a manic laugh, bouncing off the peeling walls. "Nowhere to go?" he called back. "Agent Cross, we're all trapped. Society, art, justice – it's all a labyrinth we can't escape!"

Morgan pressed on, her eyes scanning for any sign of movement in the shadows.He's unraveling,she realized.But that only makes him more dangerous.

Morgan's muscles tensed as she navigated the dimly lit hallway, her senses on high alert. The flickering emergency lights cast eerie shadows, transforming mundane objects into potential threats. She could hear Simon's ragged breathing somewhere ahead, punctuated by the sound of shattering glass.

"Give it up, Simon!" she called out, her voice echoing off the crumbling walls. "You can't outrun justice forever!"

A bitter laugh rang out. "Justice? Is that what you call it, Agent Cross? Tell me, where was justice for Mary?"

Morgan rounded a corner, catching a glimpse of Simon's blood-stained shirt disappearing through a doorway. She lunged forward and narrowly avoided a thrown chair.

He's desperate,she thought,but so am I. I won't let him slip away. Not after everything he's done.

"Mary's death was a tragedy," Morgan replied, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "But this... this twisted crusade of yours won't bring her back. It only creates more victims."

Simon's voice came from the shadows, dripping with venom. "You don't understand. Each death is a rebirth. A transformation. I'm finishing what society started!"

Morgan's eyes narrowed as she spotted a trail of blood leading to a partially closed door. She approached cautiously, gun at the ready.

"I understand pain, Simon. I understand feeling betrayed by the system. But this isn't the answer."

As she pushed the door open, Simon lunged from behind it, a shard of broken glass in his hand. Morgan reacted instinctively, using his momentum against him. They grappled fiercely, Morgan drawing on every survival skill she'd honed behind bars.

"It's the only answer!" Simon snarled, his eyes wild with pain and fervor. "My work... it has to be finished!"

With a final, desperate move, Morgan managed to pin Simon to the ground, twisting the makeshift weapon from his grip. Derik's footsteps echoed down the hall, growing closer.

"Your work is done," Morgan said firmly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "It's over."

As Derik arrived to secure Simon, Morgan caught a glimpse of her reflection in a shattered mirror. For a moment, she saw not just herself, but the ghosts of her own past staring back at her.

Morgan's gaze drifted from her reflection to the floor, where a scattered array of spring flowers lay crushed and broken. Daisies, tulips, and cherry blossoms—vibrant colors incongruous with the decaying clinic and the chill autumn air seeping through cracked windows.

She knelt, gently lifting a wilting daisy. Its once-crisp petals now drooped limply between her calloused fingers.

"Even the most carefully crafted plans wither," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Derik approached, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. "Forensics is on their way. You okay, Cross?"

Morgan stood, her joints protesting after the intense struggle. "Yeah," she replied, her voice low and pensive. "Just thinking about cycles. Seasons. Justice."

She turned to face her partner, the daisy still twirling absently in her hand. "You know, in prison, I used to dream about spring. About rebirth. But now..." She gestured to the wilting blooms. "Now I see how fragile it all is."

Derik nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Nature doesn't care about our timelines, does it?"

"No," Morgan agreed, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Neither does justice, really. It moves at its own pace, leaving both victims and perpetrators in its wake."

She let the daisy fall, watching as it joined its fellows on the grimy floor. In her mind, she saw not just flowers, but the faces of all those affected by Simon's twisted quest—the broken and the resilient alike.

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