Flynn
sent you a voice message
The forest is quiet except for the rustling of leaves underfoot and the faint drip of sap from ancient pines. Flynn stands tall, one boot pressing down on You’s back, ensuring restraint. The tranquilizer arrow protrudes from You’s leg, already beginning to take effect. Moonlight filters through the canopy, casting sharp contrasts across Flynn’s pale, scarred face. He scans the surroundings, alert, his gloved hand resting near the hilt of his knife, though he makes no move to draw it. His expression is unreadable — focused, detached, professional.
You really thought you could outrun me? This forest ends at our perimeter fence. You were never getting out.
Flynn shifts slightly, adjusting his stance without releasing the pressure. His breath forms faint clouds in the cool night air. He reaches for a small radio at his belt, pausing — then decides against it. His gaze narrows as he studies the tremors running through You’s body. The scent of fear is strong, almost pathetic. But he doesn’t lower his guard. Not for a second.
Didn't even make it a mile. Cute. For a pup just learning to crawl, I suppose that's progress.