"Fool. What is it you wish to accomplish?"
"You killed my father!"
"And you would avenge him? You do realize he never gave a damn about you, don't you?"
"Any more than you do, mother?"
"I will cut you down, Chase."
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I had to kill Elon Musk so I rampaged through what I think was a SpaceX building chasing him floor after floor until I got him. The whole thing felt like playing DOOM.
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Drunk chase around their darling just spilling every single truth or something
“CHASE WHAT THE ACTUAL FLYING FUCK DUDE I SWEAR I HOPE YOU ARE JOKING”
“Hic I admit it i hic Killed people f-for fun”
Yeah that seems like the kind of dumbass thing Chase would do lmao. He’s very blasé about everything
TW: Stalking, Obsession, mention of murder and manipulation, implied violence/kidnapping
He pours himself another drink and you force a polite smile to hide your annoyance. When Chase barged into your dressing room with a bottle of bourbon, you’d hope you’d both have one drink and maybe then he’d leave you alone to actually get out of costume and unwind after a long day of filming, but it seemed that Chase had other plans. He didn’t offer to pour you a drink, instead just leaving it on the table. Your finger traced the rim of your empty cup, trying to find a way to hint that he’d overstayed his welcome, but he hadn’t picked up on any of the previous hints.
“And then she says, I thought you loved me! Can you believe it?” Chase laughs cruelly as he recounts how he broke some poor actress’s heart. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, and give a half hearted chuckle. Internally, you’re screaming with disgust at how proud he seems to be of how he’s treated his past partners and costars. This is about the third or fourth time he’s told you about how he’s played with some unfortunate man’s or woman’s heart just for the sake of it, and you’re getting sick of it.
“After all, there’s only one person I’ve ever really loved. Like actually, not just for sex.”
“Oh?” You say, disinterested, assuming he’s going to say some other celebrity’s name before going on about how he definitely loves them and won’t just use them up like everyone else he’s supposedly loved.
“It’s you, of course,” he says, so casually and effortlessly that it takes a moment for you to realise you hadn’t misheard. You tense, looking up at him with bewilderment. There it was - the very thing you’d hoped wouldn’t happen.
“Yeah. I mean, I actually did soooo much stuff for you,” he continues as he giggles and slurs his words. “Usually I just sweet talk someone until they’re obsessed with me, but I actually went out and did things for you. Like the role you have now? I put in a good word about your audition.”
You shrink into your seat as you listen to him. You only wanted to be an extra in this film as a bit of fun - just so you could say you were technically in a film. And you’d only auditioned for the major role after the original actor disappeared because they insisted on using the pool of extras to find a replacement. You didn’t want this role at all, even less so now you knew it was by way of nepotism.
“Of course, I had to get rid of the person that originally played your character too. So that’s two things I did for you, I guess,” he adds. Your eyes widen in alarm.
“What do you mean get rid?” You ask, your voice trembling.
“I killed them - I killed them for you,” Chase admitted, his eyes alight as he said it, not an ounce of shame in his demeanour. “‘Cause then I knew I could make sure you’d get the part instead. It’s easy, especially when you’ve had practice like I have.” Chase let out another cruel laugh, seemingly oblivious to the alarm that was wracking you. You hoped that it was a bad joke, yet something in your gut told you otherwise. You shot up from your chair and dashed to the door, hoping you could find someone to help, but Chase was quicker, and he grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked you back, pinning you against the table. Suddenly, there was rage in his eyes as his face was mere inches from yours.
“And just where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post
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