Author's note: because I'm random and always need to write down story ideas when they come to me, I give you this. I hope you enjoy!

Plot: Streetwise cop Bronx Meridian Chase escapes into the night after suffering at the hands of a brutal serial killer that she had tracked down and intended to put behind bars. Bloody, scared, and running for her life, she never anticipates that she could encounter someone that same night that would save it at all costs…

He's going to kill me! He's going to kill me! He's going to kill me!

Those were the words going through Bronx Meridian Chase's head that very second. She was going to another one of his victims…a casualty of the very man she'd worked so hard to hunt down.

Well…she'd found him but had never anticipated that the tables would turn. It had all happened so fast…one moment she was bursting into the room, shouting "police!" the next, she was gagged and hanging by shackles and chains in an abandoned cabin awaiting her own demise.

The massive headache Bronx had woken up with told her that he'd hit her. With what, she didn't know. All she did know was that her head hurt…bad.

But now, that was the least of her problems…

He'd been torturing her for the better part of the evening now. Shallow cuts adorned her body, along with burn marks and several bruises. Every time she moved, even slightly, pain would explode through her body.

Oh, how it hurt so bloody bad…

Soon, her mind told her, you won't feel it anymore…He'll kill you…then it'll be over…

"Having fun, Miss Chase?" The man asked while he twirled a long, serrated knife in his hand.

Bronx didn't answer. She simply glared at him, trying not to let him see how fucking terrified she really was. The son of a bitch wouldn't get that pleasure from her.

The man lifted up a corner of her shirt, revealing a particularly nasty cut he'd given her earlier that evening. He made a tsking sound, much like a parent chastising a small child.

"You stopped bleeding." He stated simply. Bronx held her breath as she watched him raise that knife of his…Oh, god…the blood on it, she thought, was hers…

With a malicious smile, the man used his knife to reopen the wound. Blood spilled anew down her already bloodstained shirt and slacks.

Bronx gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. He wouldn't get to see how much this hurt her, either.

The man studied his handiwork, seemingly pleased with himself.

While he did that, Bronx thought of several choice words for him and what she was feeling. It was hollow comfort, but at least it would keep her sane for little longer.

He turned his back to her for a moment, facing a long table with several rusty and newly polished instruments that didn't for a second leave their purpose unknown. They were for inflicting pain.

Bronx let her eyes widen slightly when she saw him head towards his fireplace where she knew he had hot pokers sitting in the coals.

No! No! No! No!

With horror raging inside her, he crept towards her with one of them in his hands.

The end of the metal rod was bent into an all familiar shape. It was a number 13. The same number he'd burned onto his victim's chests before he killed them.

Unable to help herself, her drive for survival took over. Bronx struggled madly against her bonds, hoping against hope they would somehow loosen or perhaps break.

The man smiled evilly. "Now the tough cop struggles."

Bronx growled at him, still struggling.

That's when she heard a metallic creak sound. Bronx tugged as hard as she could with all the strength she had left inside of her. She was rewarded with the sounds of the shackles that held her arms in the air by her wrists clatter to the floor. The ones that bound her feet parted from the floor moments later.

Knowing time was precious, she ran as fast as she could towards the door and out into the night, despite her body's protests. Rain hit her hard as she ran, but Bronx didn't care. She was free...finally.

"You little bitch!" she heard him shout behind her as he gave chase.

Bronx ran into the dark, forbidding forest at the end of the cabin's backyard. Sticks and rocks cut her bare feet as she went. A distant boom of thunder rumbled in the distance and then the whole forest was eerily quiet, except for the sounds of her and the madman's footsteps.

Even though Bronx wasn't an overly religious person, she sent a prayer up to God to beg him to let her survive this nightmare. Because if she did, she would make the man pay for what he did to the other girls and to her.

Keeping running, Bronx…Keep running! Her mind encouraged and so she did.

Just then, something white caught her eye in the distance. As it drew nearer, she realized it was a van. A sign nearby told her that she was at 'Camp Wildwood site 4.'

People! She thought, happily. There would be people here!

After all it was summertime and this campground if she remembered correctly, would be full of campers.

"Hello?" she called out into the rain. Sounds of movement came from inside the van, alerting Bronx. Quickly, she came to the driver's side window and pounded on it hard.

A face cast in shadow was behind the wheel, apparently talking to someone in the back. They appeared to hear her pounding and quickly rolled down the window.

"Hey, miss…are you alright?"

"No," Bronx said, her voice shaking. This was no time for the cop bravado she was famous for…This was the time for her to simply be a scared woman.

"Someone's chasing me…someone who wants to kill me."

The stranger immediately opened the passenger side door and let Bronx in. Quickly, she closed the door and locked it.

"Thank you…" she whispered, despite it sounding rather feeble.

"No problem." The stranger said, getting the van started.

Bronx sat and shivered, wondering just where the man was now. Had he seen where she'd gone? Probably, after all, he'd been right behind her or at least she thought he'd been.

Bronx risked a look out the window, but saw nothing but darkness and rain. Lightning struck soundlessly, illuminating the forest as best it could. Still, there was no sign of him. Finally, she let out a small sigh of true relief.

"My name is Leonardo."

She jumped, momentarily forgetting that someone was sitting next to her.

"Bronx," she answered, "Bronx Meridian Chase: NYPD Detective, Homicide unit."

"It's nice to meet you, Officer Chase."

Bronx warmed her hands by the van's vents. "You can call me Bronx. My full title makes me feel stuffy."

Leonardo, as he'd introduced himself, reached up to turn on an overhead light.

"Now, have you got any…?"

Before he could finish that statement, Bronx gasped. Before her now was a huge, blue bandana-wearing…turtle?!

"Uh…it's not Halloween yet. It's in a week."

Leonardo gave her an odd look. "Yeah, I know that…"

"Then why are wearing a turtle costume?"

"Costume?" he asked, raising an eyebrow ridge.

Bronx felt a wave of dizziness come over her. "Not…a…costume?"

Leonardo noticed this. "It's a long story I'll share with you once we get you to safety."

That was the last thing Bronx heard before she lost consciousness.