To the Dan vs. community, I am happy to say this is my next work of fiction. Perhaps slash, perhaps not. You'll just have to read on to see. I hope you enjoy and by the way keep writing glorious fanfiction so that the Dan vs. community can be so proud.

It was dark tonight, the thunder couldn't be seen but from where he sat it could most certainly be heard. The notebook clutched in his hand as he thought about so many things he wanted to write. So many fantasies about making him pay. They would find out if he did however and he knew better to even try, lest his shortened sentence be extended.

No, he only had a month to go and only his thoughts with which to document his plans. He sighed softly as he lay the notebook on his bed. Life in prison wasn't easy but it wasn't as if he hadn't been here before. He'd learned many things. People to avoid, and how to avoid ending up as someone's bitch thanks to one of the more seasoned inmates taking him under his wing during his first stay at this place. He was thankful and yet the price of such knowledge still made him shudder.

His blue eyes scanned the room outside his cell. Freedom was only a short walk away and yet these bars held him back, locked him away like an animal. Standing, he walked to the bars his hand clutching the steel door. He watched as another inmate stood over a laundry cart which was piled to the top, his movements suspicious. Leaning forward as much as possible to get a good look, he remained silent. He had seen what happened to snitches and he wasn't about to risk his life with alerting the guards.

Suddenly a lighter came into view, followed by a flame. In no time the entire cell block was engulfed by smoke and the cell doors opened automatically sending everyone out into the halls. Chaos ensued as the prisoners started rioting, and guards struggled to control the frenzied situation.

Finding his way through the crowd, he'd barely managed to avoid being knocked to the floor by those fighting and pushing around him and yet he'd managed to make it all the way to the open doors outside. The sight that lay ahead was too good to be true. The guards in their haste had left the gate unmanned. Stepping inside the booth, his eyes scanned the panels until he came to the right button. He pressed it without hesitation despite knowing the potential consequences of escaping had. He was too angry to care, too determined to let this get in his way now. There were things to be done. Once the gate opened he wasted no time in fleeing the area on foot. It would be less obvious this way rather than stealing a car, he'd decided.

"Come on, Chris! I just want you to knock him out, then leave the rest to me! Why is that so hard?" Dan grumbled, tapping his foot as he looked at Chris expectantly.

Chris couldn't believe it however. All this over a cashier that had dared to point out that they were no longer carrying Generic O's brand cereal.

Dan had taken it upon himself to directly blame the cashier as though he could have done something about it leading to the cashier taking a not so nice tone with Dan.

"Dan we're not going to knock anyone out. I mean come on! There's like a dozen brands of cereal just like the one they discontinued. I hardly see reason for argument, much less violence here."

Dan huffed and crossed his arms at this, realizing he wasn't going to be getting revenge this time.

"FINE!"

With that, he walked back to the busy cashier who was ringing up a middle aged lady and pointed a finger directly at him. "You'd better watch it, mister! You just got lucky this time, Kurt!" He warned, noting the guys name tag to which Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Please sir, don't make me call the manager again." He droned in a monotonous voice. Dan realizing he was defeated, grumbled something under his breath then stormed out the door, Chris right behind him.

Chris prepared himself for the trip back to his house was going to be a long one, giving his friend's mood.

Turning on the car radio, Chris looked for anything to drown out the ranting and finally settling on a station playing rock music until it was interrupted. 'Breaking News Bulletin! Fifteen inmates have escaped from the Los Angeles California State penitentiary! All persons should be extra careful of any suspicious activities and be sure to lock their doors and windows until all escapees have been apprehended. The list of fugitives are as follows- Seth 'the slasher' Murphy, Conroy Kazenski, Phil Warren, Da-'

Dan turned off the radio in mid broadcast angered at being ignored. "Are you even listening to me?" Dan glared at Chris expectantly.

Chris merely sighed. "Yes, Dan. For the last hundred times, the cereal company does not hate you! They probably discontinued it due to lack of sales."

Dan raised a brow. "That wasn't even what I was talking about and you know it!" He grumbled as they arrived at Chris's house, left the car and went inside.

Unbeknownst to them, a figure which had been watching the house emerged from the shrubbery with a malicious smile.

His attire was not what he would've preferred – a grungy looking off white polo shirt and some baggy jeans paired with crusty sneakers but then again a fugitive from the law had no room to be picky so long as the prison uniform had been disposed of.

He hurried off in the direction of the apartment known as The Casa Paradiso.

"Here it is, good old apartment eight." He muttered under his breath, malice in his voice. Trying the doorknob, he found it unlocked.

"Tsk, tsk, Dan. I would've thought you'd learned your lesson from our first encounter." He spoke to himself at how easy it was to let himself inside.

Getting a good look at the room, he frowned. Dan really wasn't a neat freak, was he? He thought as he decided against cleaning the place up despite how much he yearned to. No, he wanted everything to be a surprise when he finally had Dan where he wanted him.

Going to the fridge he opened it, finding a six pack of cheap beer sitting on the top shelf and took one. Running from the law tended to make one thirsty.

Drink in hand, he went to the couch deciding it was fairly clean enough before sitting. Getting comfortable, his hand dragged against something leathery.

"What's this?" He smirked at the sight of the all too familiar journal. "I wonder if he's wrote anything about me."He mused darkly as he began to read in the shroud of the dimly lit room.

Meanwhile Chris couldn't help but to find himself amused at what Dan was saying trying hard not to stifle a laugh.

"So what your saying is the reason clowns are on your revenge list is because one scared you so bad as a kid that it caused you to have an accident and left you terrified of them?" He accentuated the word accident with air quotes as he said this.

Dan looked at him flatly. "Well yes. I mean I certainly am justified, aren't I?"

Brief silence filled the room for a beat before Chris fell to the floor holding his sides in uncontrollable laughter.

"Seriously, Dan..t-that's hilarious!" He barely wheezed out, as he lay there still laughing and tears streaming down his face.

This display did not amuse Dan and he nudged him in the side with his boot, clearly insulted.

"Oh, so you find my childhood traumas funny, do you? We'll see who's laughing when you end up on my list, laughing boy." He warned noticing a sudden change in Chris's behavior as he received a nervous look from his taller friend and smiled satisfied. "That's better. You've known me well enough to know what I'm capable of, so don't taunt me. Say, where's Elise?"

Chris, sitting back on the sofa gave that bothered look that indicated Elise was off on one of those odd trips her employers so often sent her on.

"She had to fly out to Philadelphia about some kind of merger between her employers and some other company." He responded though he was beginning to have his doubts about these so called trips.

"Anyways, have you tried to keep in contact with Hortense?" He asked in that sing-song voice he always used when he mentioned her.

"Nah, we're over. She met some skater guy where she works now and that's fine with me." He huffed as he looked up at the ceiling feeling somewhat dejected about the whole situation.

"Aww, I'm sorry to hear that. Hey, do you want to watch the twenty four hour Zombie Apocalypse Marathon?" Chris put his hand on his shorter friend's shoulder only to have it shrugged off.

"Yes, and don't touch me." Came the snippy reply as the tv flickered on, garnering their attention with images of the ravenous undead.