Laughter, fucking laughter. She had never let King get away with laughing at her, she'd never let anyone, and just because she was the one dripping blood on the goddamn forest floor didn't mean she was about to start making exceptions.

The noise spun her around, finger squeezing the trigger instinctively as soon as she saw a blur, a shot firing into the woods, echoing. It was close but not close enough. She was incensed, out for blood herself; she growled in the back of her throat and brought up the camcorder, using up the last of her adrenaline to keep both gun and camcorder aimed right at him. Her words grated. "Any last words, you fucktard?" If nothing else, his imminent death would make a great home movie to watch on those rainy island days.