A/N: This is just a one-shot about ... uh, the title says it all. Heh heh. I guess anyone who reads this will know why this fic was written. Inspired by Mr Fabulous' amaing resemblence to Mickey Knox in 'Natural Born Killers'. Really! Check it out!

He was close now. He could smell the blood. Her rising panic was as sweet and thick in the air as perfume.

The excitement was almost a tangible thing, as loud as the band of blood in his brain. There was a flicker of movement between the trees ahead, and he shifted the double-barrelled shot-gun to the other arm.

Mr Fabulous cackled madly.

"Run, run little rabbit, run!" he called to her, voice high and mad.

He took off at a gallop through the trees. Crashing through the autumn foliage, eyes circling madly in their sockets for any sign of his target.

Deep shadows and silver moon light might have inspired doubt in normal mortals, but Mr Fabulous had a predator's senes for hunting. Sight was only part of it.

At last he spotted her. Just a twitch of leaves to his left, a sigh of expiring breath. Mary-Sue had at last faltered.

With a gleeful war-cry, Mr Fabulous lunged towards the rustling leaves, cocking and firing the shot-gun in mid air.

The shots were like thunder. The thin wail Mary-Sue let out as the first bullet took out the entire left side of her chest was unheard. The second shot sliced through her neck, shredding arteries and nervous cords as the bullet expanded, blowing out the back of her skull with a wet CRACK.

Mr Fabulous waited until the ringing in his ears had subsided. He was whistling 'Sweet Home Chicago' under his breath when he stepped foward through the bushes to check his target. Mary-Sue was sprawled on the forest floor, eyes darting, searching hopelessly for an escape. She was lying in a pool of her own blood and descimated organs. It would be mere seconds before she was dead.

His footsteps squeclching on the bloodied folliage, Mr Fabulous came to stand over Mary-Sue. He chuckled, and raised the shot-gun to his shoulder. Pink froth bubbled up from her ruined lungs as she tried to scream. Red drool poured from her mouth, muffling what little sound she was capable of.

Mr Fabulous sighted down the barrel. Right between the eyes.

"Those brothers are mine." he told her, voice dropping to a growl.

There was another whip of thunder. Thick brain tissue erupted from the back of her head.

Looking down at the body, Mr Fabulous smiled to himself. He slung the gun over his shoulder, safety on, and stalked back off through the forest.

The trailing notes of Sweet Home Chicago reached Mary-Sue's warm corpse. But she wouldn't be singing this time.

She had been silenced.