The Hunt

I’m a bounty hunter, I get paid very well to do what I do. I’ve built quite a reputation for myself, let’s just say I have pretty rough methods. One time I got overzealous and broke a guy’s jaw. Anyway, when you have a reputation like mine you tend to get the dangerous jobs. Mine just happens to be hunting “the most dangerous man in the world,” that’s what they call him anyway. I’ve been scouring the streets, asking questions no one seems to want to answer. Until you break a few limbs that is. That usually gets people talking. I’ve been called to this location with an abandoned warehouse where he appears regularly. Finding him has not been easy, he’s very good at keeping himself low-key. Speaking of the devil, there is he is. A former marine, still in good shape but dressed pretty shabbily. The warehouse looks busy today, he has a lot of contacts. This might get messy which is just what I need. Long-distance would be ideal. It will cause a bit of panic at first, but if I manage to get some distance I could clear it. That’s the best way to do it, one shot. So I aim the rifle at him, I wait for his friends to go back inside. I take the shot and watch everyone scatter. Wait a minute…did he just catch it? Oh God, he’s right in front of me! One swat from his hand sends me off my feet. Feels like I’ve been dropped off a building and can’t control where I’m going. I crash into the ground. The pain is unimaginable. They set me up. I can’t believe they set me up. Not enough time to reach for the rifle, it’s too far away and he’s walking up to me. Glock 45 should do the trick. Two shots in his chest and yet nothing? He’s still moving, he smiles, the psychopath. He swats me with the same hand, sending me crashing through a brick wall. My sides burn, I think a broke a few ribs. I have to do something. I take multiple headshots but the bullets bounce off him like paper. He lifts me off the ground with one arm like a child, I try to hit him as hard as I can. These hits would drop the average man but not him. I feel his unnatural grip around my throat, he could end it quickly but chooses not to. One last shot, a blade to the monster’s eyes and he finally screams and his grip loosens slightly. With the last ounce of my strength, I reach for the Glock 45 one last time. Right in the eye, bang.

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Fiction Writer/ Screenwriter