Escaping the Hunter

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic


The story may start out a little confusing, but everything will be explained as it continues.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Bounty Hunter's Mark

Submitted: September 07, 2018

Reads: 90

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Submitted: September 07, 2018

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The Bounty Hunter’s Mark 

The harsh early morning sunlight shone through the tattered shutters, bursting into the dark room and shining over the grungy twin sized mattress that rested on an old metal bed frame, with almost as much damage as the shutters. The worst though, was the sheets. They were faded and grey, striped like prison sheets, but the damage wasn't normal. It looked like claw marks had torn through the cloth, looking like sharp, ragged claws to be exact. The bed was empty, but there was someone on the floor, twisted up in a black and red blanket that dangled from the bed. The only thing visible from under the blanket was the messy black hair of a man and the man's left hand. The hand had a tribal dragon tattoo wrapped around the wrist that traveled up the man’s arm and under the blanket. 

Eventually, the man rolled over in his slumber, causing the blanket to tumble off the bed and wrap him up in it even more. This elicited a grumble from the man as he struggled to untangle himself. After a few moments of wrestling with the blanket, the man got frustrated and simply tore, or rather, cut his way out of the blanket with some very gruesome looking nails, which on closer inspection, were well-groomed claws. After finally freeing himself from the blanket, the man stood and stretched. His muscular frame was only covered by a pair of faded grey sweatpants. His outfit left his bare chest to be seen and the full tattoo revealed, showing that it ran all the way up his arm and wrapped up around his shoulder where it ended. 

As the man stretched, the silence of the room was shattered by an irritating buzzing sound--the man's cellphone. The man turned around to pick his phone up from his dresser and answered it, putting it on speaker so he could wake up and prepare for the day as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. 

"Xachery! Where in the world are you?" The voice, a shrill, feminine-sounding male, shouted angrily from the other side of the line. "The target is on the move and you are nowhere to be found! You better get out there if you don't want to be taken out of the field! Are you even listening? XachXacheryXachery!" 

Xachery had barely been listening as the man shouted, instead stripping out of his old clothes and tossing them onto the bed to be worn another time without care of if they were clean or not. He then got dressed in a pair of old blue jeans and a plain grey shirt, before sitting on his bed to pull on a pair of boring white socks and brown work boots. "Yes Mr. Lonnie. I hear you loud and clear. I know what's involved in being a supernatural bounty hunter.." His voice was deep and raspy, as though that of a person who had been smoking most of their life, but his tone was clearly bored and uninterested. "I'm on my way out." Before Mr. Lonnie could respond, Xachery had ended the call and slipped the phone away into his pocket, before walking out of the one-bedroom apartment with his black messy hair tangled and mostly covering his eyes. He hadn't even bothered to lock up the door, as there was nothing valuable in there--it wasn't even his place. 

As Xachery walked down the sidewalk, he casually pulled his phone from his pocket. To anyone passing by, Xachery would look like any typical young adult, too busy looking at his phone to watch where he was going. However, Xachery was very aware of his surroundings, as he was watching a red dot move across the screen of his phone, alerting him of his target’s location; in fact, she wasn’t far from his current position. A small smirk crept across Xachery’s lips as his steps quickened, hurrying to catch his mark. 

The woman soon came into view, her dark brown curls cascading over her shoulders, bouncing with each step she took. The innocent look in her amber colored eyes was enough to show that she was unaware of Xachery’s presence as he approached from behind. Slowly, silent as a shadow, Xachery got closer, closing the distance between himself and his target. In one swift motion, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a needle full of sedatives, but as he moved to inject it into the woman’s pale neck, she turned to meet his gaze. Silence and tension filled the small space between his face and hers. She was the first to move, her lips quirked into a grin. 

“Oh Xachery, how lovely to see you again. Tell your boss I say hello.” A quiet chuckle punctuated her words as she grabbed the needle from Xachery, turned it against him and pierced the skin of his neck. The sedatives seeped into his veins and his eyelids grew heavy, his legs became weak and he could no longer stand. As Xachery collapsed, landing on the cold concrete of the street, the last thing he saw was the woman smirking down at him, before turning and walking away, the clicking of her heels echoing through Xachery’s head. Then his vision went black. Xachery had failed to capture his mark. 


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