Disclaimer: this is a mature story wih violence, moderately gory details, and adult themes and language interspersed throughout the story. Read at your own discretion.
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Recap
... You hear a blow land against soft flesh and bone in the nearby brush, a body thudding against the ground. That was the grunt... smart, to kill it quietly. But not quietly enough...
You swivel back around and raise your rifle once more, careful not to disturb the reeds and betray your position. Through the foliage and gnarled roots, you see a figure, hunched over and moving slowly... deliberately... a Hunter. As they creep forward and begin to wade into the water, you track their movement with the barrel of your rifle. You have a clear shot on their head now, and even if you miss, they are now waste-deep in muck and swamp water that will make a followup shot much easier to hit by impeding their movement.
Your finger lies ready on the trigger, your breathing slows to control your heartbeat, and the nerves that were once alight in your back and arms have gone quiet.
Cold... and calculated...
You're faced with a choice:
(A.) Pull the trigger and snuff another damned soul before they can do the same to you.
(B.) Attempt to negotiate a partnership with this stranger in the hopes of making the bounty fight a bit easier and leveling the playing field in case any other Hunter Pairs happen upon you while fighting/banishing the bounty.
Chapter 2: The Kid
Image Artist: @anikekirsten
Time seems to slow down. This hunter, completely unaware of your presence, is just sitting there, surveying their surroundings - waiting and watching, much like you are. Your finger, still resting on the trigger, tenses a little. Every bone in your body is saying "just shoot him and be done with it, one less Hunter to worry about!" But you wait, silently observing and assessing, to see what might happen next.
Just pulling the trigger right now would be an emotional choice, born of fear rather than reason. Let's see what the sonuvabitch does first...
So there you stay, in silent communion with this stranger. Both perfectly still, both one with the environment.
Waiting, and watching...
In the back of your mind, you know that this stranger may very well have a partner nearby. Waiting until they both pass will allow you to dispatch one and quickly retarget the other while they're caught up in the confusion of being fired upon. Taking the shot now would only betray your position to an unknown third party, and likely tilt the odds of survival against your favor. In any case, the ability to suppress that still insistent voice screaming "PULL THE TRIGGER!" is certainly working in your favor right now.
Then, you notice something: this other Hunter keeps checking behind them, throwing furtive glances in the direction from which they came.
They're alone.
A Hunter with a partner is less likely to watch their own back so diligently. Sure, there are exceptions to the rule, but for the most part, your partner is watching your back - freeing up your ability to direct your attention to whatever lies ahead of you when you're taking point. The deliberately slow and stealthy pace this Hunter is adopting along with the frequent shoulder checks is more in line with a lone wolf.
With a wry smile, you lean a bit more into the stock of your rifle, preparing for the kickback from taking a shot. You take a deep breath, and slowly exhale one last time...
"If I wanted you dead, I could've made that happen five minutes ago..."
The other Hunter flinches a bit, and then freezes. Gotcha... heh heh
"Don't suppose you've got a partner skulking 'round about, do ya?"
The stranger hesitates for a moment, then speaks up in a low, but youthful voice.
"I reckon you wouldn't be askin' if you didn't already know..."
He takes a short pause - possibly to control the adrenaline response that often causes voices to tremble when speaking.
"So what happens now? I'm guessin' you gotta gun on me, mister, so I'd say that makes you the man of the hour, don't it?"
"I suppose it does," you answer, "why don't you put your hands up where I can see 'em, then we'll see where this goes..."
The young hunter complies, raising his hands until they are both clasped behind his head. Slowly, and carefully, you withdraw from your nest. Keeping your gun trained on him, you make your approach. Upon your arrival, you find a young man kneeling in the reeds, dressed in civilian clothes with a makeshift poncho thrown over his shoulders - stained with mud and tattered. A hat with a few notches in the band rests on his head, and you notice that one of his hands is bandaged in white cloth with some old bloodstains in it. From underneath the rim of the hat, two defiant eyes peer up at you.
"What's your name, boy?"
The young Hunter snorts and spits on the ground, then looking up at you, replies with a sneer:
"Name's Jenkins. Turner Jenkins. Who the fuck's askin'?"
The Jenkins boy... I've heard tell of him. People say he was just a street rat that would start a fight at the drop of a feather then turn tail and run just as easy... until he started earning his name as a gunslinger, that is. Whispers of a dark deal he made to improve his shooting have been going 'round recently. Normally, I wouldn't buy that superstitious crap, but here we are: Hell has broken loose, the dead seem to not stay dead, and everything modern science claims has been turned on its head...
"Hey! I said: Who the fuck's askin'?"
"I've got a proposition for ya," you reply, ignoring the pert query, "what says you and I partner up for a while? The greenhorn the AHA saddled me with went and got hisself killed, and you're obviously in need of someone to watch your back out here. You help me secure the bounty from the hell-bitch I came to kill, and I'll give you 20% of the cut."
His face contorts a little, clearly displeased with the potential payout but recognizing fully his lack of position to negotiate.
"Make the cut 30%, and you got yerself a deal, mister."
Impressed by the brazenness of his response, you nod your head, and slowly lower your rifle, allowing your new partner to slowly rise to his feet. Before his hands have a chance to fall down to the holsters at his hips, you whip your own revolver out of its holster and cock the action in one swift, fluid motion, the barrel pointing right at the boy's chest.
"I've been at this for longer than you have, boy, you try anything funny and it will be the last thing you ever do, y'hear?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hears you loud and clear, a'right? You can put yer damn gun away, let's do the job and get the hell outta here."
Just as deftly as it came out, your revolver returns to its holster. You nod in agreement and turn as your new gun-slinging partner known in these parts simply as "The Kid" joins you in wading through the swampy water of the bayou, but you're left with a choice:
(A.) You take point. Your own experience and expertise as a Hunter gives your new partnership an edge over your adversaries, and years have tempered your judgment enough to make cold and calculated decisions in the heat of the moment. BUT, you leave your back somewhat vulnerable to your young and impetuous new companion.
(B.) The Kid takes point. This allows you to keep an eye on him, and he can serve the purpose of a bullet-sponge in the event of a firefight. However, he is less experienced and more foolhardy a Hunter than you are, which could put you in a sticky situation that could have been avoided.
The choice is yours, fellow Hunters. Thank you for your time and attention, I'll look forward to seeing your votes in the comments! I will leave a comment when the voting period is over, at which point the votes will be tallied and I will write the third chapter of this interactive story. The goal will be to release a chapter every Saturday (I was greatly delayed by sickness this week, my apologies!). If you'd like to be opt in/out of the watchlist, please indicate your preference in your comments!
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As always, take care of yourselves and each other, and stay thoughtful!
Your friendly neighborhood dork,
~Thinkr
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