† † † : Immorall + Immortall : † † †
Hunters&Trackers:
I Stood There.
My jet coat, long enough to skim the dust caked, and water damaged floor.
The plain cold slowly weakening my lungs enough, that a delayed inhale
would be a wheeze. Steadily was a necessity. I had adjourned reaction to
my fingers cramping around the weapon I held,
as I looked down at the crazed figure kneeling to me.
And he remained there, my pistol forced painfully into his throat. What could
have been a scream would sound nothing more than a whisper from him, his
breath far heavier then mine. Yet, he was still grinning at me, perfectly still,
as if he wasn't in a uncomfortable position at all. I knew I could kill him,
if he so much as twitched his hand without my consent,
I would put a hole through his neck.
I looked around, while holding my grip against his throat,
at a few scattered newspapers, and highly technical implements,
rare among citizens as normal
as he seemed to the human eye. I turned back to look down at him,
and broke the silence between us,
"You, you've been tracking us," I told him, questioning my own words,
it was clear he'd been tracking us, for as long as I'd been tracking him,
which was quite a while now, he'd been very careful with his work. I stared
into his gray-green eyes, partly veiled by his stringy, dark brown,
shoulder length hair, tarpaulin with a tan, chewed up Oscar hat.
"Well, of course," he replied in a more than raspy voice, partly because
my gun was still pushed into his neck.
I found his answer disturbing in the slightest, every other
Hunter I've encountered would never voice such
boldness in a predator's presence, nor admit to be any danger to
my kind. Cowering and whimpers are the usual routine.
"Hmm, Does it please you to know you're killing off an already dying breed?"
I questioned him, with a stern contortion.
He smiled at this, "I get paid to,"
"Don't be a smart a**..." I nearly whispered to him, and lost my pace
of breathing, "Unmistakeably you do," I narrowed my eyes at
him threateningly.
"You've killed my brother," I frowned and pulled the gun away, slightly
from his throat, a cold feeling ran through my head, lone feeling,
the thought of Micheal.
"Let me ask you this," He paused, his voice much clearer now,
and with a hint of sympathy, "just how many innocent lives
did he take before he was satisfied?"
He told me this, quite sarcastically, and I nearly laughed,
"Innocent? I know you're brilliant enough to know that not one
singular from you're breed could obtain Innocence," I lightened my eyes,
"Who is your payment?" I asked him, I knew it had to be one of
the royals, not one of them isn't afraid of Pueriles over running their
cities, also this Hunter had been using silver bullets of great worth.
"Our fine Mayor," he told me, humorously at that.
"This filth? This shack, calcified with months of dirt, Here?
You call this good payment, and Work-worthy living?"
"Filth....filth is living on the street having no where to go,
sure I've got a bit of blood on my hands, but...." He paused
and looked away, then back up to me, "It's the best situation I've been in."
"I Sympathize for you, Name?" I said it then as more of an order than a question.
"Why?" he narrowed his eyes, as if to question me,
I tore my gun from his throat and recalled it back to
it's holster, under my coat.
"I'm not going to kill you,
for I understand you intentions were not greed,
but survival, though you are built of an entirely selfish nature,
and I admire your courage," I paused, "Name."
"Bert McCraken," he replied, while getting to his feet.
"Sir, Mr.McCraken, Come with me, I'd like to show you what real innocence is,"
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