"Trying to kill me didn't work out very well did it?"
Melissa looks around her, composing herself, she looks over to Nixon. "Where are we?"
"A theme park."
"I thought... I killed you."
"You almost did... but I don't trust anyone. Not even my own friends. My guard is always up for any situation, which is why you are here. Does your neck hurt?"
"Yes..."
"Might bruise. I disarmed you and then choked you out with my belt. I almost killed you but I made sure to release it just before your windpipe fully shut so you could pass out."
"Why have you taken me here?"
"To ask you a few questions."
"Right... ask away then." Melissa tries moving, but she is bound tightly by ropes. "Not like I have much of a choice in rejecting your questions."
"Okay..." Nixon pauses, thinking of a question, and looking down below.
"I just realized we're on a Ferris wheel."
"Yeah, had to make sure that it stopped us at the highest point for 30 minutes just in case."
"What do you mean?"
"Snipers." They both pause for a second, Melissa looks confused.
"Do you know who I am?"
"No."
Melissa's eyes widen in surprise. "Isn't that why you're concerned about snipers?"
"First question."
"Don't ignore me."
"Why did you try and kill me?"
Melissa considers what she's going to say next. Staring into Nixon's cold eyes. "For the hell of it. I thought it would be fun."
"Why would there be snipers coming after you?"
"My friends and I have gotten into the hitman business and accidentally got involved with a gang called the Escravos and now we're here."
"Slaves..." Nixon pauses, scratching the side of his chin. "Why would they call themselves that?"
"The guy who rules over them. We tried to kill him. He's the reason, he referred to his men as slaves." Melissa stares out the carriage their in. "I could've sworn that I put a bullet in his head."
"What was his name?"
"Didn't have one. But he did have a title. He was called Capitan, but would refer to himself as El Presidente."
"I've done some research and... you've played with lava."
"What?"
"That man can't die."
"Right... that's what they all say, but it always turns out to be some sort of fiction bullshit and it always starts because they were crazy lucky."
"You're right, but that's not what I mean by 'can't die'. I mean he can't be killed. His followers are too devout."
"How devout?"
"They would die for him, but you already know that. Plus it isn't too surprising. What is surprising is when one of his men walks into an enemy encampment, i.e. a fucking orphanage, and just because one of them had parents that were killed by him long, long ago and murdering everyone inside including themselves, all because of one order."
"Excuse me?"
"In 1995, before the Escravos was created, he went on a murder spree throughout all of North America murdering 37 people. Some of those people he killed had parents. Let me clarify, he does this often, where he will completely distance himself from an organization he creates, to kill then goes back. He will then hire people to erase any leftovers he had. So if someone he murdered had a child, he would order someone to kill everyone involved with the child and the child themselves." Nixon pauses. "You have messed with pure evil... But if you were just planning on killing me on a whim, you'd probably get along fine."
"I don't kill kids..." Melissa clicks her tongue. "How do you know all of that anyway?"
"I research into potential enemies. If they were Russian or not, they would fear me, especially Germans, it wasn't just my shooting skills that scared them though. It was that they never knew I was there. I never really shot many people much during each war, I would gather information. Especially information of people after Seth and I."
"What the hell are you talking about...?"
"No... I'm just venting." Nixon lets out a long sigh. "Your friends won't be hurt."
"Okay... I'm happy but why bring that up?"
"Well, if you were after Seth and me, we'd have to kill all of you."
Melissa scoffs. "I'd like to see you try! You say it like it'd be easy! They are trained and shit y'know!?"
"Yeah... we could kill them pretty easily."
"What are you even planning?"
Nixon sits in silence for a couple of minutes. "Revolution. As I said, we aren't going to kill your friends since you aren't apart of anyone chasing us. We really don't want anyone else knowing any more than they should."
"Revolution'... are you going to let me go?"
A gunshot, ringing, and shaking all around them. Birds flying away by the abrupt noise. Melissa's body slumps over lifelessly, blood pouring from her head and nose, spreading across the ground. She falls, creating a loud thud and shaking the carriage.
"Such a beautiful woman too."
"Where did Melissa go?" Logan asks, loosely hanging from the door to the girl's room. Svilanka shrugs, and Yua ignores Logan. Logan jumps, spinning to look behind him, Seth tapped him on the shoulder, which startled him."Nice to meet you all... can we talk?"***"Are you on the phone right now?" Caçador ignores Maid, turning around in his chair, continuing to speak to whoever he is on the phone with. Alina comes in from the outside with a broom in hand, setting away some dirty shoes she was wearing aside near the door. Alina notices Caçador and looks over to Maid expectantly.Maid shrugs, curiously heading to the hotel rooms.After a couple of minutes, Caçador hangs up. "Shit...""Who was it?""It was the boss. He's coming."Alina drops the broom, eyes widened in surprise. Her surprise turning into a grim expression, looking as if she were anemic."Fuck me..."***An hour has passed si
Somewhere else in a different part of the world. A Volkswagen drives up to a motel in the middle of a desolate desert.Nevada, Las Vegas.A man comes out from the car, he's wearing a hoodie with a coat layered over it with fingerless gloves. He has long greasy black hair, he has a long scar going from his beard to his eye. He licks his dry lips and continues limply to the back of his car, opening the trunk. He takes something from the trunk and heads to the main counter to the motel.A young woman wearing a red sweater sits at the counter, she appears to be chewing on a piece of gum. The young woman notices the man and asks why he was there."Do you know an Alpha and Artego here?"She confirms that the people he is referring to are at the motel and are living on the second floor, three rooms down. The man thanks the woman, heading back outside and up the stairs.He knocks on their door. The sound of panic, frantic yelling, and thudding, like
"So she was killed by a sniper?" Yua asks Seth."Yes," Seth pauses, scanning the room. "I want to ally myself with all of you. Help you get this ебарь off your back." (ебарь means cunt-chaser in Russian.) "Our reasoning for wanting to ally with you all is for one reason and one reason only. We want to do a clean sweep against all of those who want me and my buddy Nixon dead.""What do you mean by that?" Logan cuts in."Before I tell you more, there is someone very dangerous coming to the hotel and is after almost everyone's head. The only ones I know for sure aren't being hunted is," Seth points at them."Wait, so that means...""Nixon and I are being hunted by multiple people, either to capture us or kill us. Escravos is here to kill us, and someone named the Balrog is here for the same reason, the government is here to capture us and or take what we have from us.""Wait! The government!?" Svilanka yells, startled by what he said and sort o
Nixon... he never managed to hit Balrog. His reactions were too fast and perfectly distributed the damage so he wouldn't get hurt. Nixon couldn't do anything but curse under his breath.BANG!!A gunshot through the wall, Balrog drops to the floor, firing back into the wall beside him. Another gunshot rings out from the other wall, dropping Balrog to the floor completely, unable to fire back, he puts pressure on his wounds."Finally found a fucking fault."Both Seth and Johan from room 104, both on behind both sides of the hallway's walls. Seth runs out of the room, firing the rest of the magazine into Balrog. "Where did the other shot come from?"Nixon shrugs, kneeling down to Balrog, looking through things he had. "This was too easy...""Yeah, compared to last time it was too easy.""Why...?Nixon's eyes widen, he's realized something. He quickly turns around to tell Seth...It was a realization that was almost
"I will now tell you everything that you need to know." Three people are gathering in this room, a glass wall separating them from the rest of an office filled with people. A woman and a man sitting in front of another man's desk. This man is a famous detective by the name of Vanity Brown. A title that he gave himself to make himself seem like a crazy person to most, helped him not be noticed by unwanted people. A man who has been following the entire situation between everyone in the hotel since he was nineteen years old.This man and woman sitting in front of him are the people who interviewed both Nixon and Seth, including multiple people who were still in the hotel at the time. Their names are, Lory Fasbender and Kirk Bradley."Are you ready? This is gonna take a while.""It's fine," Lory says, preparing a cigarette."Alright then, let's go." Vanity adjusts his collar. "The date in which both Seth Alpheus Hunt and Nixon Driver were born is unknown. It
A dimly lit room surrounded by darkness. Three people sit in this room, two of them passed out in chairs, hands tied behind their backs and feet tied to their chairs. Yua, Logan, and an unknown man with long black hair and sideburns. He has a coarse face and is considerably large.Yua is the first to wake up, quickly scanning the room and making sure not to panic. She is confused though. She notices Logan and wonders how they got there, showing immediate concern for the mysterious man with them, her worry wasn't directed towards the man though, she was worried about what this man could do to them. She stops worrying when she realizes his hands and feet are bound like Logan and her.Yua looks over to Logan and shouts, "LOGAN! WAKE UP!"Logan jumps up in his seat, startled by the sudden loud noise, immediately bringing his attention to Yua. "What's going on?""I have no clue."Logan looks over to the other man, still sleeping. "Who is he?""I
Nixon, covered in his own blood, Seth over him in their room, trying to fix his wounds. Taking out the bullets through cutting open a bigger hole and using pliers to take the bullets out.Nixon screams in pain with each pull, blood pouring over Seth's hands."FUCKING HOLD IN THERE NIX!"Seth sloppily pours alcohol over Nixon's wound, pouring another layer of peroxide over it. Nixon thrashes about wildly, kicking Seth in the process. Seth grits his teeth, holding the pain of being hit in, trying his best to hold Nixon down."STAY STILL!" Seth gives a good sock in the jaw to Nixon, knocking him out instantly.Seth sits in silence for a couple of seconds, trying to catch his breath. "Now I have to sew his fucking wounds..."Someone knocks on their door, coming in without hesitation since the door was unlocked.Eremita comes in, "Do you need my help?"Seth calmly turns around. "What?""I'm tired of the screaming and you guys
Let's go back nineteen years.In Italy, July 1st, 1979.Andreas Valerius Hunt was born. At around five years old, his parents figured out that he was prone to fighting, frequently trying to prove himself to be the strongest kid within his primary school. He started school early so he was one of the youngest in his class, but that didn't stop him. Two years into primary school, he was expelled.He got into another school, he was also almost expelled from this school as well but managed to make it into secondary school, where he spent most of his middle school life fighting and getting stronger.Since his parents were tired of having to deal with the trouble he brought to them through constantly fighting with the students in the school, they decided to put him through a boxing program. In only a year, he was able to become the strongest in the gym.Let's clarify. Andreas's strength never came from pure unadulterated strength alone. He was extremely i
Bloody spit pooled under Nixon's tongue, spitting it out intermittently as he stares down at the half-dead Palach, knuckles facing the floor whilst palms are pointed towards the ceiling. Blood streams out from Palach's broken nose, knuckles scraped and bloodied, Nixon's face bruised - his top brow cut open, blood staining one half of his face. Nixon goes to grab his gun but stops himself, deciding to leave instead of wasting any more time on Palach.Seth careens into a wall while running back to Nixon, "We need to find a different exit!" Seth screams as he presses his back to the wall beside him. Nixon presses his back against the wall as well, revolver in hand. Seth glances at Nixon for a second before looking back down the hallway he just came through from, "You're looking worse for wear.""That fucking Russian was strong." Nixon sneers as he lowers himself. A crashing could be heard through the wall they've got their shoulders pressed again. Seth jumps away from the
"Hey! We got a job for you!" A man yells, his form obscured by a shadow in a doorway. He throws a note onto the ground and it slides towards someone else, who of which is curled into a ball in the corner of the room. An older man, cold dead eyes, unkempt, wearing a dirty wifebeater with torn pants. "You gonna do it?""No choice, why give me an option." The unkempt man says, standing up, still situating himself in the corner of the room. His eyes are attracted to the note, reading the two names scrawled upon it. "Seth Alpheus Hunt," and "Nixon Driver." The unkempt man stares at the note for a moment before looking back at the man propped against his room's doorway. "Who are these guys?""We just want them dead, don't ask questions. You'll have Snake come with you, is that alright?""That's fine."The unkempt man lets out a sigh, "Are these the guys who stole that Mafia's gold?"Before the man in the doorway leaves, he stops midway before turning bac
New York, April 1912...Seth, scars running across both of his cheeks, resting comfortably under closed eyes sits in a velvet chair, legs crossed over one another, a black dress suit covering his body. An older man with curly black hair, grey strands appearing here and there, a curled black mustache sitting above his lip. Hands in their pockets, they seat themselves behind a desk, sipping at a glass of whiskey. The older man sighs before placing the glass of whiskey down before him. "So, you're the one that had my gold?" The older man asks, eyebrow arched as he leans over his neatly carved desk.Nixon walks into the room with a casual saunter, grabbing a chair in the back corner of the room and sitting it beside Seth, placing himself down into it. Seth nods, "Yes, I and my compatriot here, including a few others have procured your gold with me."The older man nods, "I should introduce myself - My name is Falcone Russo, you are?""Seth, just Seth."
"Jesus Christ, look at this." Seth hands a newspaper he had in his hands to Nixon sitting beside him. Nixon's eyes widen, screwing up his nose in disgust."What happened?" Citlali asks, sitting on a tree stump whilst polishing her rifle."Some guy and his family were massacred, wife and child raped then tortured while the husband was apparently skinned alive. There was a witness but for some reason, he can't speak." Seth pauses, 'They don't know what traumas and PTSD is yet so I have to keep quiet about that.' Seth thinks to himself, his expression becoming progressively sourer and sourer. "I..." Seth stops himself, shaking his head, 'They'll just think I'm crazy if I go on.'Nixon tears the newspaper to shreds before putting his hands to his face, "I'm not reading that anymore... I don't want to be mad today." Nixon sneers, standing up and leaving, "I'm going for a walk."Citlali's expression becomes sorrowful, "How could someone do such a thing?"
Scratching metal, two long knives being brought together and dragged across the flats of each blade. Palach lets out a boisterous laugh as he places the knives down onto a table, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, making sure they barely touch the backs of his elbows. Palach blows air from his nose, looking over to two men screaming in chairs with a scowl. "You'll tell me yes? Where they go?" Palach's expression becomes friendly, taking gags out from the men's mouths, distancing himself."JESUS FUCKING CHRIST LET ME LEAVE PLEASE!" Tears run down the man's cheeks, "I JUST WANT TO SEE MY FAMILY!""Тупица." Palach snarls, "I will let you leave if you tell me where gold is."The two men, one with a messy ponytail and dark brown hair while the one next to him wears a short beard and short hair, pitch black. The man with black hair stares over at his compatriot, eyes like daggers, "Don't you fucking tell him shit!"The one with dark brown hair squeals, glancin
Seth gets up and shakes Marshall's hand before sitting back down, "Nice to meet you, Marshall," Seth pauses, pointing at the man in black behind him, "Who's that?""Preston Scott, that's his name." Preston nods, bowing slightly, out of politeness.Seth nods, "What are you guys doing out here?""Looking for something." Marshall puts down a blanket and sits down on it, Preston remains standing."What are you two looking for?"Marshall chuckles, "Well, you and your compatriots actually," Marshall quickly shows both of his hands before they could even do anything, "We aren't here to kill you - you don't have to worry about that.""What are you here for then?"Marshall scratches his chin, "We're here to see if we should bet on you or not."Seth raises an eyebrow, "What?""We're apart of an organization that bets on if someone will either get caught within a major crime or not. It's called Dice24.""So you gamble on who
"How many more bounty hunters do you believe have been contracted?" A man covered in darkness asks from the shadows, hands in their pockets, part of their form shown by a small snippet of light. In front of this man stands a young man wearing white, lighting a cigarette, blowing smoke from his mouth, hair slicked back - black."Discounting Hunter's group, thirty others.""Those Mafia fucks really want that gold huh?""Retards, thinking that the bounty hunters wouldn't try and take it for themselves.""What makes you think that'll happen?""Of course it'll happen.""Question.""Hm?" He takes a long drag from his cigarette, "What's up?""How do you think they're transporting that gold? Wouldn't it be too heavy to be transported quietly?""Theory is that they thinned out the gold into little transparent sheets that are only visible through its gleam as the sun shines down upon it.""Would they even be able to fit the
The sound of gunshots coming from outside the small town hospital Tsuki is in, sitting near Vincent while staring directly into the doctor's eyes, hand on the hilt of his blade, doctor's hand over the grip of his revolver, Vincent laying quietly between them. In but a moment, Tsuki's katana, in one quick movement, takes off the doctor's arm before being able to take out his gun. The sound of steel cutting through flesh and bone with the subsequent screams puts Tsuki off, but he quickly steels himself, getting out from his chair as he watches the doctor writhe on the floor in pain, clutching at his missing arm.Tsuki takes a deep breath crossing over to the door of the room their in and lowers himself, blade at his side, ready to slice through muscle fibers and tendons. Tsuki shifts his free hand over to the gun on his head, gripping it and pulling the hammer back.The door is kicked open, flying into the wall and causing a dent in it. Two men sprint through the door, g
"You gave him to the doctors?" Seth asks, leaning on a table, surrounded by chairs. They're in a small-town bar, using their time there to relax. Nixon sits in one of the chairs and Seth follows, sitting across from Nixon."Yeah, that Vincent guy.""What about the dude with the mask?""You forget his name?"Seth chuckles, "Yeah.""I gave him to the girls, they're staying in the forest with him by the hip, best that way, don't want to cause suspicion.""Is Tsuki staying with this Vincent fellow?""Yeah, he's with the doctor right now."Seth scans the bar - A young woman with short black hair, a scar running across the lower part of her eye - she wipes down cups and bottles clean with a rag behind a counter, she's the bartender. Two others sit on stools sipping at large jugs of beer, their hands tensing as they raise it to their lips due to its weight. One's face is rough, light scars darting across it including the signature sco