Post by seajay on Dec 13, 2016 8:10:47 GMT
It was a good job. He though while practicing flicking his extendable baton out of his pocket. He was a Bounty hunter. It wasn't so glorious as it sounded, but people would go to court, get a date, and then skip bail. It was his job to track these people down and make them show up for their dates with the courts. For the most part it wasn't dangerous, people were just unable to get work off or something. It was hard to get by, and it was even harder when you owed the local government money. It was a good job, and he had not run into any trouble yet. He ate out for lunch everyday, bought his own apartment, and even was able to avoid the leaky district most times. Today he had tracked his skipper down to his cousin's home. He felt his heart rate begin to climb as he knocked on the door. You never knew what was going to come answering. He had been working in the field a long time and all sorts of people with all sorts of body mods were hard to wrangle. The wolf pointed his ears up and stuck his baton in his pocket. He had found simply being intimidating got most of the job done. The door opened.
"Can I help you?" asked an angry voice. The doberman had a scowl on his face.
"I'm here to talk to a Jacobs Skye." Responded the wolf. "He had a date he didn't show up for."
"I think it's best you be going." he commanded. The doberman lifted up his shirt showing a pistol that tucked into his boxers. Now the wolf never knew why people did that; kept a loaded gun pointed at their nuts that is. He was not fond of guns himself, as dead skippers didn't pay. But, this was not his skipper. His skipper was a Jackal with a cybernetic eye. He reached forward and grabbed the butt of the other man's pistol and, finding the trigger, fired, blowing lead out the dog's ass. Blood and fecal matter covered the floor behind him. His left hand gave a push, helping the Doberman stumble back. He drew the doberman's weapon the rest of the way out and put another well placed round through the dog's chest. The dog crumbled into a head atop his own bodily juices. In the home there was only one hallway to go down, so he followed it, passing closed doors until he reached the kitchen. The Jackal was behind a dining room table. He picked up a chair and hurled it at the skip tracker. The leg of the seat connected with his solar plexus. He was knocked back into the wall. The clatter of gun plastic hitting tile told him he had dropped his recently acquired firearm. The jackal rushed forward and grabbed the wolf by his shirt. He could not breath. It was a fucking lucky shot. He grappled with the Jackal. A big push and he felt his head slammed against the wall. The warm feeling of blood trickled down his neck. The wolf was losing. Six years and this might be the end. No! He pushed back with all his might bracing himself against the wall. He kneed the dog in the stomach. Slam, his skull met the wall again. it was no use, the dog was stronger than him. He reached up and tried to press his finger against the Jackal's real eye. Boom, the sound was deafening. A lone gunshot rang through the room. Mr. Jacobs fell lifeless to the floor. Blood poured from his neck as his lifeless eyes stared down the corridor. A woman, feline stood in the kitchen. She was shaking, clutching the doberman's pistol, the one he had dropped. She lowered the weapon horrified by what she had done.
"I... I... was trying to shoot you." She told him. Her broken mind tried to explain her actions to the only other in the room.
"Just, put the," he took in a deep breath. "Gun down, miss." He told her, hand extended out. He was doing his best to regain his breath "I'm not going to-" he was cut off by the sudden wail.
"Jake?" she called out. Her hands shook. "Jake?" There was no answer. The cat raised her gun and fired. She put the round through her own head. The feline's skull flew apart and she fell. Her own eyes facing those of her dead husbands. There was silence in the room. The only sound the hunter could hear was that of his own heart. He bent down and picked up the gun, then stood up. He held the cursed thing in his hands. He never liked guns.
"Mom..? Dad...?" asked a young, scared teary voice. He froze up. That voice hurt more than the rest of his wounds. He put the gun in his coat and turned around. There stood a young jackal girl. She was covered in blue fur. The girl was in a nightgown and held a stuffed teddy bear in one hand. The fighting had awaken her from bed. "Why are they looking at me like that?" She asked, looking at her parent's dead soulless eyes. The hunter knelt in front of her, blocking her view of the diseased.
"What's your name sweety?" he asked her in a gentle tone.
"I'm Lucy." the girl answered with a yawn.
"Honey, your parents aren't going to get up" He told her. She began to cry. The wolf opened his arms and she fell into them. He held her, stroking her soft fur with his rough paws. He picked her up and began to carry her out the door. "Lucy, my name is Bill. I promise to take care of you now."
"Can I help you?" asked an angry voice. The doberman had a scowl on his face.
"I'm here to talk to a Jacobs Skye." Responded the wolf. "He had a date he didn't show up for."
"I think it's best you be going." he commanded. The doberman lifted up his shirt showing a pistol that tucked into his boxers. Now the wolf never knew why people did that; kept a loaded gun pointed at their nuts that is. He was not fond of guns himself, as dead skippers didn't pay. But, this was not his skipper. His skipper was a Jackal with a cybernetic eye. He reached forward and grabbed the butt of the other man's pistol and, finding the trigger, fired, blowing lead out the dog's ass. Blood and fecal matter covered the floor behind him. His left hand gave a push, helping the Doberman stumble back. He drew the doberman's weapon the rest of the way out and put another well placed round through the dog's chest. The dog crumbled into a head atop his own bodily juices. In the home there was only one hallway to go down, so he followed it, passing closed doors until he reached the kitchen. The Jackal was behind a dining room table. He picked up a chair and hurled it at the skip tracker. The leg of the seat connected with his solar plexus. He was knocked back into the wall. The clatter of gun plastic hitting tile told him he had dropped his recently acquired firearm. The jackal rushed forward and grabbed the wolf by his shirt. He could not breath. It was a fucking lucky shot. He grappled with the Jackal. A big push and he felt his head slammed against the wall. The warm feeling of blood trickled down his neck. The wolf was losing. Six years and this might be the end. No! He pushed back with all his might bracing himself against the wall. He kneed the dog in the stomach. Slam, his skull met the wall again. it was no use, the dog was stronger than him. He reached up and tried to press his finger against the Jackal's real eye. Boom, the sound was deafening. A lone gunshot rang through the room. Mr. Jacobs fell lifeless to the floor. Blood poured from his neck as his lifeless eyes stared down the corridor. A woman, feline stood in the kitchen. She was shaking, clutching the doberman's pistol, the one he had dropped. She lowered the weapon horrified by what she had done.
"I... I... was trying to shoot you." She told him. Her broken mind tried to explain her actions to the only other in the room.
"Just, put the," he took in a deep breath. "Gun down, miss." He told her, hand extended out. He was doing his best to regain his breath "I'm not going to-" he was cut off by the sudden wail.
"Jake?" she called out. Her hands shook. "Jake?" There was no answer. The cat raised her gun and fired. She put the round through her own head. The feline's skull flew apart and she fell. Her own eyes facing those of her dead husbands. There was silence in the room. The only sound the hunter could hear was that of his own heart. He bent down and picked up the gun, then stood up. He held the cursed thing in his hands. He never liked guns.
"Mom..? Dad...?" asked a young, scared teary voice. He froze up. That voice hurt more than the rest of his wounds. He put the gun in his coat and turned around. There stood a young jackal girl. She was covered in blue fur. The girl was in a nightgown and held a stuffed teddy bear in one hand. The fighting had awaken her from bed. "Why are they looking at me like that?" She asked, looking at her parent's dead soulless eyes. The hunter knelt in front of her, blocking her view of the diseased.
"What's your name sweety?" he asked her in a gentle tone.
"I'm Lucy." the girl answered with a yawn.
"Honey, your parents aren't going to get up" He told her. She began to cry. The wolf opened his arms and she fell into them. He held her, stroking her soft fur with his rough paws. He picked her up and began to carry her out the door. "Lucy, my name is Bill. I promise to take care of you now."
