Prologue (Draft)

       Clang, Clang, Clang...
       The heavy footsteps of the Hunter clanging out into the infinite darkness of the abandoned factory. Even as his mask muffled his breathing, the heavy exhales the soldier continued to make echoed into the darkness. Even so, the Hunter did not care. No matter how loud he stomped, he knew that it was nowhere near as loud as his prey's beating heart. The soldier had cornered him in the darkness, the game was soon coming to a close, and they both knew it. He was quick, efficient, and that's why he was always chosen to make kills like these.
       They may have been of the same species, but they were of the same in the way that a domesticated house cat and lion are. The Hunter was quicker, stronger, and above all, ruthless. Even with a mask on, his enemy could never see even the briefest glimpse of mercy from his eyes. This was no different. The Hunter had already sank his teeth into this one, now all that was left was to snap the neck.
       As quiet as his prey had been, the Hunter still was able to sense the faintest of sound and stopped a rusty pipe from being smashed against the back of his neck. He snapped around and caught it only to feel a sharp kick in the knee. The knee cap moved out of place, momentarily impeding all movement. His prey, that Rogue, jumped back into the darkness.
        His prey was getting desperate. Normally, none of them would resort to such low hit and run tactics. The Hunter knew that the Rogue had no other choice. The nasty bullet wounds in his side must've been bleeding out by now with no way to stop it. Not if he kept running like this. The soldier grew impatient knowing that if this lasted much longer, he wouldn't be able to kill his prey himself, firsthand, and he would die like an injured animal. He was not going to let that happen.
        Popping his knee cap back into place, only wincing for a moment, he let himself enjoy at least that much. Not only a sadist, loving the fear in the eyes of any opposition being topped only by their pain, he was also a masochist, reveling in his own pain. It helped him successfully overcome many obstacles as he learned to love the pain he often endured. Exhaling a sigh, he was disappointed. His kneecap was often so injured in a similar fashion in countless fights that he was becoming immune to even that much, and the joy was leaving him.
        Focused once more on the task at hand and eager to finish off this wounded animal, he turned on his thermal imaging equipped into his mask. The factory did not light up in any significant manner, but the crimson footprints that was his bleeding made it a vibrant trail to follow. It was almost like cheating, but it was necessary to do so.
       Jumping down a level, he followed the blood. It zigzagged across paths, moving sporadically. Then he seemed to stop as the bleeding thickened into one larger puddle, then continued to move on. It was too easy to read. A sick grin grew across the Hunters face as his stride and pace quickened to follow, feeling his pulse fire off. Twisting this way and that, the occasional stop as prompted by a puddle, then the prey moved again. This was easy.
       The thought prompted him to stop. As skilled as he was, nothing is ever this easy, given the circumstances. Why would he be stopping? How has he moved so fast? The questions were pushed out of his mind and replaced by a quiet caution as he better surveyed his surroundings. He removed his mask for a moment and knelt down next to a large puddle. He squinted and realized how foolish he was. The Hunter had soon become the Prey. He picked up a rat body, still warm, and it was no doubt that this place was crawling with the vermin. His prey must have found a way to catch rats, make them bleed and lead him around the factory...but for what? Where would this end?
        The Hunter knew his answers were right behind him in the form of a gun pointed in the back of his own head. The cold barrel was lightly pressed against the back of his skull.
       "It appears that the cat has learned how to hunt a lion", the Hunter chuckled at his own little joke.
       "It appears you don't take the situation you're in too seriously."
       He chuckled a bit more, "but how can I when you're such a joke"
       With fluidity, The Hunter flipped down his mask and whipped around. The gun shot off, deafening him, but he was still alive, a twisting satisfied smile creeping over his face behind his bulletproof mask. The shock delivered from a bullet being fired at point black directly at his face did not have its ill effects though. The Hunter's equilibrium was skewered and the force did snap his neck back, giving him whiplash and throwing him to the ground; above all still alive.
       His leg shot back and crammed into the stomach of the Rogue in front of him like a piston. A large scream of pain shot out from his victim, but he could not fully enjoy it in his deafened state. Regardless, the Hunter must have hit the bullet wound.
        The hunter groped the railing beside him and hoisted himself up. His legs were still almost jellified underneath him. He looked forward towards the Rogue just in time to see a knee right into the face. This was the most the Hunter had enjoyed himself all week. Even sprawled upon the ground, that smile stayed plastered on his face behind the mask as the magnificent pain fueled his adrenaline like fire.
       The Rogue must not have had his gun anymore, for instead of a gun shot, a sharp stomp to the ribs, breaking two of them, was delivered instead.
        This man must be a sadist sonovabitch as well, the Hunter thought to himself not allowing himself to scream for that man's pleasure as well as embracing his own vicious beating. Biding his time.
        The Rogue knelt to the Hunter and pulled the gun out from the Hunter's holster having lost his own. It was weighted differently from his own, but in this kind of situation, who would complain. Even so, the grip bothered him as he oddly held the piece up to the Hunter's head.
       "Not to be cliche, but do you happen to have any last words?", he clicked back the hammer and firmly held his positioning.
        "Yes. Too many words, too little action, and way too slow."
        The Hunter had regained his equilibrium, and his hearing was back as well. His arm swiftly swatted the arm away from his head, turned over and awkwardly pounced upon his enemy, prey once more. The gun was quickly coming back towards his face, but now the Hunter had the upper hand and control of the situation. Without even thinking, his muscles entangled the arm and snapped it freeing his gun.
       The Hunter picked up the weapon and jammed it up against the forehead of his Prey, confident in his win.
       "Now...do you have any last words?", purposely being cliche and cruelly ironic. The overwhelming feelings of victory swarmed his body. He couldn't help buy laugh. It was a great hunt, the most joy he's gotten out of a victim in a long time.
       "Looks like this is a-" his last words were cut off by a gunshot. A large hole open, blood spatter and gray matter splattered.
       The Hunter cackled a rotten laugh of triumph. There was no feeling like it. The adrenaline, the endorphins, all of it practically replacing the very blood in his body. Completely satisfied, he tapped the communicator on his wrist, calling HQ for clean up orders.
       Then, as he punched in the last few numbers, his hearing finally was finally coming back. He heard small blips getting steadily louder. His heart froze in anticipation. Looking down, he saw in his dead prey's hand a detonator with a timer hastily counting down.
       3...2...1...
        A large wailing noise erupted from the small device. It was sharply cut off by explosions haphazardly bursting from various areas of the factory. It seemed that this was all a trap laid specifically for him. His ego was touched that they would go through such lengths just to trap him.
       The Hunter laughed one more time, only to be drowned out by the cascade of booms breaking out into cacophony around him. His only regret being he wasn't going to be around to kill more Rogues.



(It's a work in progress, just the first draft, leave comments below with criticism.)