Chapter - 1
The night was restless, heavy with tension.
Dark clouds swallowed the sky, and the distant rumble of thunder and lightning as if the heavens were warning the world of a calamity that was about to strike.
Soon the rain poured. Starting from a drizzle, it was soon a downpour in a matter of minutes. The ground was in no time a slick, treacherous mess.
And while the world slept, in the middle of nowhere stood a ruined warehouse, a graveyard of rusted metal and shattered concrete. The stench of damp iron mixed with the sharp, pungent scent of gasoline.
But beneath all of it, there was another smell, the unmistakable scent of fear.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
A group of men cautiously moved through the wreckage with fear oozing from their body with every step they took. They were on a hunt, but more than like predators, they looked like preys walking towards their imminent slaughter.
Their boots splashed through the puddles of mud as they advanced, their sharp eyes trying to search for something or rather someone in the darkness.
Each one carried a weapon in their shaky hands - knives, pistols, or whatever else they could use to kill in an instant. They wanted to look ruthless, but the hesitation in their eyes and their anxious movements gave away their fear.
And leading all of them, a tall man with a jagged scar slashing across his cheek stopped in his tracks. He took slow and measured breaths, not wanting to alert his target as he scanned the environment. His fingers curled tightly around the worn handle of his revolver. His patience was wearing thin.
"That son of a bitch is hurt. He couldn't have gotten far," The man whispered, his voice low and filled with irritation. He adjusted his grip on the gun, his knuckles whitening, "Spread out. Search everywhere. Leave no stone unturned," The man ordered everyone else.
"And remember. When you find him, don't hesitate. Kill him."
Getting their orders, the men nodded in agreement, their words lost to the sound of rain pounding against metal. Then, without wasting another moment of hesitation, they split apart.
But what they didn't know, what none of them realized was that their prey was already close and he barely caught the Scar-faced's words.
Just a few feet away from them, behind a pile of rusted metal crates, a man lay motionless, holding his breath.
His body was broken, his limbs barely moving with his will as he lay there hidden. Blood and rainwater dripped from his face, mixing together and staining the ground beneath him. His clothes, torn and soaked, clung to his skin like a second layer of misery, revealing deep gashes across his arms and chest. The wounds on his body burned and hurt him like fire from hell.
The man pressed his hand firmly against his abdomen, where a deeper wound bled heavily no matter how hard he tried to stop it.
The man knew he was in no condition to fight, at least not at this moment. But surrender was not an option for him.
Not tonight. Not ever.
Gritting his teeth, he clenched his jaw against the pain. He had to escape. He had to live to fight for another day.
Because there was one thing he had sworn to do, and he would not die until it was done.
His bloodied fingers curled into a fist, his nails digging into his palm.
"I refuse to die… not until I find that bastard."
The wounded men peeked through the slight gaps between the stacked metal boxes. His eyes darted from one dark silhouette to the other as the figures moved, rummaging through the ruins of the warehouse.
After getting their orders, the men were much more sharp in their search of the wounded man, hiding from them. With one hand on their weapon, they were ready to strike at a moment's notice.
And then the lightning ripped through the sky. For a brief second, everything lit up. The ruined warehouse, the crumbling walls, the wet ground, and worst of all, him, the man hiding from his death.
His battered body, that was slumped against the cold metal, was suddenly visible in the flash of light. His bloodied face, his torn clothes, the wounds slashed across his arms and chest were all exposed.
And as if they could hear his thoughts, his fears came true, one of them turned.
A pair of eyes flicked toward his direction, narrowing with suspicion. The man took a step forward, his boot slicing cleanly through the puddle, sending ripples across the water.
Seeing the man walk in his direction, the injured man's muscles tightened. His heart slammed against his ribs.
'Shit' The man muttered to himself as his hand slowly moved towards the gun lying beside him. If he was going to die anyway, he wasn't going to do it like a lamp waiting to be slaughtered.
He pressed himself deeper against the metal, willing himself to disappear. He didn't even dare to breathe.
The hunter's grip tightened on his knife, his fingers curling around the handle as he took another step in the direction of the stacked metal boxes. He was coming closer. Step by step… Closer and Closer…
And then he was just a couple of feet away from the metal boxes when suddenly there was a sound that came from the opposite direction.
Something fell in the distance, and the sound from the sharp clatter caught everyone's attention. Even the man standing just a few feet away in front of the wounded man turned his head towards the direction of the sound.
"Everyone get here," Suddenly the Scar-faced's voice cut through the heavy rain and in no time everyone was running towards the direction of the sound.
And it was the only chance he would get.
The injured man sucked in a shaky breath, his vision swimming with exhaustion. He felt weak… Too weak. His limbs were heavy, his body barely able to hold itself together.
'Fucking bastards. I have no more strength left… I have lost too much blood,' he thought, his mind clouded with fatigue, 'I need to wait for the right time. But first, I have to get out of here.'
Gritting his teeth, the man pushed his body against the cold, wet ground. His body protested, pain surging through his side like fire, but he forced himself to move.
Slowly. Carefully. The man moved backward, inch by inch, step by step he tried to get away from his pursuers. He tried to stay as quiet as he could, trying to stay hidden from the light.
The rain continued to pour harder and harder, his wet clothes glued against his wounds and the pain was getting unbearable. But the man ignored it, his only focus was to escape the men hunting him.
And then he saw it. It was in his sight, The main road.
Just a few more yards. If he could just reach it… Then he could disappear into the city, blend into the crowd, vanish into the night. That way, he would live long enough to exact his revenge.
He would survive.
He would have his revenge.
But fate had different plans.
The moment he staggered onto the open road, about to cross the road, headlights sliced through the darkness. A deep, powerful roar of an engine echoed through the storm.
All the man saw was a fast moving pair of headlights. If it was any other day, he could easily avoid it. But today he had no energy left.
It was moving too fast for him today.
His tired, battered body barely had time to react. His legs refused to move. His mind screamed at him to dodge, to jump, to run but it was too late. And in that split second, he gave in to his fate.
'Guess it is time for me to rest. But I only have one regret…'
And then it happened, the vehicle slammed into him with full force.
Pain exploded through him. His body lurched backward, crashing onto the hood. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony ripping through his already broken form. His limbs flailed, helpless against the brutal force of the collision.
And then he was sent flying in the air. His world spun violently, the sky and ground twisting together in a blur of rain and darkness.
And the next moment, his body hit the surface of the lake just on the other side of the road with a violent splash, and within seconds, the icy current dragged him under.
The cold, unforgiving waters of the lake swallowed him whole.
Water filled his mouth, his lungs burning as he sank deeper and deeper. His arms tried to reach out weakly towards the surface, but his strength was gone. The weight of his injuries, the exhaustion, the pain... It was all too much.
And soon his vision darkened.
His consciousness slipped.
And slowly, his broken body was pulled into the depths of the river.
* * * * *
[Q. Now that "The Man" is already in the depths of the lake. Should we just drown him and end the story?]
[1. Yes]
[2. No]