THE HUNTRESS #1 [EB]

7_The_Mission_II.docx

Bern, Tavannes, Belfond Campsite,
Friday 31 October 2121.

"Fuck it," Zeurst growled, frustration lacing her voice.

Lana was not just hysterical; she was an inept. Her silver hair clung to her ashy skin, framing her gaunt, hollow-cheeked face. Struggling to find her footing, she leaned on a rough concrete block, her bones jutting beneath her thin skin. Her scream pierced the air, a grating, desperate sound. Zeurst, her patience exhausted and fury burning in her eyes, mimicked her cries before driving her knee into the back of Lana's leg. Lana's torso buckled, crashing against the concrete. Zeurst's hand clamped down on the nape of Lana's neck, smashing her head into the hard surface, the impact reverberating through the cold, desolate space.

"Bitch," Zeurst muttered near Lana's ear, her actions igniting a surge of electricity in her veins. "Fucking bitch."

She clenched her fingers into the sparse, silvery hair on Lana's head, yanking her and hurling her to the ground. Lana's skull struck the concrete with a sickening thud, leaving her dazed and disoriented. She'd remain in that stupor for a while, but the cruel reality was clear: she'd be far better off dead.

Outside, the world erupted into chaos.

"Engage! Engage!" General Starz shouted, his own weapon firing as he took down one of the riders. "Cover, cover!"

Captain Heller and Corporal Keller unleashed a barrage of lethal shots from their entrenched positions. The forest exploded with the cacophony of gunfire and desperate cries. Survivors, a mix of panicked screams and stunned silence, were corralled by Rico, herding them into the relative safety deeper within the building.

The remaining riders, their black jackets emblazoned with bold British flags, moved with a precision that spoke of hard-earned experience. Bodies ducking and weaving as they sought the cover of their bikes.

"Thompson, secure our comms!" General Starz barked, his voice cutting through the noise. "Rico, get the survivors out of here!"

Amidst the chaos of battle, the young man who had ignited the frenzy stood over the lifeless rider he had felled. His breath came in ragged sobs as he knelt and retrieved the pendant from the rider's hand, the cool metal burning against his trembling fingers. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, each drop a testament to the pain and regret that gnawed at his soul. He clutched the pendant to his chest, the weight of its significance pressing on him.

General Starz seized the young man by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "We have to move." The young man staggered, his legs unsteady, yet General Starz's grip was firm. "Stay down!" he urged, guiding him behind a large tree. "Everyone report in."

"Eight more," Captain Heller reported. "They hid."

"Command has been updated," Thompson said, his voice steady despite the chaos that had unfolded. "Border's coming."

"Going outside," Captain Heller said. "I'll go around the back. Florian cover the front for me."

Two riders broke away from the main group, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path as they veered toward Zeurst and Lana's concealed position. Zeurst didn't hesitate. Her fingers reached an arrow from her quiver and notching it to the bowstring. The familiar tension of the bow in her grip was a comforting reminder.

The riders, now close enough for Zeurst to make out the determined set of their jaws and the gleam of their weapons in the dim light, quickened their pace. Zeurst's eyes narrowed, her focus unerring. She took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill her lungs, and then exhaled, steadying herself. As the first rider's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her, Zeurst's lips curved into a broad, almost feral smile. It was the smile of a predator assured of its kill, a smile that spoke of experience and the thrill of the hunt. She released the arrow, the twang of the bowstring cutting through the air like a whispered promise of death.