Redemption's Edge

1: Reckoning

Jake Striker's boots hit the dusty ground as he stepped out of his beat-up pickup truck. The small town of Redemption looked like it had seen better days, but Jake wasn't here for the scenery. He was here for one reason and one reason only: to make things right.

As he walked down the main street, Jake's eyes scanned the rundown buildings, taking in every detail. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. But Jake didn't flinch. He was used to the heat, used to the violence that simmered just beneath the surface of every town he passed through.

He stopped outside a dingy bar, the neon sign flickering in the fading light. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifted out into the street, but Jake paid them no mind. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes assaulting his senses.

The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with smoke. Jake's eyes adjusted to the darkness as he made his way to the counter. The bartender, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, eyed him warily.

"What can I get you?" the bartender grunted.

Jake didn't bother with pleasantries. "I'm looking for someone," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "A man named Ray Tanner. You know him?"

The bartender's eyes narrowed. "What's it to you?"

Jake didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It was a photo of a young woman, her face bruised and bloodied. Jake slid it across the counter, his gaze never leaving the bartender's.

"Her name's Sarah," Jake said, his voice barely a whisper. "She's my niece. And if you know what's good for you, you'll tell me where I can find Ray Tanner."

The bartender hesitated, his hand inching towards the shotgun hidden beneath the counter. But before he could make a move, Jake was on him.

With lightning speed, Jake grabbed the bartender by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The shotgun clattered to the floor as the bartender struggled to break free, but Jake held him fast.

"Where is he?" Jake growled, his eyes burning with fury.

The bartender's lips trembled, but he didn't speak. So Jake tightened his grip, his fingers digging into the man's flesh.

"I'll ask you one more time," Jake said, his voice icy calm. "Where. Is. He?"

The bartender's resolve crumbled, and he spat out the words like venom. "He's holed up in an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. But you'll never make it out alive."

Jake released his grip and let the bartender slump to the floor. Without a word, he turned and headed for the door, his mind already racing with plans for revenge.

Ray Tanner had made a grave mistake crossing Jake Striker. And now, it was time for him to pay the price. With a steely glint in his eye, Jake stepped back out into the unforgiving heat of Redemption, ready to deliver his own brand of "Hard Justice."