Journey Pt.1: Arrival
#1 of Journey series
A strike against a cartel in Argentina mostly goes on plan, but for Hunter, it just goes horribly wrong.
"Okay, bring it on, I got a bullet with your name on it!" A bullet flew past in answer as he took cover behind a tree, wincing in pain as the bullet nicked his ear as he heard the gunman curse in Spanish. He quickly rolled into the ditch in front of him and reloaded his rifle, pushing back the bolt to chamber the .338 round.
"Hunter, you there? We're getting words of a sniper in your AO, be careful, he might be just a few feet in front of you." He quickly rolled his eyes at the Scottish accent behind the radio snickering. He never really liked the human, sure he always helped bring everyone's mood up, but he tended to be rather eccentric in what he does, like nearly blowing himself up destroying a stock of smuggled M60 tanks in Somalia.
"Cut the chatter Macdermit. Don't you have a warehouse to blow up?" It was his turn to snicker while he crawled his way through the ditch, popping his head up every few feet and ducking it back down when a shot or two kicked up the dirt, all the while as he listened on to Macdermit swearing and cursing as he set the detonators.
"Alright, the bloody detonators are finally ready and set to a three minute timer. And before you ask why, there's enough munitions in this warehouse to destroy the whole fucking block, and then some! So it's needed."
"We get it. Alright everyone, let's get to exfil before they blow. Same for you Hunter."
"uh, that's gonna be hard, I'm on the other side of town, just in visual of- GEEZ! You know what, fuck it, I'm taking the alternative." He quickly hit the dirt when a round impacted the ground just an inch from his head, letting him know that the other guy had moved enough to be in the ditch he was using, though he was lucky that it was just a really old hunting rifle otherwise, he would've taken a bullet to the head, which is something that he wouldn't prefer.
"Alright, just get out of there alive. That's an order."
He didn't need any more encouragement and quickly whipped out his pistol and fired, listening to the cartel member that had been giving him so much trouble hit the ground dead as he began to sprint through the trees towards the alternate exfiltration area, careful not to hit the rifle's barrel against the trees of rock unless he wanted to deal with misalignment if he had to fight.
After running up several hundred meters of steep, rocky hill with a heavy rifle and gear, he finally made it to the place they had set up as the alternate in case he wasn't able to make it to the main one.
"Alright. Sarge, I'm he-The hell?!" A large cloud mushroomed from where the cache was, raining debris and the like on the town. "Uh, macdermit, are you sure you set them to three minutes? Cause it's only been two."
"Hunter, don't. Just get out of th- OKAY WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?!" Another large explosion, this time accompanied by a large blue bubble that was expanding, engulfing everything in its path, much to the shock of him and possibly his squad commander, or not, if his stories were anything to go by. His instincts quickly kicked in and he began to turn and run. "Hunter, RUN!"
"No need to tell me!"
"Then hu-" He never even heard him finish the sentence as the wave engulfed in a bright blue light until he ran into a tree.
"Ow, son of a bitch!" He quickly fell back on his rear, rubbing his muzzle in pain in an attempt to soothe his sore nose. "What the fuck?" He moved several stray locks of white hair to find himself looking at a rather common tree not found in South America, but in North America and Europe, a freaking maple tree. "Wait. If that's there, then that means I'm in- Ah fucking hell. I am not getting paid enough for this job."
He sighed as he stood up and began to look around taking in his surroundings and breathing in the scents, taking note of the warmer temperature, humid air, and another that quickly took his attention, fear. His training quickly took into effect as he quickly began to weigh the options: See what the source of the scent is, find out it's only a feral being hunted, and get mailed by a possibly very hungry and very angry predator; find out that it's a person, and hope that he doesn't get something very bad to the face; or leave it alone and hope it wasn't a person and not feel guilty because of it.
"Fuck it. If it's anything like a freaking bear, I got a freaking glock and a freaking three-three-eight for it."
Yep, so enjoy the beginning of a series. Or not, really, if you want to read then read, I'm not in charge of you.