PREDATOR: SHOWDOWN
The hunter continued to stalk his prey. Silently, effortlessly and without falter. Then with a flash and a bang it was over. The wounded wildebeest fell to the ground, still writhing in agony. Sherriff Hank Burnside lowered his weapon the barrel glinting in the sun. He set off to retrieve his fallen prize. In the distance he could hear the ringing of the church bells and the stamping of the feet on their way to congregation. He stooped down to examine the beast. It was still breathing, still dying and still feeling the pain he had caused it. He took his revolver from its holster and slowly placed it against the beasts temple. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger, and from that moment his hunt was over.
His walk back to town was made longer by the immense weight he was now carrying, and the smell. What was that god awful smell? It was rancid. He walked for what seemed to be hours before he finally found his way back to the town of Sundown. It was nearly dark now, the ruffians would be crawling out from whatever rock they were hiding from and joining those who had spent all day drinking away there sorrows in the bar. He carried on walking, ignoring the occasional gunshot usually followed by smashing glass and a drunken cheer. He reached the front door of his office, and upon the realisation that he couldn't drag the carcass through the office of the law, continued to drag it around the side of the building. He was relieved to be free of the weight┘and that god awful smell. He groggily opened the door, and lumbered in.
"Sherriff? Is that you?" called his deputy Chris Gardner.
"Yeah its me" Replied the Sherriff in his gruff voice "I'm back"
"You get anything?" he asked "Buffalo out back, he was a bastard to carry back I tell you"
He began walking across the room towards the wash basin in the corner.
"Why didn't you get one of the kids to give you a hand?" he said, suddenly realising the mistake he had made "Sorry"
Hank stopped in his tracks and lowered his head. He thought for a moment of what he had, what he lost and what he had become. A foolish old man. He walked towards the mirror, and looked into it barely recognising the face that stared back at him. His face was covered in a mixture of short grey hairs and scars of previous battles. He splashed the cold water into his face, hoping it would wake him up from the nightmare of his life. It didn't, he continued staring into his own cold eyes. He noticed something move out of the window, it was quick. He spun around and ran towards the window. There was nothing. Impossible, no one could escape that fast. He gazed down at the ground, footprints. Large footprints, heading off down the street. How did they escape that fast.
"I need a drink, I'm still seeing things" He said to himself in his deep voice
"I thought it was about time we did" Chris replied reaching for his hat.
Hank through slowly put his coat on and for a second, thought that smell was back. Just outside the window.
