Notes: This story basically hinges on the premise that Hunter and his family were never ninja's, allowing the Bradley's to live normal non-ninjay lives. I've stolen Dr. Huang from Law and Order SVU, even though he wasn't a medical doctor in that show, he was the one I knew the best. Oh, and I gave Hunter a sister, cause I had to have more female character since Tori and Leanne don't play a role in this story. And Hunters mom should totally be played by Diane Lane. That's about all.
Chapter 1
He drove towards the beach with no real intention of doing anything once he got there, but it was a destination, and that was a good thing to have.
Driving aimlessly unsettled Hunter, but he hated going straight home after working all day, and he didn't want to go to the track without Blake or his dad. His only other option was to go help his mom and sister with the seal release, but the closer he got to the marine sanctuary, the more he didn't want to go.
So he turned off three exits early, heading into a small deserted cove that bordered the Blue Bay Sentential Forest, and he figured maybe a good jog through the surf and into the thick musky forest might clear his head.
It had been a long day. He had overslept, and he'd been trying to catch up ever since. He'd gotten to the shop late, but his boss hadn't cared all that much so long as Hunter got his work done. That had proved to be another problem entirely. Being a mechanic was a lot of guess work, and his boss Rob never seemed to remember that. It was analysis and planning and trial and error, all of which Hunter had to do. Rob was a more of a marketer, more of a designer and a conceptual idea man. He had opened up the only non-factory owned custom bike shop in Blue Bay Harbor six years ago, and business had poured in. Rob hired Hunter to do the engine overhauls, and he'd been working there since he graduated high school.
Four years ago, Hunter reminded himself. He'd been working the same job for four years now, one with no real chance of promotion or any kind of job satisfaction. The hours were less than perfect, and while the pay was good, and the access to customization equipment for his and Blake's bikes that he would not otherwise have suited them fine, Hunter was bored.
Bored, and lonely, he admitted to himself with a frustrated sigh.
It wasn't that he didn't have any friends, per say. It was just that it seemed all his friends were moving on with their lives. The few who hadn't gone on to college were getting married and having kids. It didn't leave very much time for socializing.
And then there was the shop, of course. The only other people who worked there, Jesse and Darcell, were cynical and socially inept, respectively. Jesse couldn't take a joke, and he constantly blasted NPR radio while he worked on anything, making conversation difficult. Darcell was a veritable bike building maniac, but bikes were his only real friends, and Hunter had heard him have deep personal conversations with an alternator more than once. They weren't very good company on a good day, and on a day like today, with orders backed up, customers calling in to complain about the wait, and Rob threatening to take the discounts out of his pay, Jesse and Darcell's company hadn't meant much.
Hunter tried to be friendly, he really did. But there was only so much a personal with a limited social circle could take from his peers.
Hunter pulled up into the small sandy parking lot and hopped out of his truck. The sea air was refreshing on his face, which he knew was probably covered in grime. So he took off his jeans and changed into a pair of sport shorts from the back seat. He stretched up against his truck while he watched the golden sun get lower in the sky. It would hit the water in two or three hours, and Hunter figured the green flash would be his sign that he should turn back.
If he could last that long, of course. It was another consequence of the life choices he'd made, he supposed. He has run marathons while he was in high school, but running was one of his hobbies that, without any real structure to make him practice, had fallen by the wayside. He'd only kept up motocross riding because of Blake and his dad. And he hadn't picked up a new hobby in years. Drinking alone, maybe, if that counted.
At least he didn't have the stomach that betrayed him yet, like his dad. Charlie Bradley didn't have a beer belly, exactly, but that was only because Hunters younger sister Krista had enrolled her parents in yoga classes with her last year. It had barely saved his dad, but Hunter and Blake had declined to attend when Krista had handed them what she called "yoga pants". The too tight spandex turned them off from it, or really any activity requiring spandex, completely.
Feeling slightly more limber, Hunter turned his overwrought mind to running. IT would feel good to get the wind in his face, to work up a sweat and work muscles long dormant. First, though, he headed for the sea line. He waded out a short ways, the cold water hitting his legs waking him up and prickling at the same time, and he took some and splashed it on his sweaty, grimy face. It felt cool, and he enjoyed the feeling of sharp awareness it gave him.
It didn't make him feel much better. He tried not to sigh while he rinsed off his arms in the salt water.
It bothered him, he supposed, his lack of progress in life. It wasn't that he felt unhappy, it was just that… he was so bored. Blake would be graduating from college in the spring, and Krista would be starting it next fall. They both had friends and activities and hobbies. Hunter had a crap job, and he still lived over his parents garage in the in-law quarters.
This was the third time today he'd thought about this. Eighth time that week. It was really starting to grate on him, but he tried not to let it show. And, if he thought about it, Hunter had no idea what he would do to shake up the status quo. Go to college? Not likely. A new job, maybe, but he just wasn't qualified for much, and he loathed food service.
He just missed getting up in the morning because he was excited about something, he knew. Routines weren't Hunters thing, but his family was quite the opposite. His parents were very structured people, and his brother and sister enjoyed filling their time with activities and hobbies that required structured practice. Hunter had always been the one who preferred spontaneity, adventure, the unpredictable. He liked being surprised.
Maybe he could save enough money to go on a vacation somewhere, he thought. Take off for Europe and go have a real adventure. As much as Hunter Bradley hated to admit it, he'd never really had one. His life, wondrous though it was, had been unpleasantly ordinary.
He stood there in the cold for a moment more and then tried to shake off the feeling of somberness that had settled around him. He was Hunter Bradley, after all. He could shake anything off if he wanted to. He could disconnect, could reinvigorate and start again. It wasn't so hard. So he turned from the water and started off jogging at a brisk pace along the coast, trying not to think about his life, or his longing for a real adventure.
His legs were dry by the time he reached the large rock face, which was covered in the long roots of trees from up above. He was focused on his breathing, on the way his feet hit the sand in the foot shaped sandals Krista had gotten him, and trying not to think about how heavily he was already sweating.
He was hitting the tree line when he stopped running abruptly. His instincts had kicked in somewhere between the rock face and the tree line, and he knew something was wrong. He knew it before he saw anything, but he couldn't explain how.
Hunter looked around, his heart racing, trying to catch his breath from the short jog. He tried to decide what exactly his mind thought was wrong when he saw it; a flash of black moving just behind a tree.
Falling, not moving, he realized. He was moving before he knew it, racing to the fallen mans side, but he heard the thump as the man hit the ground. Hard.
The figure was clutching his side, dressed in what could have been all black clothes if it weren't for the large tears in the fabric and the blood they were soaked it. He was bleeding, Hunter realized with some panic. In the short time it took Hunter to reach him, a pool of blood had already started to form around the young man's head.
Hunter reached out, scooped the man up as gently as he could, and then shook him. "Hey!" He shouted.
The man's face was contorted in pain, but he mumbled something that sounded like "help them."
"What happened to you?" Hunter asked, trying to assess the man's wounds. He had blood all down the side of his face, but Hunter couldn't see where it was coming from. "Who did this to you?"
"Help," the man said again, this time softer than before. "We… have to stop them…"
"Stop who?" Hunter asked. He looked around to make sure the man was alone, and saw no one around. Whoever this guy had been with or been running from, he'd lost them.
"I can't…" he whispered. "They don't…"
The man's head went limp in Hunter's arms, and his face relaxed. Hunter's heart beat was pounding in his ears, making it impossible for him to tell if the young man had just died or not. He didn't wait to find out. He swatted the man's face, trying to get him to wake back up, but nothing happened. "Hey! You have to stay with me! I'm gonna call for help. Stay with me!"
Hunter laid the guy back down on the ground, and pulled his hand away from the man's head to reach into his pocket for his cell phone. He stopped when he realized is hand was covered in blood, and before grabbing his phone he turned the man's head towards him to reveal a deep, large gash on the right side of his head. The scalp was mangled, the hair red from blood, and Hunter couldn't tell if he was seeing bone or not.
He'd never seen so much blood in all his life. Not even when Blake had fallen off his bike when they were kids and torn open his knee.
Panicking, Hunter hailed the man up into his arms and began running back towards his truck. If he called 911, the young man would probably die before the ambulance arrived. Already unconscious, Hunter knew he didn't have much time. If he floored it, they might be able to make Blue Bay Memorial in 15 minutes.
They made it back to his car in less than two, and Hunter hauled open the passenger door, careful not to bang the man's already injured head against the truck. He shoved the man's unconscious form in as best he could, buckled him, and grabbed a towel from the backseat to wrap around his head. "Don't worry, man. It's gonna be okay." He told the unconscious figure, but it was more for his own racing mind than the man who couldn't hear him.
He jumped the hood of the truck to his door, started the ignition, and pulled out of the parking lot in record time.
His lungs were burning, his legs hurt, and he was covered in this unknown mans blood. Despite the situation, it was nice to know he could still push himself in a time of need. And carrying double his weight, at that. But with the man bleeding in the seat next to him, it was hard to pat himself on the back for his own heroic actions just yet. He could congratulate himself if they made it to the hospital in one piece.
As he drove, he reached over to nudge the unconscious man and check that air was still coming out of his nose.
"Come on, man. Don't die on me, here. It's gonna be okay, you just gotta hang on." Hunter urged, hoping that somehow, the young man could hear him.
The boy slumped down even further, looking beaten, utterly defeated, and helpless. Blood trickled down his forehead into his open mouth, and Hunter reached over to wipe it away as best he could. He twisted the man's head a little so the blood might run off somewhere else, and Hunter once again saw the large, gaping head wound.
And he thought he'd been having a hard day.
