The Jaguar
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel Comics characters written in this story, nor take credit for creative works that belong to any respective writers and artists. The main character has no relation to the pre-established character in the Marvel Comics universe and is my own respective original character.
Prologue
Somewhere at an undisclosed facility in the Northwest Territories of Canada…
The silent sound of falling snow blazed throughout the white forest, leaving no leaf or patch undisturbed. The darkness of night had shrouded the untouched landscape, leaving all except the bright white lights of a nearby facility in its shadow.
Wolves howled nearby from cliffs overlooking the secretive site. Their yellow eyes fixated on the outer-lying areas, hoping to catch a glimpse of their next prey. They raised their snouts and sniffed the air, smelling an unfamiliar scent across the valley.
Pop. Pop.
The sounds were distant, nearly inaudible.
The alpha male's ears perked up, focusing his attention to across the valley, beyond the secret facility. A mile or so of dense pine separated the facility from a lake that had frozen over from the blizzard's icy might.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
The sounds grew more and more rapid, yet ever more distant.
Snarling dogs gained speed across the snow, staying steps ahead of their handlers, in pursuit of their prey. Their handlers, bundled in polar camouflage and white balaclavas, yelled at their dogs to go faster, while taking breaks to shoot at the fleeing target with their assault rifles.
"Faster, you mongrels! He's getting away!"
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The rounds ricocheted off the bark of a tree, missing their hooded target by inches.
"Where's the chopper?!"
"He's almost to the lake!"
The hunted ran, ran as fast as his heart and lungs could take him. Remaining light on his feet, he glided across the snowy forest floor, remaining two steps ahead of the hunting party, and out maneuvering even the fastest of their dogs.
His sniper-rifle thumped on his back, remaining secured to him only by the frayed-brown sling attached to the weapon.
His burgundy fur coat made him stick out like a sore thumb whenever their flashlights shined upon him. But, even with his sense of concealment at a loss, the either ill-experienced or slow hunters couldn't land a shot on him.
He was too quick.
Suddenly, he could hear the audible churning of an engine, far back behind him. All the way back at the facility. It grew louder and louder. Until it finally picked up speed did, he realize the helicopter was on its way.
"No, it's too soon!" he murmured to himself.
Within the minute, it took flight and was hovering over the facility, gaining speed towards his direction. A powerful spotlight flickered on and shined its light over the forest.
He glanced back for a split second to see the roaring Black Hawk helicopter begin to circle overhead. The side gunner closest to him began shooting at him with the minigun attachment, forcing him to take cover behind a nearby boulder to avoid the hail of fire.
Taking a brief second to breathe, he looked on ahead and saw the frozen lake. Its wide-open area made him an easy target to his pursuers. But he had no choice. He had to take his chances.
While the helicopter circled around once more, he dashed towards the frozen lake. His light stride made the trek feasible for him, but the situation would quickly change as the hunting party arrived at the edges of the lake.
Another glance back, he saw that the hunters had stopped and began to fire at him from the edge of the lake. He changed his running pattern into a more unpredictable serpentine manner. Until suddenly, they scored a shot on his calf, causing him to fall forward hard onto the sheet of ice.
Crack.
"Argh! Damn it!" he cursed.
He turned around, still on his back, seeing the bright light of the helicopter's spotlight descend upon him as it grew nearer and nearer.
"It's over, Monterroso! There is no where to run!" the loudspeaker on the helicopter shouted, "Surrender now and you won't be killed!"
Refusing to give up that easily, the hunted withdrew his sniper rifle, quickly checking the magazine.
"Less than three rounds left. Damn it!"
With the helicopter and hunting party closing in, there was little left he could do. He had to make his final stand.
He aimed down at the hunting party, who were running across the sheet of ice to get to him, then at the helicopter. They must've seen that he was about to shoot at them because the turret attachments were spinning up.
Then, he shot off the first round. It bounced off the front nose of the helicopter.
Brrrrrrrttttt….
The turret was firing off rounds at a cycling rate in a line that was drawing closer to him, poking through the sheet of ice.
Pop!
Another round, this time bouncing off the roof of the helicopter.
They were less than a few several meters away now. He chambered in the last round and aimed down at the helicopter.
Pop. Smuck.
A blotch of blood smeared across the front windshield of the helicopter. The round shot right through the pilot's skull. Losing control, the helicopter violently spun down its descent. It crashed feet away from the hunting party, tearing up the sheet of ice.
Then, it began.
The ice cracked and cracked. Members of the hunting party and their dogs began to fall right through the ice into the murky cold water below. Their flashlights died out and their fate sealed.
His heartrate increased. He didn't know where the cracks were as the darkness returned to the valley. The fires of the helicopter were quickly extinguished as the lake swallowed the down craft whole.
The crackling surrounded him.
He knew his fate had come.
"I pray to see you one day again, my love, Esperanza," he whispered to himself.
Then, the ice fell through, and he felt his entire body be wrapped by the icy embrace of death itself.