The Black Pyramid, Providence's conference room
"I'm here in New York City, and as you can see, this is a pretty disturbing sight..." The camera followed a trio tossing Molotovs through a store window, setting the building ablaze. "This unrest is reminiscent of the 1992 Los Angeles Riots, which saw widespread looting, assault, and arson. The local police station was reportedly attacked with an explosive, crippling the response against this. All this was spurred moments ago by a hacker calling himself Surtr..."
The channel changed.
"We're receiving reports from nearly every state in America; people are up in arms, marching in protest against government lies and corruption. It must be said, however, that the majority of the protests have remained peaceful. In his recent address to the nation, President Rogers called the Surtr leak 'a dangerous lie' and believes the hacker responsible is trying to incite violence. He is considering sending the National Guard to handle the unrest if it continues to escalate..."
The channel changed again. Instead of the news outlet, it was a man in a crow outfit, sitting at a table amid static. "Elaina Johnson," he read, "an office worker who licked her boss' feet and let him embezzle charity relief funds. 9883 Wilber Village, Kodyfort." Corvus flipped through another card. "Dwight Wolff, a—"
"You all get the idea." Don Yates muted the TV, and now all the Heralds' eyes were on him—waiting to hear why they should care. "Out of nowhere, this 'Surtr' character woke up and thought, 'Wouldn't it be funny if I destabilized America through civil unrest?' And he did. Got through almost every monitor in the country to display his ugly mug and talk to the middle class about the usual 'we hate this' spiel."
"Seeing as you've called us all here, I take it you can't handle it?" An Argentinian voice, calm and calculated, cut through Yates' inflated cadence. Tamara Vidal always watched him like a hawk, just waiting to point out the shortcomings he desperately tried to hide. Worst of all, she always hit her mark.
"It's nothing America hasn't seen before. It'll come to pass." The dismissal came from the Herald Trent Umphenour. He had taken to resting his legs on the table, though the virtual world cut that off up to his thighs. A military man, he must have been comfortably watching everything from his cabin aboard the USS Stewart.
"Much like your recent controversy?" Yoshihara Nozomi, a prominent CICADA director, added.
The admiral shrugged. "They can't get rid of me, even if they wanted to. People just gotta accept that ugly things happen, and sometimes, there's nothing that can be done." He motioned to the TV. "Same case here. Whenever President Rogers brings in the National Guard, everything will go away."
Nozomi clicked her tongue. "I will never understand why Edwards selected such a negligent slop like you. Or Warren, for that matter..."
"Hold that thought, Trent; Yoshihara." Yates' mustache shifted. "Right you are, Tamara. This isn't just me putting America first. We haven't even talked about Egypt yet. Our Herald, Haddad, was framed and sacrificed to mob justice. This nobody has been declared Egypt's regent—skipping every legal process. All of this in under one month! My point is, I have reason to believe these two situations are related."
Everyone's gazes shifted to scrutiny. But Yates was used to it. A lifetime of court cases does that. And like the court, now was the time to present the case. "Nolan, you're up."
Nolan Cassidy, a former Secret Service agent, and the Heralds' unofficial security expert, cleared his throat. "In the month prior to Egypt's uprising and Morcos' assassination, we found this network of calls. They started in America and went through middlemen across several countries. But the terminus was Egypt—specifically Cairo. All of them were masked, mind you, but we decoded enough messages to glean one name from them." Nolan looked at Tamara. "I'm sure you remember Xenia Samec."
Tamara subconsciously frowned at the mention of her former CIA peer. If there was a left- and right-wing, she and Xenia were two different birds. Somehow, it didn't surprise her she was involved.
Nolan continued. "No matter how skilled the hacker is, they couldn't have gotten in without an inside connection. My sources are shifting through the susceptible government divisions as we speak, but it will take time. Trent and I will devote what we can on our end."
The admiral perked up as if this was news to him, but didn't retort.
"But while that happens, we need to exercise caution." Yates looked at Nozomi. "That's where you come in. If this becomes something big, CICADA needs to be ready. No matter how we feel, presidents dropping dead doesn't bode well for the global economy and politics."
Nozomi nodded, although there was a slight twitch in her stance as she replied. "My apologies, but my resources are spread thin thanks to a certain Warren Paxton. That man's 'spiritual journey' has posed its own threat to Providence."
Yates huffed. Nozomi usually had her friend to bounce off of, but she was running impeccably late. Nozomi's combat assets combined with her network were the bread and butter of Providence's modern Herald system.
A user joined the room. Speak of the devil...
"You're late, Myung," he lamented.
"I've heard the details. There's no need to catch me up." Myung's voice came before her body materialized. "Nunchi Electronics—and the ICA—is at Providence's disposal. Whatever our phones hear, you hear."
"Then, going off of that, we can convince the rest of the CICADA board to devote their resources to wherever in the name of international security," Nozomi added.
"And if this hypothetical group of conspirators knows what we're up to?" The heads turned to Tamara at once. "Is it not strange how none of our intel picked up on Surtr's existence until now? How they gained access to broadcasts all over America and orchestrated the usurpation in Egypt?"
"What exactly are you saying?" Yates asked.
"That someone in Providence was in on it. Of course, I could be wrong. That's why I put Bronson up to the task."
"The no-show Herald? You mean to say you tasked him before this meeting?"
"It was just a curiosity then. Now it has bigger implications." Tamara leaned confidently in her seat. "Whoever Surtr is, they don't understand the reason why society's hierarchy is the way it is. Not everyone is born to be a leader."
Silence befell the Heralds as the meeting came to its conclusion. The TV continued its report, replaying the footage of Surtr's hack.
From her office, Diana watched on, quiet. She replayed the hack for the fourth time, going back on a certain phrase.
"The states are gonna be in for hell." Erich Soders came up behind her, the fresh smell of coffee refreshing both of their minds. "It's always the same pattern: preach to the choir, earn their support, then toss them in the gutter. People never learn."
Diana smiled at him. "Any news on Myung?"
He chose his next words carefully. "Myung has not violated any official standards of conduct. And with her position, we could only really give her a verbal warning." To his surprise, Diana only nodded in acceptance. She expected as much. "I'm sorry about your agent, but as it is, she has done nothing wrong."
"I understand."
Erich turned to leave, but before opening the door, he stopped. "By the way, I have some news regarding your friend, Clera."
That caught Diana's attention.
"You won't be seeing her too often, anymore. Myung promoted her to Head of Division alongside Travis, putting her in charge of major field operations and squad management."
She dwelled on that for a bit, then nodded. "I'm happy for her."
Sharing a smile, Erich left her to work.
But instead of working, she replayed Surtr's message. "He who wields his bright sword..."
She'd heard that quote before. It was a lifetime ago; after Blue Seed took her brother away, and before they did the same with her parents.
Peter and Nancy Burnwood lost their first trial against the pharmaceutical company. Her brother's death was buried, and Blue Seed was found to be innocent. She remembered that they grieved just as much as the funeral that late night. The hopeful sparkle in her parents' eyes was gone.
Diana couldn't sleep. Sneaking out of her bedroom, she heard voices from the living room. Her parents were wide awake, and they spoke to a man exuding confidence; a belief that justice would always land its mark.
Detective Lars Roth put his hand on her father's shoulder. "It matters not how unsurmountable an opponent may seem. Surtr rose from his den for one purpose. It was he who slew the Gods, and whose flames engulfed the Earth. And what emerged from the inferno was a world full of life and peace."
But a global billion-dollar corporation is harder to topple than the Gods.
And the last she heard of him, she took his contract to have the O'Briens eliminated. He was frail and ancient. She saw this as returning a favor to an old friend, although she doubted he knew it was her on the other end.
It was more than likely this phrase was a coincidence. Yet, she couldn't get him out of her head...
"Hello, 47. Your target is the online influencer, James Wyatt—better known by his alias, 'Tsardine.' Having started his career by creating videos of himself playing video games, his content took a steady shift into a more political direction. By preaching the idea of masculinity making someone more 'alpha,' he achieved a cult-like following who were willing to give him anything.
"James has realized that, and made millions by posing various subscriptions and services to his fans, claiming they'd teach how to make money as quickly as he did. His growing presence garnered an extremely notorious and controversial reputation, but that has not stopped him. His online empire only grows larger—and that is where we come in.
"Our client, James' brother, has not had a big cut of the fortune as he'd have liked. After several disputes with him, he has decided the best course of action is to have him taken out of the picture. James holds a flash drive containing crucial data about his business, and it never leaves his person. If our client can get his hands on that and lose his brother in the process, he will be set for life."
Location: Crockett, Texas
Target: The Influencer
Not even the moonlight was looking on at James, nor crickets to keep him company. Trudging down the lone street sandwiched between a dense forest and vast prairies, his legs and stomach were cramping. His phone was still at the estate, along with everything else being torn apart. But he still had everything else—the flash drive in his pocket made sure of that. He'd have leather seats and the women on his thighs again.
The small light of a payphone in the distance brought some relief. There was a biting worry, though, considering his wallet was among the other items left behind. But as he made it, he grinned at his fortune.
Under the keypad was a sticker with Bud Davis' campaign slogan: "Don't be a stick in the mud! Vote Bud!" Below that were a few coins left as charity. James Wyatt, reduced to relying on luck and payphones to survive, he thought. What a joke.
Sliding in a coin, he dialed a number. "Alan, it's me, James. Have you seen our surveillance footage?"
He nodded to his words. "Whoever Surtr is, he's literally brainwashing all these sheep. Everything that forum post said I did? Bullshit. People wanna look for anything to use against me. They want me to fail because they can't have what I have, simple as that."
James clicked his tongue. "I don't know—I got separated from everyone after that goddamn riot somehow broke past the gate! I just ran. Now I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere and I can't see shit. Just pick me up. My knees hurt, I'm thirsty, and I feel like something's watching me. Like a coyote or something..."
Indeed, having stalked James along the treeline, Agent 47 only had his fiber wire tensed between his hands. "That is James Wyatt, a cult-like personality who took full advantage of his followers to cash in millions," Diana said.
47 only just stepped out of the shrubbery when light caught the corner of his eye. He cursed to himself, ducking back into hiding.
It was a pair of headlights belonging to a white, nondescript van. James perked up from the phone, sighing in exhausted relief. He put the phone back, walking toward the vehicle with a re-energized bounce to his step.
The van drew near, and James waved his arms high in the air. It slowed to a stop. Its lights crawled up James' legs, soon capturing his entirety.
"Thank god," he breathed, moving to the van door without a second thought. "You have no idea what kind of shitty day I've had. Y'all came at exactly the perfect—" James stumbled back when he reached the driver's window. He tripped over the small drop from the street and the prairie.
The driver had looked at him, revealing a cartoon rabbit's mask, stained with nature and red.
Emerging from the passenger seat was a giant. He rose as tall as the van itself, stomping around with the pace of a curious animal. In the headlights, 47 saw that a plastic cartoon bear mask was attached to his face.
"N-No! Stay back!" James screamed. The bear man grabbed him by his face with one hand, dragging him over the asphalt. "Let me go, you son of a bitch!" James struck and hit the bear man's hand, but not once did he flinch. He pulled over the back doors, literally throwing James inside. He slammed the doors shut, and the rabbit woman clicked a button that locked them.
Agent 47 was at a loss. There was no telling what these kidnappers would do; he never had to account for this before. He considered letting them go—they didn't look like the sort to leave people alive. Then Diana spoke. "47. You need to show yourself. I will explain while you're in the vehicle, but these kidnappers won't kill you. And, if you let them go, you will never get your hands on James' flash drive."
That was enough for him to step on a tree branch, drawing the pair's eyes into the dark forest. Agent 47 stepped out, suit and tie and all. "Teddy! There's another one!" the rabbit woman screeched.
Teddy grunted, rounding the vehicle. His breath ran against the plastic mask, making a noise akin to plastic wrap. He stood a whole foot over Agent 47, and his hand was as big as the hitman's face when he grabbed him. Rather than be dragged along, 47 kept his footing and walked under his grasp.
He was thrown inside the van, using his arms to cushion the fall against the plywood floor. The doors slammed shut behind him.
The inside of the van was surprisingly vibrant, painted light blue with stickers of cartoon animals waving. They stood on lime-green hills with a simple sun drawn into the corner.
47 rose to meet eyes with a hyperventilating James Wyatt and four other victims, their faces red with tears.
Patrick proposed to Sarah a few days ago. They wanted to make a late-night drive next town to surprise Sarah's sister in person. Then a van rammed and flipped their car. They woke up here. They never once let go of each other's hands.
Maryam, a middle-aged churchgoer, repeated prayer after prayer. Volunteer work lasted longer than she thought, and the only thing on her mind during the drive was that her poodle, Turnip, missed her dearly.
Elodie had been wandering from town to town without a home for a few weeks. She'd hitchhiked up to this point, and everyone so far had been the loveliest people she ever met. She thought she could at least make it to her hometown to see if her parents' love lock was still there.
"I-I have people looking for me!" James declared. "Do you have any idea who you're fucking with? I'm Tsardine. James-fucking-Wyatt. An alpha dog!"
"Yeah, I ain't getting a single thing you're saying," the rabbit woman said, her mask casting a shadow through the gate separating the hunters from the prey. "But don't y'all worry your sweet little hearts. We're gonna release you back to nature..."
They turned down a dirt road, disappearing into the dense forest.
Agent 47's earpiece buzzed. "47, I've updated your mission profile. You have stumbled onto a red room livestream known in the darkest parts of the web as Hunting Season. The masked people you see are its hosts, Amelia and Eddie Thayer. 'Jackrabbit' and 'Teddy' respectively. Siblings, and... lovers. And as it is, they are already registered targets."
He suddenly regret leaving his Silverballers behind in town for the Agency to pick up.
"Raised in the Sons of Solidarity cult, Amelia and Eddie Thayer were out of town as missionaries when the compound was raided, and its members arrested. As soon as they heard the news, they disappeared. Years later, a livestream named Hunting Season was uploaded to the dark web by a user named Jackrabbit. The streams were locked behind a $10,000 paywall, but there were a few clips of its contents as a sample. There was quite an online stir surrounding this, but nobody was willing to fork up ten grand, and it was deduced that the sample clips were some expertly made film work. It was labeled as fake and left alone.
"However, Hunting Season is very real. For those who could afford it, they gained access to dozens of livestreams, each lasting entire nights worth of 12 hours. The content was all the same: Jackrabbit and Teddy start recording in the dead of night outside their home in a wooded area. Surrounded by an electric fence, they released kidnapped victims into the woods. After a short time, they set out to hunt the victims just like wild game.
"As its popularity among the cruelest of viewers rose, Hunting Season grew in quality. They hired editors, bought proper camera equipment, and even recruited a decent amount of Hunters. The amount of 'game' they capture and release into their woods also increased.
"Jackrabbit, the energetic and contrastingly sadistic co-host, is the face of Hunting Season. She greets the viewers every episode and is very popular among them. She actively takes part in the hunt, notably bringing her three German Shepherds and capturing the most violent footage up close and personal.
"Teddy, meanwhile, is a quiet hulk—but just as cruel as his sister. From their cottage, he manages the cameras placed on all the Hunters and around the woods. His personality takes a turn when he narrates everything in a showman-like attitude to bolster the viewers' energy. Teddy gets his spotlight when the last survivor is found. They are dragged into the cottage, where he and sometimes Jackrabbit torture the survivor for hours until they die—all for the viewers' pleasure. The 'Stuffed Animal' video that circulated a while back is one such case.
"By eliminating both Jackrabbit and Teddy alongside your original objectives, your payment will be tripled. I have faith that you will pull this off. Happy hunting, 47."
Contract Updated.
Location: Texas; between Crockett and Palestine
Targets: The Host, The Huntress, The Influencer
When they stopped, a motion sensor light turned on at the front, angled over a garage. Jackrabbit pulled open the back doors to show a myriad of bolt and pump action rifles aimed inside. Its wielders were men in black cargo jackets and pants, all wearing plastic wolf masks. Nobody offered any resistance as she put potato bags over their heads.
"Come on out, y'all!" she said. "Follow my lead, we won't bite."
The Prey formed a line out. Leaves crunched under their steps, and wet dirt stuck to them. The van's hums died away, and it was only the crickets chirping and everyone's breath.
After a minute of walking, they were made to stop. Another light turned on, even illuminating the inside of the bags. The Hunters' footsteps came to a stop. Someone aimed and flicked on a camera.
Jackrabbit's enthusiastic voice came next. "Howdy, y'all! It's Jackrabbit and Teddy, back with another night of Hunting Season!"
wp_antivirus: first
admira1: literally nobody cares wp
LamBros: its been a while but im glad im on time for once
love4ever912: i hope it's something different than the same old format
robinsonstopdog: HELL YEAHH
"Boy, do we have a perfect night lined up! With all the police tied up in the nationwide riots, we've gotten our hands on so much more game! We got a whole 20 to get through! Those authorities aren't skulking around for missing people no more when their own citizens are up in arms! And it's perfect timing for our first anniversary!"
"Yeah!" The Hunters cheered and celebrated by shooting into the sky, one gunshot after another.
"Alright, enough of that! It's time we see our Prey!" Jackrabbit spun towards Teddy. "Tear off those bags!"
He marched towards the lineup—slapping a giggling Jackrabbit's butt on the way. Teddy started with the first person, who was immediately assaulted with blinding flashlights and a camera at his face.
He hyperventilated again, mustering out incoherent mutterings of "Where am I?" The camera aimed lower, where his groin doused in urine.
wp_antivirus: wait holy shit thats tsardine?
LamBros: what kinda name is tsardine
robinsonstopdog: WOW A GROWN MAN PISSING HIMSELF
"Tsardine? The Youtuber guy?" Jackrabbit stepped closer, getting a better look at James. "I know you! That 'alpha dog' thing you said makes a lick of sense, now! With any luck, your manliness will let you be the last to live!" She pinched James' nose, wiggling it as if playing with a baby.
Teddy went down the line with Jackrabbit's commentary. Sarah. Patrick. Maryam. Elodie. Agent 47.
When Jackrabbit unmasked him, he was blinded by the sudden beam of light over his face. Thankfully, the woman stepped in between like a shield. Behind the mask, he could tell she was curious. For one, he didn't scream or cry like the others did. Only stared into Jackrabbit's eyes.
LamBros: what a boring guy
robinsonstopdog: BRO LOOKS LIKE A FUCKING EGG
admira1: most likeable prey already goes to this guy and its not even close
wp_antivirus: yawn
love4ever912: agreed, admira1
"You're pretty... quiet." Hunting Season never had this much dead air. The Preys' horrified reactions made for some nice entertainment, both for the Hunters and the viewers. This silence was a first. Jackrabbit cleared her throat. "That's one nice suit. Must be working some high-end business stuff, huh?"
He looked into the carved-out holes of black that were her eyes. "You could say that."
Behind the mask, she frowned. Jackrabbit leaned to his ear. "I can't wait to literally tear that blank stare off your face." With that, she whirled around. Her rifle flew over her shoulder. The cold barrel pressed against 47's head. "Baldie here will be my Mark!" she announced. "If I kill this guy within the first three hours, y'all get to see me skin his face off and nail it to a tree!"
Teddy continued down the line, unmasking everyone. The rest of the Prey responded in the same, expected way. The last one, a woman wearing a white jacket, was crying silently. When that was done, Jackrabbit passed the selfie stick to Teddy.
She went to a fabric canopy behind her, gearing up. She strapped a camera to her forehead—a similar fixture was on every other Hunter. Hanging the rifle on her shoulder, she took a tally counter.
"I'm ready!" Jackrabbit cried, raising her rifle into the air. In her other hand, she held the last bit of hunting equipment: three German Shepherds, barking ferociously at the Prey.
Teddy nodded. Amping up his voice until it boomed and echoed, he stood aside. "Hunters! Are you ready?"
"Ready!"
"Prey! Are you ready?"
Muddled crying and pleas arose.
"The Prey get a minute-long grace period to disperse into the woods. And that starts now."
The Prey glanced at each other for a second. Then Teddy spoke again. "59... 58..." That was enough to get them running into the trees. The Hunters hollered, shooting into the air to make them hurry.
Jackrabbit waltzed up to her co-host. "How about a good luck kiss?"
He tilted his head down at her, then offered his hand. "Anything for you, Sis."
The two slid their masks halfway up, exposing their lips to each other. Jackrabbit stood on her toes—not that it mattered since Teddy hugged her off the ground. They shared a deep kiss.
When they let go, Teddy glanced around. He lost count... but he saw no Prey around. Turning to the Hunters, he declared, "Let the hunt begin!"
Everywhere Agent 47 looked, skinned and decomposing faces stared back, nailed onto the trees. Moonlight peeked from the treetops, giving just enough light to let everyone know where they were going.
47 kept low to a crouch, marking the nearby shrubbery in his head. He wanted to get to the supposed perimeter of the grounds, first making circles with his steps and walking back on himself multiple times. If anyone was on his trail, he needed to delay them.
Faint words threw 47 into a bush.
"I... I can't run anymore..." Maryam, heaving, stumbled against a tree. "I can't do this..."
Sarah came next. She knelt to the older woman, taking her hand. "We're going to! People are going to realize we're missing. There's going to be a search, and we just need to be here when it happens..."
"You mean like all the other disappearances that happened here?" Patrick joined them. "The police have been struggling with these for a year now! And with all this riot stuff happening, there's no way we're gonna be found..."
Maryam cried.
"You're not helping, Patrick!" Sarah said, and he turned his gaze away. Spotting James behind them, her throat clenched. "Where's Elodie?"
If James heard her question, he didn't answer it. "What the fuck are you all doing? We need to go!"
"Maryam is too tired," Patrick said. "But I don't think we were followed, so—"
"So they're definitely catching up with us! Let's leave her. A fat old lady like her would never survive this."
An alarm blared, making everyone cover their ears. A sickly pale took each of their faces as they spun around to where the noise came from. It was a hunting camera, stuck into the ground. Patrick ran to it, first, hitting and wrestling it to the ground. The noise kept going.
"Shut it up!" James yelled.
"I'm trying!"
James spun around. With a scream that pierced the alarm, he grabbed the person closest to him: Sarah. He held her in front of him.
The approaching Hunter raised his rifle and fired.
Sarah's head flicked back, then dropped.
"Sarah!" Patrick yelled.
James yelped as blood splattered on his face. He dropped her, and she collapsed on the dirt. The Hunter fired again, but everyone was on their feet, taking off in different directions. Patrick hesitated but ran in the end.
"Easy pickings," he remarked, flashing his light down at Sarah. He pulled out a tally counter similar to Jackrabbit's and clicked down to subtract a Prey.
Another Hunter strolled up. "If anything, that guy should get the credit for this kill. It was like he was holding her just for you!"
"You got that right." He tread back to pick his shells up. "When we get this body back, I'mma go after the rest of this group. You?"
"I don't know, man. The reason I signed up for this night's jig was because the Artisan agreed to come on. Then he up and died, so that was a total bust..."
When it became clear they'd be stuck in conversation, Agent 47 carefully emerged on the other side of the bush. He placed his steps gently, knowing that the slightest noise could tip them off. Only when their voices died to silence did he speed up again.
47 kept moving in the same direction. The Hunters were already in the area; he kept more of an ear out. Faint gunshots echoed in the distance, accompanied by shouts and cries.
After some walking, he spotted a small glint in the moonlight. And if the smell was anything to go by, it was another kill. Fairly fresh, too. In the center of the growing blood pool was a woman nearly decapitated. Only the left side of her neck kept her in one piece. Something had slashed at her shoulder, cutting diagonally and through the spine.
47 recognized her as Elodie.
But there was nobody around, and the work didn't seem like that of a human. Grabbing a nearby fallen branch, he prodded around.
The branch caught on a small wire. Gears groaned and twisted. From the ground, a metal box sprung open. A mechanical arm lashed out, chopping the branch in two with an attached blade.
Diana spoke. "Do you remember the contract on Declan O'Brien? His computer contained evidence that he sold a few of his old, murderous contraptions. This 'jack-in-the-box' is one of them."
While the arm retracted itself into its nondescript metal box, 47 untied the tripwire. He tugged on it, pulling it through the ground and revealing the pull mechanism to him. Storing it in mind, he continued his trek past it.
When a beam of light flashed over him, Agent 47 jumped behind a tree.
The light hovered over, and he heard a trio of non-stop barking. Peeking out, 47 made out a silhouette looming over the incline with three dogs on leash. They ran in his direction, gun in the person's hand.
47 looked ahead. The cover provided by the tree led nowhere substantial. He grit his teeth; the barking drew close.
"I saw that!" the familiar voice yelled. Jackrabbit let the dogs lead the way, taking her through the woods in a sprint. It was just a flicker of movement, but she knew somebody was there.
She fired once, hitting the tree trunk. "Come out, cocksucker! We know you're behind there!" The dogs were ferociously yapping, now, jumping at the very ends of their leashes.
Jackrabbit danced around the tree, letting the dogs at the Prey and training her rifle... only for nothing to be there.
The German Shepherds, however, put their front legs on the trunk, barking at something in the treetop. Jackrabbit glared up, but it was too dark to make anything out.
She reached for her light when something plopped on the ground. The dogs went haywire, surrounding the object and biting it to shreds. "Easy, boys! Easy!" They didn't listen; Jackrabbit forcefully separated the three.
She picked out the object, bits of flesh dripping off of it. It was a desecrated body of what was once a squirrel. "Honestly, you boys..." She tossed the carcass aside. "Come on. We got real Prey to catch!" With that, they ran off.
In the tree, bloodied rock in hand, Agent 47 released his breath. Only when the dogs' barking was gone did he climb down. These woods were too open for his liking. Nonetheless, he continued walking.
"That is Jackrabbit, the younger sister. She never let go of her roots in the Sons of Solidarity, believing this show to be her way of returning humanity to its very origins. Life in a feast or famine world. She's rather enthusiastic about it, too."
The perimeter of Hunting Season was marked by an electric fence. 47 stopped a fair distance away from it. It was marked by flashing lights, triggered by motion. Dotting the floor around the fences were several dead bodies. The Hunters who claimed their lives stood beside them, armed with their weapon of choice. A gun for the ones shot to death, and a machete for the ones with their brains splattered across the dirt. They pocketed their victims in dark body bags.
Beyond the fence was a flowing river. The Prey were likely attracted to the noise and ran in desperation. The Hunters knew that.
"That's the electric fence," Diana said. "Its power source is indicated to be within the cottage."
A myriad of barking made another's presence known. The three German Shepherds, mouths chalked with blood, led their owner around. Rifle over her shoulder, blood staining her arms, she whistled a jolly tune.
Jackrabbit twitched her head at a jingle coming through her earpiece. An automated voice played, reading out a suggestive message, followed by the sender and a number. In a chipper voice, Jackrabbit replied, "A generous $1,000 donation from 'wp_antivirus!' Thank you kindly!" She wiped her hand on her mask, smearing it with blood.
While leaving, 47 noticed a trail running through the mud. They were left in a panic—a glance behind told him that a pair of Hunters picked up on it, too. Ducking down, 47 hurried along the track.
"She was a wonderful woman," Maryam said, wrapping her arm around a hyperventilating Patrick. The Bible was at their side. "I know that God will welcome her."
"Will..." He choked. "Will I see her if I let these guys kill me?"
Maryam shook her head. "Your time is only up when God wills it. And... Sarah wouldn't want that for you."
James sat a few feet away, arms crossed. "When are we going? The longer we stay here, the more these guys will catch up with us."
"You're the last person who should be scared. You have two body shields, after all..." Patrick spat.
"That happened because you can't realize weak links when you see them! You tried helping this lady, and they found us! I didn't have a choice!"
"You always have a choice," Maryam said. "You had a choice to help keep watch—even to run past us. But you made the decision that reflects the person you are."
Rapid footsteps in the dirt made the three turn their heads up at the same time. They stumbled around as they saw a figure running towards them, only to calm down when his face appeared in the moonlight.
"You... You were in the van with us," James said.
Agent 47 went to a nearby sapling, tearing off branches and skinning the leaves off. With a sharp rock, he immediately began peeling the branches into sharp spikes.
"What are you doing?" Patrick asked.
"You left a trail. Two Hunters are on their way. I'm setting something up for them."
Glancing between him and the sticks, James was the first to walk over and help make more. Then Patrick, then Maryam.
Punji sticks were a common booby trap deployed by the Viet Cong. There weren't any poisonous substances to go around, but they'd serve their purpose. With the other three's help, they had enough spikes to cover most of the area.
Following 47's lead, they helped dig small holes in the ground to leave the spikes, covering them with thin material. James worked beside the hitman, and he said, "I want to know what your plan is."
47 continued working. "We're going to knock them out. Then take their clothes as a disguise."
"But these Hunters go around in pairs. It'll be useless if you're alone." James finished up with his stack of spikes. "I'll take the other guy's fit. Whatever you do, I'll be there with you."
Agent 47 nodded. It was fortunate that James had enough initiative to see eye-to-eye; he didn't want to think about how long it would to convince Patrick or Maryam to join him. "Don't say anything suspicious when you wear them. Their cameras pick up audio."
Once everyone was done, 47 had everyone hide behind bushes and trees. When the beam of a flashlight came over, it was dead silent.
The two Hunters and their wolf masks followed suit and relaxed in their steps. In all their times on Hunting Season, it was always the same, delightful night that awaited. Nobody knows how liberating it is to kill people without the threat of police or others' horror until they try it. So first Hunter never would have thought to check his feet when he sank.
A spike pierced through his foot, and he let out a screech that fit perfectly with his wolf mask.
His partner jumped back, startled by his friend's scream. When he landed, though, the leaves under his foot gave way. He, too, joined the chorus of howling.
"Can I have that?" 47 whispered to Maryam. She glanced down, hesitantly nodding.
Agent 47 ran up to the Hunter at the back. He smashed the Bible's spine against his head, sending him onto the dirt, unconscious. 47 took his rifle, ran to the last man, and struck him with the butt. Both Hunters stopped howling.
47 and James already set to work, donning the wolf masks and the cameras strapped to their heads. They only faced the ground for a few seconds before recovering; the viewers shouldn't have noticed anything amiss. The two then stripped the Hunters of their clothes and grabbed their equipment.
Patrick and Maryam dragged the bodies into a distant spot of bushes. Maryam put the bloodied Bible back in her bag, and as discussed, they stayed hidden there with one of the rifles.
Agent 47 looked through the Hunter's phone. To access something as grim as Hunting Season, the user typically needed a third-party app to bypass online security. He found the app at the end page. Tapping it brought him onto a search engine that looked like it came from the early 2000s. There was only one bookmark.
In a few seconds, the app opened a video player. Agent 47 put it on mute just as it started.
The footage was captured from a camera strapped to a person's head. Jackrabbit. She was running—chasing a blurry figure in a white jacket.
Each time the camera bobbed down and up, the white jacket was nearer. German Shepherds could be seen running past the point of view. They reached the white jacket's legs. At the last bob, the camera spun around. It unveiled the runner pinned to the ground, horror taking over her face. Jackrabbit brought a machete to the woman's face. She was mouthing something: Please. Don't.
She thrust it into her neck. Blood flooded out of the woman's neck. She retched and coughed. Jackrabbit slashed at her face, splitting it in two. The machete fell again and again, mashing her face until it no longer resembled one.
wp_antivirus: kill the ugly ass bitch!
admira1: deserved. she was so fucking annoying
robinsonstopdog: LOLOLOLOLOL
LamBros: ur so good with the machete
love4ever912: ok
Jackrabbit pulled her tally out. As she pressed the button, the number in the corner went down by one. There were 13 Prey left.
James approached him, waiting for their next action.
"We'll be going back to the cottage for better equipment," 47 said.
"Sounds good. So, what do we need?"
...
Teddy missed the days when it was only him and Sis. Back when there was only one or two Prey to go around, and their videos were meant for home. Then she brought home other men. Younger, lighter, faster. Hunting Season was her thing, now. And his job was to watch the cameras—the same old shit that he should be doing.
But he always forgave her in the end. They had all the time in the world, after all.
From his room filled with monitors for each Hunter, he noticed two had their cottage gates in view. Teddy flicked through the cameras to the one at the gates. Another pair of Hunters returned; probably here for a drink or something.
Without another thought, he remotely opened the gates.
Soon enough, Sis would be here with him. He got hard thinking about the way they'd torture the last Prey. Even harder imagining his sister straddling the corpse.
Agent 47 and James stepped past a few relaxed Hunters taking a break, entering the house. "Hey, you forgot to turn off your cameras," one said, and they promptly did so. It was surprisingly tidy and spotless, infected with the smell of chemicals and bleach. It was your typical household, complete with a cozy living room and a TV playing a kid's cartoon featuring a pair of bear and rabbit protagonists.
There was an empty hall beside the TV, two doors on each side and one at the very end. Each one was marked with blue tape and words written by marker.
The first two were labeled as the bathroom and the garage. They were exactly as advertised, although the tools in the garage's rack were absent. There were a few spare car batteries, though.
The next ones were the "Meat Room" and the "Fun Room." James and 47 took their respective doors.
Upon opening the Meat Room, James recoiled from the mere smell. Holding his breath, he reluctantly stepped inside. Lights flickered on, and he paled.
It was a butcher's room. Hooks hung from the ceiling, holding fully flayed human bodies. The only parts of them that weren't a sickly red were their eyes, wide and permanently open. Blood stains led into a drain in the center of the room. At the sides were metal tables with cleavers and chopped-up bits.
James ripped his mask off and vomited.
The Fun Room was more akin to a metal box, dimly lit with a grating floor. Under the grating was a pool of red leading into a sewer pipe. There was a bloodied chair in the center, and beside the door was a counter with an assortment of tools. He recognized the place as where the "Stuffed Animal" tape was filmed.
Agent 47 found the one he was looking for: the bolt cutters.
The two reunited in the hall, albeit one worse for wear than the other.
"I... I'm gonna ask the guys outside where the spare weapons and stuff are. You can deal with the generator..."
47 nodded, watching him hurry out of the hall. He then looked to the last door, plainly marked, "DO NOT ENTER." He gently twisted the knob, pushing it open.
The first thing he saw was the hulking bear man across the room, sitting in front of a dozen monitors. Their blue light was the only thing illuminating the room. 47 slipped inside, ducking behind a desk.
"That is Teddy, the big brother. His voice only comes out when on camera, and at the drop of a pen, he can go from a gentle giant into a rampaging bear. Violent he may be, his size rendered him too slow to take part in the hunts anymore. That's why his role is to torture the last survivor in a snuff film. He has a day job as a supplier, providing local fast food chains with fresh meat..."
Teddy was engrossed in one particular monitor. It was a snuff film, recorded in the very room down the hall. The victim screamed and cried for mercy as he and Jackrabbit worked on him. Teddy was masturbating every time Jackrabbit was on screen.
47 eyed his objective to the side. It was another room, and where the electric fence's generator was marked by Diana. First, he kept his eye on Teddy, hand dangling over the bolt cutters. Teddy was isolated in a room nobody would enter for a good while. But a man of his stature could easily overpower 47. Even with a surprise attack, it would take a lot to bring him down. The following scuffle would be too noisy.
He went to the generator room. In there was a large, humming machine with a control panel greeting him. 47 unscrewed the panel, revealing a mess of wires. Diana fed him the model type and the information needed to work through it. Making sure he had the right wires, 47 tore them out.
The generator stopped humming. From the other room, a chair decompressed as though a weight was lifted from it. The snuff film was in the middle of a scream when it abruptly paused. He screwed the panel back on as footsteps neared.
Teddy burst through the door, groaning. He tapped at the generator, pressing every button and flicking all the switches to no avail. He swore under his breath. Teddy banged his fist against the metal, crunching through the material like paper. Grumbling something about a waste of money, he left the room.
47 stepped out from behind the generator, eyeing the crater in the control panel. Peeking through the door, Teddy was at the monitors again. 47 slipped away.
James waited for him, hugging three rifles with pockets stuffed with boxes of ammunition. He nodded to 47, turning to let him grab a rifle. Reorienting himself, James looked to the room behind him. "Can't we just go in and shoot the guy?"
"And attract every Hunter here?"
He clicked his tongue. "Right..."
The pair left the cottage, cameras off. By that time, only seven Prey remained.
They were back in the woods. 47 wanted to head somewhere before the fence gate, and so led the way with James behind him. "How are you unfazed by all this...?"
47 kept walking.
"I thought I got rid of this kind of fear... but when I see you, you don't so much as blink. Who are you?"
"Tobias Rieper. A corporate liquidator."
James scowled. Before he could say his piece, though, something sprinted after them. Cutting through the darkness, barks like thunder came with three dogs baring their teeth. James fell on his bum, yelping when the German Shepherds leaped.
Their leashes kept James' feet intact.
"Down, boys! Those are our guys!" Jackrabbit's voice followed, and her rabbit mask followed suit. They did not listen, and Jackrabbit shook her head. "Hold them for me," she said to her accompanying Hunter, passing the leashes. Agent 47 stood still; stiff compared to her lax movements.
Patting her dogs as she walked up to the pair, she spoke, "Hey, have any of you seen Johnny and Leyton? They were following a trail from the perimeter, and we haven't heard from them since."
"Can't say that we have," 47 said. "Maybe they're at the cottage?"
"Maybe. I was heading there to ask Teddy, anyway." As James rose, legs shaking, she turned her gaze to him. The dogs never stopped trying to get at him. "I don't know what's gotten into them. Honest. They only get like this at the people I wanna kill."
"Y-Yeah. Of course."
Jackrabbit tilted her head. "What's got you in a fix? You ain't gonna do much if the dogs got you like this."
James bit his lips, at a loss for words.
"Say, what's your name?"
A gunshot boomed through the air. Everyone flinched—the dogs quieted—as Agent 47 aimed the smoking rifle off to the side. Following the barrel, a Prey scrambled out of a nearby bush and ran.
"We're in the middle of a hunt, Jackrabbit." Agent 47 grabbed the bullet casing. "You wouldn't want to bore your viewers with us. That's a waste of everyone's time."
wp_antivirus: who tf does this guy think he is?
admira1: jackrabbit i think u gotta re-enlist the guys u work with
robinsonstopdog: DONT TALK TO HER LIKE THAT
LamBros: first time i wanted to strangle one of the Hunters
love4ever912: hes right u know, i dont have all day
Jackrabbit put a hand on her hip, sizing up to him. He couldn't tell what face she made behind the mask, but in a low tone, she answered, "Thank you for the feedback." She spun around, taking the leashes from her companion to give chase. "Come on! That could have been my Mark! Bald bastard hasn't shown himself all night..."
Once they were gone, James gripped his mask, fighting the urge to rip it off—he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. His sweat made the plastic stick on and off his skin. But if I don't stand up again, what good of a man am I? he thought. So, he rose.
47 continued walking, and he forced himself to follow.
James watched him dig up an odd, metal box that was on the floor, then bring it with him. Eventually, a familiar bush came into view. Seeing as his partner was burdened with the cargo, James ran over first.
He peeked into the bush for Maryam and Patrick to stare up at him, terrified. James put a finger to his lips, unmasking with a smug grin. The two sighed in relief, and Agent 47 also took his mask off.
Noticing 47 staring at the new pile of punji sticks, Patrick answered. "We didn't know how to pass the time, so we just kept carving.
47's eyes narrowed. "Did anyone see you?"
"No. I kept an ear out, and Maryam was watching from the bush."
He nodded. "We'll need them. We're going to the fence."
"The fence?" Maryam asked. "Why?"
"We got the generator, and he has bolt cutters." James pointed at 47. "That fence is our only way out."
"Yeah, well, those lights and the trail cams there are gonna make every Hunter come running," Patrick said.
"I know," 47 said. He nodded to James, who revealed the extra guns and ammunition he brought. The sight of that and the punji spikes convinced the others of the plan. With that, they were off.
Four Prey remained.
...
"Why, I just don't get it!" Jackrabbit leaned her forehead against the wall in mock agony. "They're not at the cottage, their cameras are off, and none of us can find them!"
"Aw, Honey Bunches..." Teddy came behind her, embracing his sister in a tight bear hug. She reciprocated with as much strength as she had, giggling. "I think they did come inside at one point. Don't get why their cameras are off, though. Maybe you'll find them when we've hunted all the Prey."
Jackrabbit gently unleashed herself from her brother's grasp. "Yeah... that'll be more fun."
As she said that, a faint alarm went off. They both turned to the wall of monitors, where one lit up a bright red. "A trail cam!" Teddy said, hurrying over to the computer. He widened the screen.
Jackrabbit couldn't believe her eyes. "Is that... Johnny and Leyton? Why are they helping the Prey escape?" No. That wasn't right. She passed by those two earlier during the search. Who she saw weren't Hunters. She doubted the real Johnny and Leyton were still conscious.
"They're not being very smart about it, though. Everyone knows they're there."
"What I wanna know is how they got the jump on our guys!"
Jackrabbit's hands clenched into fists. "Well, that's my cue to go." She bore her mask, slung the rifle around her shoulder, and holstered her machete at her hip. Opening the door to Teddy's room, she was greeted by her three dogs playfully licking at her. "I just hope the Hunters leave some fun for me..."
...
"Someone help!" a Hunter screeched.
Another pair of Hunters ran over to see an ugly sight. His ankle was stuck in the floor, surrounded by splotches of blood. He had torn his wolf mask off, eyes filled with water as the pain surged every inch he moved.
His partner was in a similar state, having run over to help prior. "Don't come near us!" he yelled in contrast. "The bastards put these spikes everywhere!"
The unharmed Hunters looked at each other. Suddenly, the faint screams coming from this area made sense. "Wow... for once the Prey is smart!"
"Not really." His partner pointed at the perimeter light, which remained on. "They should have realized that place is no good after the first round of killings. We just oughta look where we step, and it'll be fine."
"Yeah..." Though he said that, he couldn't help but wonder if the Prey wanted them to come. But his partner had a point. They were the ones with the guns. He looked at the trapped pair. "We'll get Teddy to round you folk up! Just sit tight!"
"Not like we're going anywhere else, dipshit!"
The Hunter laughed, leaving the two behind. The pair made sure to sweep the ground ahead of them; they unearthed dozens of spike traps that way.
Making their way over an incline, they spotted the two Prey (and the apparent traitors) at the gate. The first Hunter eyed Maryam—this would all be worth it if he got his hands on her. He had a very 'unhealthy' reaction to people of her stature; Hunting Season was the only place he could vent those desires without the shackles of society restraining him.
"The fat bitch is mine!" he shouted.
"Don't fucking yell!" his partner snapped. "You want them to flee before we get there?" He walked ahead, looking at him as he spoke. "Don't forget the fundamentals of hunting. You gotta—"
His foot caught a wire. A branch strapped with punji spikes loosened, rubber-banding into his stomach. Blood spurted from his mouth as it clamped him against the tree.
"Oh, shit!" The first Hunter ran to help his friend, trying to pull the branch free as he choked on blood. But even if he was strong enough, it wouldn't have mattered. He stopped moving, dead.
The Hunter stumbled back, breath frantic. He shot his gaze toward the survivors, honing in on Maryam. He ditched the gun, opting for his machete and running. Everything would be worth it if he got his hands on her...
Patrick called out the approaching Hunter.
Maryam raised his machete with her hunting rifle.
The Hunter could only widen his eyes when she fired. He crumpled over in seconds.
admira1: what the actual fuck is happening
robinsonstopdog: STOP FALLING IN THESE STUPID TRAPS AND KILL THESE FUCKERS
wp_antivirus: did you guys kidnap fucking rambo or something?
LamBros: it isnt fun seeing hunters get so hurt like this
love4ever912: this is very exciting, we get to see the Hunters be challenged for once
James, Patrick, and Maryam kept watch at the cardinal directions. Patrick and Maryam had to be taught how to use their weapons but picked it up quickly. Aiming was another hurdle, but as long as they fired near the Hunters, they'd get the job done.
Agent 47, meanwhile, finished cutting a hole through the chain link fence. "I'm through!" he said, and the three hurried back.
James put himself at a distance, keeping guard while Patrick and Maryam ducked into the hole. Maryam went last, and she had to leave her rifle temporarily to squeeze through.
Patrick was already moving ahead, drawn by the sound of the nearby river. The sooner they went along its path, the sooner they'd reach town. Maryam, though, was more hesitant. "What about you, dear? Aren't you two coming?"
"I'll be fine," Agent 47 said. "There's a few things to do before I go."
"But you'll be..." Maryam quit her protest as he put the wolf mask on. Clearly, he was more than capable of handling himself. She offered one last smile before leaving. "God bless you."
Agent 47 clicked the counter twice. Two Prey remained.
James ran up beside 47, sighing at the disappearing figures. "Damn cowards."
"You're not going?"
He hit 47's shoulder. "You aren't, either, and there's only one reason why. No way in hell are we letting this bitch get away with what she did to us."
"I like the way you think."
"You too, man. Do you still have that Hunter's phone?"
"Yes."
"Great. I have an idea..."
...
This was Baldie's work. Jackrabbit was sure of it. Neither she nor any of the Hunters saw him or his slick suit once, and all of a sudden two of them go missing. Now their forest is rigged with booby traps, and dozens of the Hunters are crying in pain.
Most of them hobbled or were carried back to the cottage, leaving unusually few in the forest. Normally, this hour saw the last survivor being dragged back, prepped for the beloved second part. They'd be kicking and screaming and crying, begging for mercy—or a painless death. The viewers loved seeing neither be granted.
Now, it seemed that even they grew antsy.
Jackrabbit swept away a punji stick covering away at one step and disarmed a whip trap at another. She crouched low, anticipating to hear the opposing gunfire at any moment. She held her dogs' leashes close, stalking through the familiar woods.
An alarm blared. Jackrabbit aimed in its direction, spotting the trail camera emitting it. There was nothing immediately obvious. It sounded again. Growing antsy, she picked up the pace.
user_47 triggered Camera C
wp_antivirus: who tf is user_47
LamBros: theres literally nobody on that camera why are u ringing it
Jackrabbit stopped between two trees, shining her light on the floor. As she thought, a tripwire was present.
There was a rustle above. She fired into the treetops.
Something sprung. A branch launched forward, nailed with wooden spikes. Jackrabbit raised her arm to block her face. A searing pain dug into her arm as the branch hit its mark, dragging across her skin like a knife. Her grip softened, and the leashes fell.
In a flurry of barks, her dogs all ran in separate directions, barking madly. She cursed, not wanting to give her position away by calling them back. Jackrabbit backed herself against a tree, wrapping cloth around her wounded arm before equipping the rifle again.
Forcing herself into silence, she went into the fray once more. There was a path; it must have belonged to Baldie.
From the other tree, Agent 47 climbed down. As Jackrabbit disappeared into the darkness, he followed her trail.
James' shotgun ripped through the air. Jackrabbit ran behind a tree as a second shot was fired. She grimaced, feeling what felt like pebbles sticking into her leg and arm. Some of the pellets scratched her mask, which she felt from the cold air now hitting her face.
Jackrabbit ripped her mask off, eyeing the blood that stained it. Growling, she left the cover and returned fire. She saw his silhouette duck down, retreating. She chased after it with a limp.
But as she made ground, the fence came into view—as did the gaping hole. "Fuck... Fuck! No!" She broke out of her stealth, hurrying in disbelief. As if, by some chance, her eyes played tricks on her.
Jackrabbit looked towards the cottage. This wasn't entertaining, anymore. If the Prey were loose, they needed the van to round them up again. If they reached civilization, Hunting Season was done for.
robinsonstopdog: BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT
LamBros: i thought the fence was electrocuted?
admira1: where did these fuckers even get the tools to cut through it
Eyeing the chat, Jackrabbit took a breath. She ducked into the hole, squeezing past the fence. Her machete got caught, snapping off her belt. She grunted in annoyance, figuring she'd grab it when everyone was dead. "The hunt only ends when I say it does..."
wp_antivirus: OH SHIT SHE GOING FOR IT
robinsonstopdog: GO QUEEN GO
robinsonstopdog: HUNT THOSE DIPSHITS DOWN
Jackrabbit stopped making noise completely. The last time she hunted like this, the Prey were wild animals... She forgot how serene it could be. Peaceful. Maybe when this was over, she and Teddy could go on a hunting date.
Only the nearby river created a natural ambiance. She stayed low, moving in a steady crouch. Jackrabbit kept a finger on the trigger, watching for anything that moved.
Her head twitched at the slightest sound...
Then a loud, dizzying jingle rang in her ear.
user_47 donated $0.01
Agent 47 ran from his hiding spot in the bushes. He drove Jackrabbit's machete into her back, watching her gasp and lurch violently forward. The rifle fired at nothing.
Her foot caught on a wire.
A metal box opened with a mechanical arm. Though she was in shock, Jackrabbit recognized the device. She raised her rifle, deflecting the box's blade and protecting her neck. The blade slid down the gun, moving until it could strike.
After meeting the end of the barrel, the blade slashed. Jackrabbit choked with blood as it ran across her stomach, and her intestines spilled out.
She dropped her rifle, going on all fours. Her head was over the riverbank, now, and in the moonlight's reflection, Baldie finally appeared. Amelia had enough strength to face him, pale and drenched in sweat. She looked like an ordinary person.
Agent 47 placed the barrel of her gun against her forehead. He fired. She fell into the river, disappearing down the current.
"Jackrabbit—Amelia Thayer—eliminated," Diana said.
He clicked the counter. One Prey left.
robinsonstopdog: NOOOOOOOOOOOO
LamBros: how did he do that?
wp_antivirus: this is fucking bullshit so unfair
LamBros: i feel sick
robinsonstopdog: SOMEONE KILL THIS HUMAN TRASH
robinsonstopdog: WHY ARE YOU ALL LETTING HIM DO THIS
admira1: i didnt pay for this shit
love4ever912: jackrabbit let her pride and emotions take over and lost because of that. beautiful twist
Teddy restarted Jackrabbit's monitor for the seventh time. Still, it gave the same result: a black, silent screen.
The dogs were home, sat lined up and panting in front of Teddy. They never received the pets they wanted, though. He buried himself in his arms, unleashing a torrent of ugly cries. The tears gathered and dripped from the bottom of his mask.
In one of their mouths was Jackrabbit's bloodied and torn mask. It whimpered, and another dog licked at Teddy's leg. Only then did his hand fall over its fur, stroking it gently. "You're right, Moe..." he said. "It's up to me now. I gotta make Sis proud."
He forced himself up, trudging out of his room and down the hall. That was where the remaining Hunters, making a mess of the place. Lying in awkward places, groaning in pain as they tried what they could to plug the holes in their feet or stomachs. Getting their blood all over his home. "What are you all doing...?" he mumbled. "You should be out there finding this last dickhead!"
One Hunter, mask off and drenched in sweat, grimaced. "Fuck that shit! I'm not going out there again!"
"One of the Prey you brought is a fucking psycho!" another piped up, horrified by the hole in his heel. "The fucker killed Jackrabbit! What were you thinking with... whoever this last guy is?!"
"And now your sister or girlfriend or whatever is gone... that's it. There's no point in us coming out here again. Fuck this place and fuck you."
Teddy stared, unmoving. Not even his fingers twitched. The first Hunter felt his heart sink, only now realizing what good poking the bear would do. Hopping on one foot, he tried making it to the exit.
Teddy raised an iron bar.
...
James ran over to 47, spotting the trail of blood left from where Jackrabbit once was. Piecing together the picture with his partner reloading, he grinned. "Awesome, dude!" He noogied 47's shoulder. "That bitch should have known her place!"
He cheered loudly into the river, but the exhaustion and lack of sleep were finally catching up with James. He let out a breath, dwelling in the following silence. "When we're back in civilization, I'm buying you a drink. Or better yet..." James reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver flash drive. "I'm gonna give you everything, man. This is millions of dollars in assets and savings. I don't need it anymore. Just glad to be alive."
James tossed it to 47, who caught it without sparing a glance. "Flash drive retrieved," Diana said.
"There's still that bear guy back there, but I think we've done enough. We should get going." James started walking first, hobbling alongside the river in Patrick and Maryam's steps. He hoped Patrick wouldn't be too upset; there are plenty of fish in the sea, anyway. This whole experience would definitely bolster his audience, too—a masculine icon outsmarting a game of death... he could see the view count already.
Then a searing pain as his leg blew apart at a gunshot.
James fell to the ground, crying out in agony. He flopped around, spotting his assailant: the bald man. His breath quivered. "W-Why...?" was all he could utter.
Agent 47 walked up, hitting him with the butt of the rifle. Once he was silent, 47 grabbed his arm and began dragging. He took James through the fence, into the hunting grounds. He took him beyond the improvised traps and the dead Hunters. Their destination was the Thayer cottage.
Upon reaching the gate, though, he found it was left ajar. Keeping an eye behind him, Agent 47 continued with the transportation.
Opening the front door, the tidy and homely air was gone. Everything was splattered in red, from the floors and carpets to the bloody handprints on the walls. Brain matter stuck against the TV, still playing the same episode of the cartoon. Strewn across the home were bodies of the Hunters. Some were dismembered, others gutted. All had their heads smashed into a dozen pieces.
An encroaching stomp put 47 on defense. Teddy rounded the corner over the kitchen counter, eyeing the last 'Hunter.' Thinking quickly, the hitman lugged James over his shoulder, holding his face out to Teddy. "This is the man who killed Jackrabbit."
He hurried over grabbing James like a child taking candy. He turned him around, eyeing him like a prized doll. Teddy checked his pulse, raising his head slightly when he felt it. "And he's alive. Good. Good. Congratulations. You win. Everything." He looked down at 47. "Where's your partner?"
"Good as dead."
Teddy inclined his head in a nod. "Lucky you. You get to watch." James in hand, he stepped into a corpse's open chest and strolled down the hall.
47 followed him into the Fun Room.
Teddy threw James onto the chair, tying his limbs to it with zip ties. On the nearby counter with the assortment of tools, he turned on a camera. "Hello, chat," he greeted. "Jackrabbit is dead... but we got her killer." He motioned to James, whom he splashed with water. James tilted his head up, taking a few moments to remember what happened. And when he did, seeing Teddy and Agent 47 standing there, all the panic returned. "And he is going to pay the price for killing the woman we loved."
James screamed and begged for mercy. With that, Teddy set to work.
robinsonstopdog: LETS GOOOOOOOOO
admira1: DAMN BOIII cutting his lips off like that is a mercy to our ears
wp_antivirus: aaaand there goes his nipple, like a pepperoni slice
LamBros: hes outdoing himself. that hook going under his chin and out the mouth was a thing of beauty
wp_antivirus: there it is! the signature crush the eye with his thumb. always nice to see
love4ever912: ur a lot more aggressive than the past sessions. i like it.
"Where the hell did the bolt cutters go? Ah, hell.. don't need them."
admira1: hes going in with the metal rod
robinsonstopdog: BREAK HIS ARM BREAK IT BREAK IT
LamBros: you can actually hear the cracks
robinsonstopdog: DAMNNNNNN
wp_antivirus: i never knew you could tear someone's arm off like that
LamBros: idk i cant get hard thinking what could have happened to jackrabbit
Teddy, breath heavy, finally backed off. Holding the arm up, he said, "This... goes into the Meat Room." He looked to Agent 47. "You have fun with him. But don't kill him yet."
He left for the Meat Room, and the hitman was alone with James.
He was still breathing. Unconscious from the shock, but still breathing. Occasionally, he would tilt his head up in delirium, slurring his words before he passed out again.
47 grabbed a knife from the table. James' eyes pulled open again. He could tell from the silhouette he was not Teddy. He moved his mouth to speak, but only dry croaks escaped.
The hitman pulled his head up. He slid the blade smoothly into James' neck. Flesh and blood gushed in a quiet squish. His breath escaped in one last sigh—release. His head drooped and never rose again.
"Poor bastard..." Diana uttered. "Target down. It's only you and Teddy, now."
robsinsonstopdog: LAME LAME LAME
LamBros: thats it? so disappointing
wp_antivirus: what a fucking JOKE
admira1: this show is going down the gutter
love4ever912: i dont mind it.
47 spun the camera around.
wp_antivirus: yo wtf man
robinsonstopdog: BRUHHHH
admira1: worst episode ever
love4ever912: its unique and i like it. unfortunately plebes like you wont get anything
Retrieving the bolt cutters, Agent 47 went around the grated floor. For each hinge connecting it to the wall, he cut. After separating the two sides, he felt it tilt down.
Heading to the safe, concrete floor, he continued cutting the hinges until only one bar held the grate up. There was still a tilt thanks to James' body, but it wasn't immediately noticeable.
Agent 47 headed out the hall and into the garage. There, he took a car battery and waited.
Teddy left the Meat Room. 47 waited for the second sound of a door opening.
Returning to the Fun Room, he squinted at James' motionless body. The crimson running down his throat was not there before. "What the fuck... What the fuck!" Teddy was twitching from the piled-up irritations, now. Nobody in this damned show knew what they were doing!
Fatefully, he stepped onto the grate.
His enormity sent it careening down. Teddy tipped on his back, sliding into James' chair to make a pile-up of two. He reached up, latching onto part of the grate as he reoriented himself.
When he looked up, though, he saw the Hunter from before. He had the bolt cutters, and by the time Teddy made the connection, the grate was falling. They splashed into the pool of blood, Teddy sputtering and floundering about in turmoil. Blood dripped into the eye holes, making him tear the bear mask off. His face was speckled with beard and combined with a shaved head.
"You son of a bitch!" he cried, splashing blood up at 47 like an angry child in water. Agent 47 spun around, preferring not to be stained with crimson. The move spun the camera around, dropping it on the concrete where it perfectly angled to capture Teddy. "You killed her! You killed my Sis! I'm going to rip your eyes out and crush them like grapes!"
Agent 47 tossed the car battery in.
It splashed into the blood. Teddy spasmed, his gaze and furious countenance frozen onto the hitman. His hands curled and uncurled. Teddy fell backward, and now two bodies floated in the liquid.
"Teddy—Eddie Thayer—eliminated. All objectives complete," Diana said with a hint of relief. "It's time to find an exit."
love4ever912: finally some good fucking food
robinsonstopdog: NOOOOOOOOOOONONONONOOOOO
LamBros: does this mean hunting season is over...?
robinsonstopdog: I FUCKING HATE THIS
wp_antivirus: how tf did he even kill teddy like that?
robinsonstopdog: I CANT BELIEVE A STUPID PREY KILLED THE HUNTERS THIS ISNT RIGHT
wp_antivirus: for once i agree with robinson
admira1: fucking trash
admira1: im so damn upset
love4ever912: im sure this is the finale of hunting season, but it was a genuinely beautiful finale.
Agent 47 adjusted the tie of his suit. He plugged their keys into the van, and its engine came alive. Opening the garage into a vast dirt road heading out of the forest, he took a steady breath.
The sun was rising.
WHY THE "SURTR LEAKS" WERE GOOD FOR AMERICA
Written by Iris Quinn.
There seems to be an unexplainable number of people online condemning what has been dubbed the "Surtr Leaks." These arguments claim that such actions are putting America in danger and that it's purposely inciting violence. They try to paint Surtr as a terrorist, even though all he has done is tell us the truth.
That is more than what the government has done for us. All he did was point out our nation's hypocrisy, and now he's the villain. But I ask those people this: "Would the government have listened if Surtr did not do this?"
No, they wouldn't have. Like with Trent Umphenour's crime, President Rogers would have ignored us. And if he can't hear our voices, how will our lives ever improve under his administration?
If it wasn't for Surtr, we never would have known how dangerously close America came to being destroyed. Even more embarrassing is the fact it was Russia who returned our nuclear codes. Aurora Nauyak was a CIA agent who went rogue, taking the codes confiscated from Justice Blanc's estate (who we also learned was having an affair with President Rogers) to sell. She worked with Brielle Adler, a criminal smuggler forced to work for the ICA in bringing their resources across the globe.
This is to say that the entire incident can be blamed on the top. The people responsible for protecting us. And are we going to forgive and forget all the crimes our government has committed? The racism and bigotry they enable, letting their own people be slaughtered?
When I look at the riots, I don't see the violence and terrorism these other outlets report. I see people realizing the failure of our government, and taking matters into our own hands. Because we know what we want...
BUD DAVIS' POPULARITY SPIKES TO ITS HIGHEST
Senator Bud Davis has been gunning for the presidential nominee since before the Surtr Leaks. His stance has always been for the people, unafraid to voice what is wrong with the government and the Rogers Administration. His promises to the middle class and vows to equalize the unfair power dynamics in politics have made him highly popular.
In the wake of the Surtr Leaks, Davis' lesser-government campaign has ramped up. More advertisements of him condemning President Rogers and his work are appearing, and voicing similar words to what Surtr spoke during the hack. According to recent polls, it's working.
Bud Davis is now at an unstoppable lead, with voters favoring him over 30% higher than other candidates in the running...
LOCATION OF "STUFFED ANIMAL" VIDEO FOUND IN SHOCKING BLOODBATH
Texas authorities raided a private estate deep in the forest after a body identified as Amelia Thayer washed down a river. This was further compounded by two witnesses, bloody and exhausted, telling their story.
Patrick Erickson and Maryam Parks were kidnapped in the same van along with Patrick's fiancée and three others. According to them, Amelia Thayer—who called herself Jackrabbit—hosted an online live stream called Hunting Season on the dark web. They gathered 20 victims and unleashed them into the nearby woods. Accompanied by other "Hunters," she would hunt down the victims while recording it as a sadistic snuff film.
Upon raiding the estate, police found the nearby grounds littered with bodies of victims—and strangely, all of the "Hunters," trapped in crudely made traps. It is believed some of the victims fought back, even making it to the cottage where an even bloodier scene was found.
The body of Eddie Thayer, Amelia's brother, was found in a room that perfectly matched the "Stuff Animal" video's setting. The grate floor had fallen, and Eddie and a tortured victim were floating in a well of blood. Authorities say Eddie was electrocuted after a car battery fell inside.
Police also recovered several tapes of Hunting Season, which include live chat from unknown viewers. Analysts say the demographics of the viewers ranged from states in the U.S. to distant countries like Venezuela.
Maryam and Patrick say they are extremely lucky to have made it out, but "owe their lives to a bald stranger who helped them escape..."
Fast food places were typically empty at night, and this lesser-known burger joint was no exception. Diana met the tired two-man crew and ordered a salad. As they set to work, she sat at one of the many available booths.
A white van pulled into the parking lot by the time she went to grab her order. When she returned to the table, Agent 47 was at the door.
He went past the cashiers, sitting across from Diana. Unlike that time with Mr. Nu, he didn't bring a weapon to sneak under the table. He knew her well enough, and vice versa. Still, it wasn't ordinary for an agent to meet their handler like this. "You called me here for another reason."
Diana dug into her salad, chewing through the first bite. "After Throrakis, Myung was given access to all ICA personnel's phone logs. I didn't want her to know what I was up to." She rested the fork for a moment. "The chip in your head. It's done something to you, and only you know what."
That explained things; he figured as much, too. "It's..." He rattled his fingers on the table, figuring out how to say it. "It's an Angel. He comes to me in my sleep, sometimes. He came to me in Copenhagen, when I was in the Haunted Mansion. Every time, he tells me the same thing: that I don't need to follow 'the rich and powerful.'"
Diana continued through her salad. She's heard that sentiment be echoed a lot more nowadays. And where that phrase rang... "Sounds familiar."
"Surtr," 47 answered. " I noticed it in the broadcast. The way they talk is identical."
Things lined up in a way Diana did not like.
"He knows who I am. Where I've been. Who you are." Agent 47's brows furrowed. "He is not a real Angel."
Her hands interlocked with each other, and she rested her chin on the bridge they created. Everything was circumstantial, but if Surtr was this Angel, then... Myung. Clera. Clera. Weeks prior, she mentioned finding more contracts in the Middle East; around the time chaos encroached on Egypt.
Then there was the old detective from her youth: Lars Roth.
"Diana?" She met eyes with Agent 47, who noticed how pale she became. "You've realized something."
She gave a tight nod. "I don't know... Pieces are falling in a way as if meant for me to see." The Board wouldn't believe her—understandably, too. But if there was something happening, a crack would show, eventually. Agent 47 probably made similar connections. "Thank you, 47. I'm afraid that all we can do now is wait. You'll hear from me next contract."
The hitman simply nodded.
Diana finished her salad, tossing the container as she left. 47 watched her out the window, getting into her car, and driving off. Once the vehicle was out of sight, he could move.
Agent 47 ordered a burger.
