The dimly lit conference room buzzed with a tense energy, its occupants a mixed bag of military officials, scientists, and hardened survivors. Long shadows stretched across the walls from the flickering lights, casting an eerie glow over the scene. At the center of the room, a massive wooden table served as the battleground for the discussion.
On one side stood Garrett "Ironclaw" Mason, a legendary bounty hunter whose reputation preceded him, known for his no-nonsense attitude and ability to track down any target. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as if sizing up the situation. His scarred face was unreadable, though his eyes reflected years of violence, and the weight of the paper he had just been handed.
Across from him stood the woman who had summoned him to this clandestine meeting. Doctor Leona Graves, a biologist turned survival strategist, known for orchestrating some of the most successful human resistance efforts against the undead plague. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, bore into Garrett with an intensity that rivaled his own.
The air hung heavy between them as Garrett slowly picked up the paper that had been thrown onto the table. His eyes scanned the contents—dossiers, stats, and mission details—before finally settling on one name: Quest Strother.
After a long minute, Garrett slapped the paper down. "So let me get this straight," he growled, his gravelly voice cutting through the room's tension like a blade. "You want me to go after the most dangerous kid on the entire planet? Are you crazy?" He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You know how many people that kid's killed, right? Bounty hunters, soldiers, survivors… hell, even zombies are scared of him. Almost two thousand bodies in his wake. And now you want me to chase him down?"
Leona's face remained expressionless, but her voice was steady, controlled. "We're not asking you to bring him in alive. You have full discretion." She motioned to the paper in front of Garrett. "Quest Strother is more than a teenager. He's an anomaly. The undead don't attack him; they avoid him like the plague. It's as if they recognize something in him… something worse."
Garrett clenched his jaw, clearly unimpressed. "So you're telling me he's dangerous enough that even the dead want nothing to do with him, and you think I'll have better luck?" He shook his head. "This kid… he's like a ghost. No one's seen him and lived to tell the tale."
Leona leaned in. "That's exactly why we need you. Strother isn't just a problem. He's a threat to everything we're trying to rebuild. If we don't stop him now, there won't be any safe zones left. He doesn't just kill zombies, Garrett. He kills us. And the more he does, the stronger he seems to get. Something is feeding off the death he spreads, and if he isn't stopped—"
Garrett cut her off, standing up from his chair. "I don't need a lecture on how dangerous he is. I'm asking what's in it for me."
Leona didn't hesitate. "Ten million in pre-war currency. Gold, supplies—anything you want. Plus, you'll have the full backing of our resources. We need him dead, and you're the best shot we've got."
The bounty hunter paused, his eyes narrowing. Ten million. He could disappear with that kind of money, live out the rest of his days far away from the rotting cities and the undead hordes. Still, something about this felt wrong. "You're asking me to hunt down a kid," he said quietly, though there was no softness in his tone. "Doesn't sit right."
Leona's expression hardened. "That 'kid' has more blood on his hands than half the monsters out there. If you don't take him down, he'll burn this world to the ground. So, what's your decision?"
Garrett's gaze flicked back to the paper. The dossier on Quest Strother was sparse, but what it contained was chilling. A sixteen-year-old who had somehow survived and thrived in the apocalypse, cutting down both human and zombie with no distinction. The dead didn't touch him; they parted like water in his presence. Rumors whispered that even the most ravenous zombies would freeze in their tracks when he appeared, retreating into the shadows as if they feared something deeper than death.
Garrett clenched his fists. He had faced down bandit warlords, mutant beasts, and hordes of the undead, but this—this was different.
Finally, he looked up at Leona, his decision made. "Alright," he said. "I'll take the job."
Leona exhaled, as if she had been holding her breath the whole time. "Good. You leave in two days. We'll provide the intel you need."
Garrett nodded, then turned to leave the room. As he approached the door, Leona spoke again, her voice carrying a weight that hadn't been there before.
"Just remember, Garrett—this isn't like your other jobs. Quest Strother isn't just a killer. He's a force of nature. If you go after him, you need to be ready for anything."
Garrett paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "I've stared down death before, Doc. I think I can handle a kid."
As he left the conference room, the weight of the mission began to settle in his bones. Quest Strother, the most dangerous teenager on the planet, was out there somewhere—untouchable, unstoppable, and now his next target.
And for the first time in a long time, Garrett Mason wasn't sure if he'd come back from this one.