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" Good blood always
shows itself. "
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"Remember the plan. We take care of this and then D.C." the mousy haired young man said to his peers through an earpiece as the group approached the CIA building in the heart of Seattle. His hair hung over his eyes in a 70s style haircut, and he brushed it out of the way.
The few people on the street backed out of the way as the group approached, terrified by the determined looks on their faces. These people were not to be messed with.
The young man stopped in front of the building, turning to face his group. He scratched at the bandages covering his body, from the still healing stab wounds. "We are Hunters," he shouted. "It's time for the world to know who we are and what we're being forced to do! But most importantly, it's time for everyone to know that we will NOT stand for it!"
The crowd cheered, whooped and hollered. The crowd full of thousands of Hunters. The young man smiled at all of them; he felt like a celebrity. He kept a humbled composure.
"Some of us made mistakes. Some of us fell for the mission. I did, and I got these because of it!" he shouted, showing off his bloody bandages on his neck, caked with dried, brown crust. "But in the end, we get set straight and our morals ring true. In the end, we do what's right, and we DON'T kill innocent people!"
Once again, the crowd cheered.
The man swallowed hard. "Mitchell is the same age as me. If he can stand up against the Hunter Mission then I, Wesley, and all of you can too! Let him be a reminder to all of us to do what's right, even if it's not easy."
Thr crowd applauded wildly, and Wesley rose his arms.
"Today, we bring justice to the innocent!"
The crowd shouted, sounding like an army screaming a war cry. The group, thousands of Hunters, stormed the CIA building.
Doors were kicked from hinges. Glass shattered onto the cracked pavement. Agents screamed and pulled their guns. Shots were fired, bodies fell to the floor in an array of blood and bullets.
The group persisted. Hunters placed the small metal devices under desks, in bookshelves, in drawers, on walls, even into toilets.
Bombs.
And then they ran like hell.
Bullets soared through the air as the Hunters bolted out of the building, some getting a mere two feet, others escaping with ease.
Wesley gripped the detonator tightly in his palm as he waited outside, adrenaline surging through his veins. He was of course waiting for the last few surviving Hunters to run past him and into safety. When the steady stream of Hunters ceased to come running, Wesley held the detonator up. He remembered his instructions. It was a cheap detonator, and needed a very close range to work.
Whoever set it off would die.
"This is for the Hunted!" Wesley screamed, chilling anyone who could hear him straight to the bone.
He pressed the button on the detonator, and the flames swallowed him in seconds.
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Song: In My Blood by Shawn Mendes
