The Hunt

Chapter 7 - Stories

"Finally," Someone grumbled. More shuffling. "I was worried I killed you." I huffed to that, finally lifting my head to see him.

He was sitting on a backwards chair, now with his arms propped over the top of it and a bit of a slouched posture. His head was tilted at me and I couldn't see his face.

"I'm serious, Timber." He responded to my body language from his stupid remark. "Liff heh ill belfe vou!" I snapped from under the gag, feeling even angrier when he only laughed, standing up out of the chair.

I was breathing heavily and panting into the gag from trying to break out of the cuffs I didn't even realize I had around my wrists.

Striker slowly walked around the chair to come meet me face to face, bending over and placing his hands on his knees, sighing again. "Your trash talk is so much cuter when I can't understand it."

I whined in annoyance, narrowing my eyes at him and baring my teeth against the gag. He roughly propped my chin up, making me groan, and ripped the gag out of my mouth.

Nausea waved for a second, feeling drops of my own spit land on my clothes. "What do you want."

Striker only tilted his head, folding the gags cloth back up and wiping his fingers, tossing it aside like it was worth nothing (which was true). "I want a lot of things, Timber," He began to slowly pace around my chair, sliding his now gloved hand on the top of the chair, shivering my spine as he traced lines in my hair.

"Why won't you work with me?" His tone changed to persuade me. All sorts of things were starting to flow their way back to me, from unknown times of my life and I was struggling.

My tongue feels like glue, stuck in my mouth and unable to break free no matter how hard I tried to sever the bond between them. My breath is running short.

He made his way back around to the front of my chair, keeping eye contact. "You know the way of life down there so well — the streets are like your replacement family," He says. "And you know the Law very well and what we Officers do and why we do them. I have no doubt you could be the next Captain."

His eyes glowed, looking somewhere else for only a second — presumably a camera — until landing back on me.

"I wouldn't betray my family as you put it. I'm loyal." I say with full confidence. Who are you? This isn't the Striker I normally talk to or ever will talk to.

"Loyalty only goes so far," He stammered, looking around the room. "Like the roots of a tree." My eyes darkened when he held up a shiny red apple.

"Trees, like to spread far across their landscape, living for centuries on end and sharing all that they've learned with the world." He was grinning, by the way his eyes squinted under the mask.

"What's your point, Striker? What does this have to do with anything?" I turned myself in, in hopes of prying information out of him and trying to spot weak points that we could use to our advantage. And... for another reason.

"I know why you're here, Timber," My heart thudded to a loud stop in my chest. I've never felt my face so tense in emotion, but I fought hard to stay neutral. "I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work."

"And why am I here, hotshot?" I tilted my head at him. I was undeniably glancing at his features, his oh so perfect features. Features I couldn't admit aloud that were breathtaking to the eye.