anguispunitur
A wee mutter escaped Curtis’ breath as he tried over and over again to flick the steel against the flint of his lighter, to light his cigarette. Damned thing was most likely out of fluid. But still, he just bloody hoped that he could get a single light. Just one. Enough for at least one god damned puff. Sure, it’d ruin his lungs. But the bounty hunter was more than likely to die from a bullet to the head than cancer at this rate.
Giving up on his attempt at smoking, Curtis took his unlit cigarette from between his lips, and looked out through the landscape. Pakistan. Place was going to shit. But all that meant was that there where more than enough bounties to real in. Already got a few under his belt. Money for bread, money for rent, money for hookers and money for smokes. What more could he want?
Well maybe some actual bloody company as opposed to a Pakistan Whore to warm his bed.
Still, enough self reflecting. Taking out the documents from his leather coat’s pocket, the bounty hunter looked over the text... Name, unknown. But had a few aliases. Snake. Big Boss. V. A god damn demon on the battlefield. A hefty price on his head for accounts of murder, kidnapping, thieving. Seemed like a big deal. And Curtis liked them big.
As he focused his sights over the dusty, hot landscape, he couldn’t help but focus on a man upon a horse. Galloping through the landscape. At first glance? He passed it off. That was until he saw that red metallic arm.
Aye, that was his mark.
With a smirk, Curtis yanked the front of his mask down, and took a few steps forward. A hand reached behind him, drawing one of the various knives at his belt. Tossing it up, catching it by the blade, Curtis pulled his arm back, and threw it with all his might, all his precision, towards the horse.
He was not aiming to hit it, of course. Hit the space in front of it. Spook the poor thing. Then properly introduce himself as the man who’d deliver Snake’s head on a silver platter.