He's been gunnin' down the fight
For Huntbastian Humpday prompt: how they met.
A/N: Sorry and Iunno. I just wanted some action. yeah enjoy!
Hunter quickly ducks down behind the car as the flash of bright white sizzles and thick smoke plumes from the now smoldering car. Taking cover he runs to another to shield himself as he sets his aim, gun at the ready. He sees the target; a shadowy figure rising from the smog. Discarding his standard issue gun on the ground, he pulls free the twin sais from their confines on his back.
Agent Clarington of Delta squad, sector 7 is known for his calm, collected demeanor and his unquestionable need to follow commands. But this is not a mission, this is an act of revenge. Hunter had lost more than a fellow soldier, he lost a friend, a brother. And that loss fuels a deep need to decimate any all that stand in his way.
"Did you like the present I left for you, Clarington?" The figure says, the gas masking preventing Hunter from seeing the smirk on his face. But the Special Agent didn't need to see it, to know it was there.
"Don't bother with chit-chat, I'm here for one thing, and one thing only", Hunter says through gritted teeth, grounding himself in preparation for the brutal fight that will ensue.
"Straight to business? I can live with that."
And the two clash together, sias and hard armor collide, sending sparks flying. the two pary blows, a sneak kick, and blows to the head. There is no way to tell where one ends and the other begins, the fury of their strikes, the raw strength and speed, it makes the blood in his veins throb with purpose. Each cut that mars his skin, the bruises that bloom and every mouthful of blood that he spits out, all spur him on. Remind him of the pain in his heart, remind him of what he is fighting for.
They've been at it for nearly an hour exchanging hits in close quarters and the injuries are taking their toll. It's time to end this for once and for all. And if he dies now, well, he will die will take this mother fucker with him, he promises.
With the last vestiges of his strength he makes a few more blows before taking a smaller blade from an inner pocket and sliding it through his opponents armor plates, sinking it deep into the soft tissue of the abdomen as a distraction. He brings his knee up hitting the same area, pushing the blade in further, and with a hard fist the face, and another and another, his opponent is down.
He takes great pleasure in severing the neck of the other. He wouldn't deny it. Hunter surveys the once street market place, now turned into a battle ground of vengeance. Scorch marks, upended cars, rubble from the patch holes in the side of buildings and bodies of innocent bystanders who didn't move out of the way fast enough. This is gonna be a headache of paperwork to explain.
"Do you have any idea what a foolish thing you did today!?" Squad leader Jones exclaims, a small drop of spit flying from his mouth as he continues his rant. "The damage costs, the media cover up-Are you even listening to me?!"
"Nick was a brother to me sir, my partner, and if his murder is not something worth fighting for then, what is?" Hunter says stone faced as he turns to leave.
Hunter slides the door open, only to nearly bump into another figure; standing at 6 foot 2 with chocolate brown hair and devilish green eyes and armed with a single pistol in his belt. The other male is hardly a threat. He makes to pass the other, when the world tilts and he finds himself on his back, a knife at his throat.
Retracting his initial assessment-a definite threat. The blade is removed and replaced with a hand and a superior smirk.
"Sebastian Smythe," his assailant introduces himself, "Close combat specialist, coffee enthusiast and your new partner"
