Fan Fiction ❯ Can't think of ANY stupid title ❯ The hunted ( Chapter 1 )

Hello. I am not a BSer. I hate BS. If you have ANY recommendations, PLEASE for the love of big Ed, send them to me. I don't care if it's something stupid. This is my FIRST fic that I've posted online, so don't be TOO rough, though. I enjoy jokes and explosives. Yes, explosives. Ever hear about that explosion up in New Jersey? That was me visiting my cosioun at school during chemistry. Needless to say, I found a rather large block of pure sodium and sprayed it with water. Needless to say, there was a rather large explosion, starting my life. So far, I've created two non-lethal flash grenades. I LOVE anime, espescially Inuyasha, Ranma 1/2, and Trigun. I also enjoy Yu Yu hakusho, and a few other semi-famous ones, like Big O (once you understand the concept, it's fun.) and Cowboy Bebop. SD gundam just annoys me. If anyone has writing experience and would like to submit a chapter or idea, I, unlike many other authors, will actually take it into consideration for adding it on, or maybe the whole chappie!

ON WITH THE FIC THEN, EH?

Why? Why were they chasing me? And why did every time I tried to do something good it turned out bad? And more immediately, what was that green/blue energy? Could I use it again? I'd have to. But how did I do it? Could I do it again? There would be no other choice if the chase wouldn't be called off soon.

My father's weapons had been confiscated before I could get to the guard station. My drunken mother had probably either gotten suspicious, or she had told them everything for a little money. Probably the latter, but there was no way to tell.

The people that were chasing me wore a simple green outfit. Not that I couldn't spot military trained people from a mile away. I didn't know how. It was as if I had someone else's memories. Either way, I still had to keep moving. Even if I couldn't see them now didn't mean that I could take my time.

I continued my current mad dash through the forest. It took time to track someone. And there was no clear limit in sight for me to settle in. But where would I go? It depended what I was wanted for. Murder? Mexico. Drugs? Keep running North. Smuggling? Keep going North. But I hadn't done anything. So should I be running at all? I had nothing to hide, right? So they'd have to let me go. I'd find out soon, though, and see if I could do it without getting caught.

The opportunity came rather soon. Less than a minute after I exited the woods I ran into the edge of town. As I sprinted down the highway, I noticed something in the distance. Oh…great…a roadblock. They were going all out on this. I felt a bit of pride, despite the fact I didn't earn it. That meant that I couldn't turn myself in without turning it into some circus.

I turned on my heel, walking by a radio shack. The televisions were on the screens. I kept running. I broke through the crowd, out of sight before anyone could turn to get a look at me. I dodged through traffic.

I figured that if I kept heading out of town and kept going North, I would be fine. I had plenty of contacts in the North, mainly newspapermen who owed me a lot of money. Many journalists' shocking revealing stories that are told came from me. I would also play both sides of the coin, selling both sides a little information. I was about twenty miles from the nearest safe house, it happened.

A shout and a scream were the only warnings that I had. Tires squealed, and about three cars in a parade formation sped down the streets. I turned up my collar. Mentally, I prayed to God that they wouldn't see me. They did a sharp turn, cars all stopping. I waited. The crowd stepped back. They wanted a mass arrest. But I wouldn't run. I was fed up with that. I wanted answers. Now.

I dropped into a combat position. The first cop pulled a large bludgeon from his belt, his two friends already out from their belts. The first two made small, taunting jabs with them. The leader stepped forward though, and they halted. He advanced confidently. I waited for him to get into range.

He swung down in a swift but powerful downward stroke. I leapt back, letting him get off balance. I stepped in and pushed him further, and raised my knee into his solar plexus. He doubled over. I snatched his gun and ran backwards. The crowd parted for me, but they stayed open for the cops too. I kept sprinting down the lane. But they were gaining fast.

Another car came up. I vaulted a fence, entering a park. Another car waited on the other side, having just arrived. But that didn't stop me. I kept the gun holstered. I leapt off the fence onto the roof of the car. I kept running, ignoring the obvious rule of never turning your back on an armed opponent.

Bullets whizzed over my head. But I continued to run. But my strength was giving quickly. It seemed as if I had lost them. Whoever these guys are, they're desperate. I slowed to a jog, panting. I checked my radar.

WAIT! I realized something. The radar was giving away my position! I chucked it into the stream, and began running east. I took a left, and started approximately north. I felt like a hunted animal. I checked my `cell phone'. It had four tranqs left. I kept running, popping out of the woods.

This area was no better. I resumed my previous pace. I ripped my face off a telephone pole. I began to read it. Wanted. But there was no information on how they wanted my condition, or why. I tore it up and kept moving. I started down Driden Lane, reading the address numbers. 5532, 5534, 5536…Here we go. 5538. I knocked on the door. A man who was about an inch shorter than I was greeted me.

"Is this the Wankan residence?"

"Speaking."

"Hexmaster X wants a word." I said breathlessly.

His eyes widened. "Is it about that money I owe him? I promise, just a little more. I don't know how to get it to him!"

"Maybe we should take this inside." I said.

"Okay, but no trickery!"

"On my honor." I said.

"What's your name, sir?"

"I don't give it freely. But you can call me by what you know me. Hexmaster X."

"Ah…in person. I'm glad to see that you don't just hire a lackey. About that money, it's up-" He paused at my raised hand.

"This isn't about money. In case you haven't noticed, my face is wanted on every television screen for some unknown reason. I need a place to hide. I have four big stories for you, and possibly five."

He bit his lower lip. "And the money?"

"Consider it already paid to me." I said, grinning.

"Good. The walls might not have ears, but someone else may. Let's take this to the basement."

"No. The further up the better. Basements have more cracks for ears." I said.

"Very well. But it isn't homely."

"I never was one for neatness." I said.

"About that story…"

"The possible one? There's a militant group on my ass. I don't know why, or even what it's about, but for some reason, they want me bad. They are military trained, professionally so. I'd say it was something I did to piss them off. Maybe found some data. Whatever group they call themselves, they`re good. Their soldiers came at me with stun batons, bludgeons, uniform cars in police parade formation, professional driving, good shots, great coordination to find where I'd pop out, codes to a radar, I.D. faking ability, used to steal my weapons, and enough hidden authority to pull down major networks and printing companies to plaster my face on their screens."

"Maybe there's a reason they're on to you." He said.

"Like I'm sick or something?" I asked.

"Just a suggestion. Why else would they be so desperate to capture you?"

"Why were the feds so desperate to capture that man?"