A Hunter's Blood: The Crimson Contracts

He couldn’t find her. The best trained Hunter ever born. The deity that other Hunters pray to be just a fraction of couldn’t locate his target. He investigated every inhabitable area. Every life supported location. He found nothing. He had an advantage also. A bio-rhythm tracker. It could home in, and track any bio-rhythm inputted. Simply put, if you’re sentient, it will find you.

Maybe she’s dead, Drakx thought as he sat by himself in the bar. That night was another washout. After almost two months of nothing, he was exasperated. His ego was mired in uncertainty, and confusion. He’d never hunted this long without even a blip on the radar.

Who was this woman? Yes, a woman, a damned woman! He never hunted a woman before. He didn’t Erad women, but he didn’t have to worry about that either. This was a Non-Erad contract. Another thing he never thought he’d do. The Great Hunter was finally humbled for once in his life.

Drakx nursed his drink as he studied the file chip. It showed nothing to help. Just name, species, crime, and reward. The word Non-Erad poked at him like a demented kid tearing off a frog’s legs for fun.

Her name was Sensus. No surname, just Sensus. None of the DNAccidents had surnames. That was her species. An organically designed, apogee pinnacled, humanoid.

“Incredibitch,” Drakx whispered under his breath.

“Excuse me Sir?” the bar tender asked with an eagerness to assist.

Drakx snapped out of his studying trance, and saw the bartender’s tip earning smile.

“Huh? What? OH...uh, Never mind Gareth. I was talking to myself.”

“Hey, not a problem, Sir. If you need to be re-filled, you just let me know!” Gareth recited with that plastic smile glimmering.

The crime was very bold for this day and age. Only the psychotic dared attempt it. Murder was dangerous. The sentence was worse than death, some people have said. Murderers went through a soul burning process called Electro-Life-force Cancellation and Retro Re balancing. An E.L.C.A.R.R. judgment was the personification of an ‘eye for an eye’.

Once a suspect was convicted of murder, they would be immediately strapped in a dark, black metal machine. Hypno-electrodes were placed on the convict’s cranial cavity. The machine would then, mentally, find the memory of the exact time of the murder. If the convict committed the murder, the machine would mentally flip essences of the murderer, and victim. In the murderer’s mind, with the positions flipped in memory, they would remember themselves as the victim. Therefore remembering their own death. The mind cannot tell the difference between the actual death, and retro rebalancing, so the criminal’s mind dies. The victims registered Essence, and memory DNA chip is implanted in the empty body. The transfer is seamless for the victim. Some say worse than Hell for the criminal.

The Legal System had become a monster in the business world because of E.L.C.A.R.R. The process could only be done once, and there wasn’t a shortage of serial killers.

They held Victim Reclamation Auctions on V-bid daily. If a killer committed mass murder, and one of the victims was a loved one, they bid to get them back. Some of the bidders were very wealthy. The legal system was paid well.

Victim reconstruction surgeons were paid well also. Murder was the business, and business was, despite the penalty, good.

He could care less about the reward. Drakx had enough money to be comfortable. He was thinking of his reputation. Thinking about the love for his job. If he was terminated, and blacklisted, he would be truly lost. His reward for this contract was keeping his record, and his job.

He was sitting in a bar called The Ambient Rip. It was a new age hang out for the more sophisticated crowd. You could sit, and enjoy an ethereal light and musical experience. It was a legal way to separate your mind from reality, and relax. It was darkened with aqua bluish interior. The pitch of silky electronic waves blanketed the patrons in comforting warmth. People went there to release themselves from the harsh, callous monotony of the day.

Drakx thought he could de-stress there. He wanted to open his mind for a solution to this conundrum. It wasn’t working. He was becoming tenser because he couldn’t figure out where she was. His frustration was getting worse at the Rip. Nothing was working for him.

Just as he made the decision to leave, and call the night, the moment that changed the course of his very existence happened.

“Is this seat free Mister Slazakohn?”

Drakx looked across the table he was sitting at to see an amazingly, elegant woman standing in front of him. It was Sensus. Her olive complected skin was flawless. She had laser straight, black hair, down to her waist, and piercing lavender eyes; perfect.

Drakx’ mind kicked into overdrive. She was right there, but why? How the hell did she know his name? Should he App her right now? Damn, she was beautiful. Why didn’t the damned tracker go off? Could he trust his control of this surprising situation?

It took him two seconds to realize that he had no control, and to proceed, with caution until he was the aggressor.

“It’s free, please sit,” he answered.

“Thank you,” she said with a light, care free look in her eyes. “You’re not as scary as they say,” She slowly melted in the seat.

Drakx became nervously tense. He had never been in this situation before. He had to maintain a calm falsetto.

“I’m an empath Mister Slazakohn. I can feel your unsettling caution. You don’t have to fake a ‘coolness’ with me,” she said knowingly. “Your confusion is amusing, but never the less, you have questions.”

Who was this flippant bitch? Too bad attitude wasn’t on the report. Drakx kept thinking, No control! No fucking control! I have to gain the upper hand. No choice. Just do it.

“Yes, I have a question,” he began. “What makes you think I just won’t get up, and App your ass right now?”

She smiled, “Oh, I know you won’t Mister Slazakohn.”

“Why not, fugitive?” he asked her, not saying her name on purpose.

“It’s simple,” she began. “You have no control here, and control is what you need.”

Damn.

Drakx was at a loss for words. He couldn’t take over with her driving and him in the trunk.

“No more questions? Good. Now we can get on with this,” Sensus spoke up while Drakx was robbed of words. “You are the great ‘Hunter’ sent to apprehend me. You’ve never lost a contract, and don’t plan on doing so. The problem is that you can’t find your target.”

Drakx broke in with, “You are sitting in front of me, fugitive. You’re found.”

“Someone was found, Mister Slazakohn,” she retorted, “That is apparent, but make no mistake. It is I that has definitely found you.”

“What difference does it make?” he asked impatiently. “Your appearance is semantic at best. The bottom line is that you are ‘definitely’ in my sights.”

“The difference is control Mister Slazakohn. You have none. Your tracker doesn’t work. Your experience is impotent, and I am not in your sights,” she confidently expressed.

Before he said anything to contest her, she continued. “Now since you should be intelligent enough to know that you would have never found me, I have a proposition for you.”

“If you know me so well, you should be intelligent enough to know that I never negotiate with fugitives.”

“Oh, I think that you need to make this choice before you have none,” she said. “Walk away from this contract. Tell them the truth. You couldn’t find me. Don’t hunt me, and you will never hear from me again.”

“What’s this choice you’re talking about? Your alternative,” he suggested mockingly.

“You killed all of my brothers,” she finally became serious. Burning him with those lavender eyes. “I should kill you where you sit. That is your voracious substance. My first suggestion was your choice.”

“Alright, I ’m tired of this,” Drakx spoke in a tone of authority. “Sensus, you have been apprehended. Slowly turn around, and extend your hands towards me.”

Sensus looked at him in surprise for a second, and then cracked a smile.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” she asked in disbelief. “You’re dimmer than I thought. This is truly your decision?”

“Turn around, and extend your hands towards me.” Drakx pulled out his wrist binders, and tapped them on the table to accent his request.

Sensus hissed at him. “Fine, Hunter, you choose death. Like I said earlier ... You never had me in your sights!”

Suddenly, she became transparent. Fading into an eerily familiar electrical finality.

“A tangi-hologram!” he exclaimed to himself as he bolted towards the entrance. Knowing that she had to be in very close proximity to operate a hologram strong enough to react with the environment, she was very near.

He exploded out of the bar onto the busy street. The sidewalk was crawling with species of all kinds. Each of them in their own little world, trying to get to their own little place. The repetitious normalcy for everyone else was anarchic chaos to a Hunter looking for a target.

She was gone. Not a trace. He began to feel the frustrated desperation creep in. He had her, and then he lost her.

“Damn!” he yelled at everyone, and no one. Everyone kept moving. No one cared.