Shadow Slave: The Four Horseman of Deviants

Chapter 12: On the Hunt (2)

Andrew's feet barely touched the ground as he darted through the twisting alleyways, his body moved like fluid as he vaulted over crates, scaling the walls with practiced ease. His hands gripped the edges of balconies, swinging him upward, boots scraping against the brick as he climbed higher, always moving, always one step ahead. Below, the heavy thud of footsteps followed relentlessly—Brawn Knuckles, roaring and crashing through debris like a freight train gone off its rails.

Andrew's breath came in with a sharp bursts, his mind racing just as fast as his body. He launched himself across rooftops, the afternoon sun blazing hot against his back, beads of sweat trickling down his neck. He cursed under his breath, the thought flitting through his mind.

'Fuck! How did I end up being chased by this idiot?'

A quick glance down revealed his pursuer still chasing from below, face twisted in fury, his broad figure smeared with dirt and remnants of the chaos he bulldozed through. "Get down here, you impudent brat!" Brawn Knuckles bellowed, his voice booming over the narrow street.

Andrew panicked, his body slightly trembled but still showed no fear in regard. "No chance, dawg! You'll kill me for sure!" he hollered, barely pausing before he leapt to the next rooftop.

A growl echoed up from below, followed by the clatter of whatever loose object Brawn Knuckles could find to hurl at him, each projectile missing by inches. The man's rage was palpable, and Andrew? He couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh, even as he kept running.

"You fucking cocky brat, I should have just killed you that night!"

Andrew's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a hammer of adrenaline.

"Holy shit!"

His eyes flicked down to the street below, watching Brawn Knuckles barrel through the alley like a wrecking ball. The man's fists smashed into anything in his way—trash cans, shop signs, even the odd market stall, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Angry shouts from the vendors rang out, but Brawn Knuckles didn't slow down.

'This guy's serious,' Andrew thought, his pulse quickening. 'No matter what I say, he's not gonna stop attacking me. Unc is going to tear me apart.'

"Get the fuck down here!" Brawn Knuckles roared, his voice echoing between the buildings, sending shivers up Andrew's spine. More splintering wood and crashing metal followed as the behemoth stormed onward, each step heavier, more furious than the last.

Andrew kept moving, the chaos below only fueling his urgency.

….

A gleaming figure moved through the bustling street, armor catching the afternoon light with an effortless grace. The crowd parted slightly as he passed, unaware of the dignified presence among them. Suddenly, a distant boom echoed from the other side of town—sharp and violent. His gaze snapped in that direction, reading the danger before it escalated further.

Without a moment's pause, the armored figure disappeared in a blur of motion, slipping between pedestrians and obstacles with fluid precision. His speed defied sight; to those nearby, it was nothing more than a faint gust of wind, a momentary chill that swept past before vanishing.

Not a head turned as he cleared the space, gliding toward the chaos as though untouched by the world around him.

Before him, the chaos unfolded—a massive figure rampaging through the street, leaving destruction in his wake. The armored figure landed silently behind Brawn Knuckles, his movement as swift as it was precise.

In one fluid motion, he struck, the impact sharp and decisive, sending the brute crumpling to the ground.

From the armored man's hand, a chain appeared as if summoned from thin air, quickly wrapped around Brawn Knuckles' unconscious form, binding him with effortless precision.

His gaze shifted upward, locking onto the figure darting across the rooftops, Andrew, moving in a fast phase.

With a silent leap, the armored man ascended, landing softly on the roof. He glided toward Andrew, each step as light as air, soundless against the tiles.

But Andrew's instincts flared. Someone was behind him. His muscles tensed, his mind racing—no time to look back. A single glance was going to be the end of him.

He dove off the roof without hesitation, slipping into the market below, his body disappearing into the sea of people. His heart pounded as he moved, weaving through the crowd until he reached a narrow, hidden alley, breath ragged, lungs burning. He was Safe, for now.

Andrew muttered under his breath, leaning against the alley wall, "Finally got away from him."

"Got away from who?"

Andrew's head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. Standing before him, the armored figure loomed—the same one who'd been chasing him. His pulse quickened.

"W-who are you? What happened to Brawn Knuckles?" Andrew stammered, eyes darting for an escape. His back pressed against the cold brick of a dead-end, trapping him.

The knight's voice was calm, but firm. "Surrender yourself. You have nowhere left to run." His armored figure stood tall, unmoving. "I am Awakened Stallone, a knight in charge of patrolling the west coast of Pitoa."

Andrew cursed under his breath, frustration welling up—he'd been in tight spots like this before. It was back in the days when he was still a delinquent, being ignorant of the norms and moral of society.

His hands shot up in mock defeat, his voice dripping with reluctance. "Alright, I surrender."

He knew better than to start a fight. The knight's power radiated off him, and Andrew could feel it. One wrong move, and this would be over before he could blink.

….

The chandelier flickered above, casting faint shadows across the cell, its struggling flames barely holding back the surrounding darkness. The damp air clung to the concrete walls, stained with patches of dirt and moss that crept out of the cracks. Despite the slick decay, the metal bars of the cell gleamed unnervingly new, as though they had been replaced again and again. Scars of past escape attempts were nowhere to be found, only the silence left by those who had tried—and failed.

Andrew sat hunched on the cold, wet floor, his pants soaking up the moisture as he clenched his fists. His hand formed into a fist as it hit the ground with a dull thud. His breath hissed through his teeth. 'ain't no way I got arrested again.'

From the dim-lit cell across from him, a deep voice broke the silence. "Don't bother, boy. We're locked in until the Awakened decides otherwise." Brawn Knuckles leaned back against the wall, his massive arms bound by chains, barely rattling as he spoke.

Andrew leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Sounds like you've been in and out of jail a lot."

Brawn Knuckles chuckled, his voice low. "More than a few times. But it's always the same—pay for the damage, and they let me walk."

Andrew frowned. "So, you wreck places, pay up, and just get off like that?"

"Pretty much. Long as you've got the money, they don't care much."

Andrew shook his head, muttering, "That's crazy. Kinda reminds me of the stuff I used to get into."

Brawn Knuckles raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

Andrew shot him a glance. "None of your business, man. Shouldn't you still be mad at me for wrecking your place?"

Brawn shrugged, his chains clinking lightly. "Not anymore. Figured out you weren't the one who did it."

Andrew's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh yeah? And what made you so sure?"

Brawn Knuckles sighed, his tone softening. "Look, I'll admit it. I was wrong. Sorry for chasing you down like that. People tend to pull that kind of thing on me."

Andrew narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. "Alright, but how exactly did you figure I wasn't the one who did it? What makes you so sure I didn't rob you?"

Brawn Knuckles paused, his gaze steady. "Thought about last night. You were playin' at the tavern, being observant and mysterious. It hit me—you weren't after loot. You were after information."

Andrew scoffed, shaking his head. "That's a stretch, man. How'd you even come to that conclusion?" He paused, realizing he could make Brawn Knuckles mad again. "You know what, forget it."

Brawn Knuckles smirked. "Back in my adventurin' days, I did the same thing. Get close, ask the right questions, dig up what I needed on a mark."

Andrew let out a dry laugh. "Man, you're out of your mind."

"Maybe so," Brawn replied, leaning in with a grin. "But I know what I'm talkin' about. So, who's your target?"

Andrew raised his hands, feigning innocence. "I was just tryna make some money, legit."

Brawn's brow furrowed. "What's legit?"

Andrew sighed. "You know, something that doesn't involve stealing."

Brawn barked out a laugh. "So you kill for coin instead? That's worse than nickin' a few trinkets, lad." His grin spread wider, eyes gleaming. "But now I gotta ask—what's a killer doin' pourin' drinks?"

Andrew's patience wore thin. He leaned forward, tension in his voice. "Alright, fine. Let's say I am what you think I am. Then what? It's not your problem."

Brawn gave a slow nod, a smirk curling his lips. "True. Not my business at all. But maybe I've got something that could interest you. I know a lot about the folks around here."

Andrew's jaw tightened. "I don't need your help, thanks."

Brawn's eyes gleamed, sensing an opening. "Gallighar Demitra, ring a bell? Every bounty hunter worth their salt wants his head. Maybe you're one of 'em. Or perhaps Clyde Temple, that swan-necked devil? Big price on him too. Or what about David Klaus, crawlin' around in the sewage? Killed plenty of folks—worth a fortune if you can get him."

Andrew felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something was off. This felt too easy, like a trap waiting to spring. But he had to play it cool, get more info. He narrowed his eyes. "Why you givin' all this up so quick? What's your game?"

Brawn leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "Listen, we could make this work. You're quick and quiet. I've got strength and connections. We team up, find out who trashed my place, and you get your shot at whoever you're after. How's that sound?"

Andrew's eyes flicked to the side, weighing the offer. He didn't trust Brawn, not completely. But he needed a way out, and fast. After a long pause, he sighed. "Alright. You've got a deal."

Brawn grinned, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "So, a bounty hunter after all."

Andrew nodded, his voice steady. "Yeah. I'm a bounty hunter. They call me 'Wind of the West.'"

Brawn raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Wind of the West? That's ridiculous. I think I'll pass on callin' you that."