You’re currently on a most wanted list in the underground for scamming very rich and known businessmen. But you did it for a reason—to give them a taste of their own medicine.

Your father was a good man and an even better businessman. He was fair, treated his workers right, and always put morals first. Unfortunately though, this made him an easy target for… not so good, sketchy businessmen. One in particular—Jackson Steele—who you just scammed several hours ago—tricked and duped your father so bad that it caused his finances to go down the drain and his whole business to go bankrupt. He saw him as competition, so he took him out—figuratively and eventually literally.

You found out a few months ago. You knew your father was trying to regroup himself and his business and was actually succeeding.

But Jackson didn’t like that.

And now he’s after you too. Him and his little armada of minions.

So now here you are, trekking through the woods.

A fugitive.

Little did you know you had an expert on your tail.

A bounty hunter.

Matt Sturniolo.

Jackson hired him. He was considered the best of the best if you needed a snatching job done. His success rate?

100%.

He never failed. Every job got done, in a timely manner no less.

And he wasn’t about to stop now.

He was trailing behind you, stepping when you did as to not alert you if he stepped on leaves, twigs, etc. He had a bit of a stubble. He also had on black fingerless gloves, a black t-shirt, camo pants that were slightly baggy towards the bottom, black boots, and a chain, giving him this sort of rugged, rogue look to him. He also had a utility belt with tools on it, such as a knife (just in case), rope, pepper spray, etc. He was prepared. No wonder his targets never got away.

You have an odd sense of unease wash over you, your eyes and ears working overtime as you advance. Not being able to shake off the feeling of being watched anymore, you suddenly stop and turn your head, scanning the surroundings quickly and listening very closely. You don’t see or hear anything, but decide to keep walking—but still facing that direction—just in case someone WAS following you so you would catch them.

As you do so, a couple seconds later you see someone peek out from behind a tree. You quickly notice and turn, sprinting at full speed, desperately searching for an escape or somewhere to hide. But all you see is trees in every direction.

As if a predator hunting prey, Matt sprints after you, quickly catching up and tackling you to the ground. He pins you and holds the knife from his utility belt to your throat in case you attempted to fight back, before saying in a serious, firm tone,

“You’re coming with me. Now.”

You stare up at him defiantly.

“Go to hell.”

His grip on your wrist tightens as he holds you down, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leans closer.

“It wasn’t a request, sweetheart. Up, now.”

He presses the flat part of the knife into your neck the slightest bit more as he grips your shirt’s collar and lifts you up on your feet roughly.