Prey and Predator II

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Every stare previously directed at our prey was now aimed at us. The bitter faces of enmity surrounded my sense, villainizing me—a boy who merely wanted to muffle his hunger.

So tell me, why am I the bad guy? I'm just taking back a trivial portion of what the rich had indirectly stolen from us through the corrupt system. It's not a wonder I felt no guilt from attempted thievery.

Without delay, I shoved Snakey down my shirt as my mind entered flight mode. Her head still peeked out of the torn gaps while I sped toward the hidden alleyway. Upon hitting the wall, I drove my palms into it, sharply turning right and swinging my arms to regain balance.

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed four, maybe five, grown adults mashing through the narrow alley a few seconds behind.

"Shit! They're catching up, Snakey."

Spotting the water from yesterday's rainfall, I took advantage by sliding on the frictionless ground. Then, noticing the diagonal clothesline, I jumped, reaching for the T-shirts hanging furthest down. I managed to snatch one with each hand and flung them backward. As expected, when they ran in compact spaces, impairing the movement of the front row slowed the entire group.

I took the opportunity to jolt past the obstacles, but I could still hear their heavy footsteps. I was running out of ideas.

Then, I felt a tug on my shirt. I looked down and saw Snakey had wrapped himself around my arm. She was pointing her head towards a small opening in the wall, overgrown in moss and commonly used by animals.

"You want us to go in there?" I asked hesitantly.

Snakey nodded her head, slithering off my arm toward the hole. I took a deep breath and followed her into the darkness.

We crawled through the small opening, and I could feel the cool air on my face. The rusty bricks clinging to my clothes almost roused my inner claustrophobia. Sure, I was relieved to be out of the alleyway, but still worried about the people chasing us. After all, I had no idea where we were or where we were going.

Snakey seemed to know exactly where she was going, though. She slithered ahead of me, leading the way. I followed her, trying to keep up with her quick movements and paying all my attention to her pathing.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I had scratched on something sharp, and it had cut through my pants and into my skin.

"Ouuchhh, arghh!" I winced, looking down to see what had caused the injury. It was a jagged piece of metal sticking out of the wall.

I gritted my teeth and continued to follow Snakey, struggling slightly. But I had to keep going, and I had to get away from the people chasing us. I had to find a safe place.

We eventually reached a clearing devoid of people despite the busy town life sprinting on at full pace on the other side. I peeked my head out, making sure everything was safe before jumping out and landing on my uninjured leg. Then, looking for somewhere to hide, I noticed a horse barn nearby, so convenient as if it was welcoming me in.

I hobbled towards the barn—my injured leg making it challenging—but I managed to slip through the entrance without being seen. Inside, I found a large, empty haystack and immediately climbed in.

Letting out a sigh of relief, knowing that I had managed to escape, I carefully examined my leg and found the wound deep and long. Naturally, I didn't have any medical supplies, so I had to rely on the haystack to help treat my injury. Ripping off some hay and sorting out the grime, I wrapped it around my leg, begging if it would be enough.

Then, the voices of people searching the alleyway outside resounded. I held my breath, praying that they wouldn't find me. It was impossible to make up complete sentences from distant sounds, especially when the town ambiance deafened them.

"Huh, Snakey, what direction were they even coming from?" I whispered. "From the left or—no, I swear I heard them from..?"

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A sharp finger tapped on the back of my head twice.

"They're coming from here, kid," a crisp, dark voice echoed.

I was too overwhelmed by turmoil to move as a humanoid shadow emerged from behind.

Turning around, I saw a towering figure draped in an ink-black cloak with a hood that covered his face. He wore a white mask with a long, pointed nose and two circular eyes resembling a plague doctor. His gear was adorned with intricate patterns of stars and moons, emanating a supernatural aura from unreality.

The man brought out a royal-blue card covered in divine imprints, seemingly out of thin air. Then, with the snap of his fingers, it disappeared as my prey teleported into the scene, sending an uncanny pang down my spine. It wasn't because there sprouted any magical particles or chimed tumultuous sounds. Instead, he simply blinked into the haystack as if he always were there.

"Now, my money," demanded the cloaked man, reaching an open palm at my prey. "You promised whoever caught this boy would receive a prize."

He stepped forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small pouch. Placing it into the man's hand, he bowed his head in fright.

"A-as we agreed," he stammered. "May I also have the pleasure to know their name?"

The cloaked man nodded in acknowledgment, then scratched the back of his head. "Hmm, I suppose you could call me The Virtuoso. I like the sound of it. And drop the formality, won't ya?"

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Virtuoso. Ahem, uhh, the name is Rupert Gainsborough from the Wollstone house," he said, still with a hint of trepidation as he invited to shake hands. "Now that I've seen your strenght, would you be interested in working for me? You know, as a bodyguard or something."

"Nah, I'll pass," he answered, still shaking Rupert's hand. "But I suppose you wanted to do something with that boy, seeing you paid me to hunt him down?"

"Right..."

Without delay, Rupert pointed his greasy finger at me. "And as for your punishment, boy, I want you to bring five gold coins to the Wollstone house within 48 hours!"

"Oh, come on, take it easy, man," sighed The Virtuoso, raising both arms to the sides. "That boy isn't even worth half as much. He could sell his soul to the devil and wouldn't even bring you enough. So why don't I share my thoughts with you instead?" he grinned, laying his hand on Rupert's shoulder and leaning toward his ear.

Rupert's expression changed thrice during the whispering, going from puzzlement to contemplation and, finally, a crooked smirk.

"Well, that's just my opinion. You're the one who decides," teased The Virtuoso, waving goodbye. "Anyway, see ya... maybe? Maybe not? And you too, boy."

Without delay, The Virtuoso blinked away as if he had never existed, leaving me in awe and with myriad questions.

Looking back at Rupert, enmity and irritation overpowered my dumbfounded sense. "So, whatcha gonna do? Beat me up? Do it quick, won't you?"

"Heh, you're rather lucky today. And, no, I'm not going to beat you up." Rupert crossed his arms as his expression got serious. "You will murder that snake with your two own hands."

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