After the age of fast weapons, faster decisions and even faster, shorter and potent tempers came the ‘end of days’. In 2065 that aftermath has become a reality, and that reality is sometimes harder to deal with than others. It has fully emerged into the age of poverty, despair, and anger, with a healthy amount of chaos sprinkled on top, you know, just for fun. As with any world altering event, the inner cities were hit the worse, panic in the streets, widespread fear, and of course violence, tons and tons of violence. One of the key factors of ‘corralling’ the chaos was born of necessity rather than need, the age of the bounty hunter. These took the place of the authorities, military, and basically everyone else with a gun who liked to fill their pockets to the brink of bursting with cold hard credits.

One of the best of the worst, or rather the worst of the best would be a better term, goes by the name of Christopher Danger, Chris for short, or ‘oh god please don’t shoot me in the face’ if you happen to be one of this ‘targets’. In Washington D.C. he’s one of the most notorious bounty hunters, if only for his ridiculously high capture rate, which happens to be one hundred percent, publicly. If he has you in his sights, there is no escape, no hiding behind closed doors, sewers, old abandoned skyscrapers where he won’t find you, given time, credits, and the amount of rage he has accumulated that day.

“Why do all the ‘little guys’ try the hardest?” He shook his head in disappointment as he whispered into the summer night, seemingly to noone.

Chris, holed up in a corner of an abandoned office building scanned the rooftops where a shadow slowly, delicately creeped from building to building, head on a swivel for potential threats, as Chris’s eyes tracked his every movement as a owl would to a rodent, with ease.

“It’s because they are the little fish, they haven’t built up enough reputation, nor tempered their paranoia enough to become bigger fish.” Ed responded in Chris’s ear.

Ed, Chris’s ‘handler’, is a ‘Jack of all Trades’ from technology, recover, response, to making sure Chris eats when he’s on long stakeouts, like right now. Speaking of eating, Ed began crunching whatever he was stuffing in this face over the com devices, which made Chris scowl and grunt.

“Sorry old man, I had forgotten, how much you hate that, I'll keep it in check.,”

Before Chris could mutter a decent comeback, the old aches came roaring back in his bones. He grimaced at the sudden, sharp, and intrusive stabbing pains all throughout his body. Suddenly bend over, teeth clenched tight, rubbing his shoulders, elbows and knees, his anger was a close second to the subsiding pain.

“Sixty-five years old isn’t nearly as good as the legends seemed to make it…,” Chris thought to himself.

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Once the worse of the pain, he hoped, started to slide away he searched frantically through his trench coat, sliding around his concealed weapons with years of guided precision. Wrapping his hands around a cylinder, with the practiced motions of a professional, his right hand shot out of his coat and proceeded to press the tool in his hand to his neck and sigh in relief. The rush of adrenaline injected directly into his bloodstream as Chris’s body seized up and his breathing to become ragged. Through the pain, the reality of his age and regardless of the shadows, Chris being out in the open, he totally ignored Ed screaming at him through his ear piece.

“Chris are you okay!? What the hell is happening to you out there!? You look fine one moment and then the next you’re bend over like a whore on Sunday!”

Ed was frantic at this point, all hints of jovial levity long forgotten. He’d never seen Chris this bad before. Sure a couple bruises, bumps, broken bones, but never this close to death in the five years he’d been his ‘right hand man’. Every other sound was blocked out and Ed’s senses darted between Chris’s body monitor and the breathing sounds coming through his speakers surrounding his command center. As his eyes scanned the body monitors, all the red warning lights began to dim and go off, one after another. First from the skeletal sensors, then the muscle warnings, and lastly, the internal organ sensors.

Once the last sensors began to cease their annoying wailing Ed breathed a sigh of relief despite hearing nothing but breathing from his combat lifeline. This was a little too real to be considered just a side effect of the occupation, then it hit him like a brick to the face.

“Chris, the fish! Do you have a lock on the fish!?”

Finally gaining his spatial awareness, Chris’s eyes grew wide and his head shot up the roof time to spot...nothing. In an unusual moment of panic he breaks cover and begins to limp down the abandoned street, searching as much places as his mind and eyes can cover at one time.

“I need eyes in the sky!” Chris spoke into his earpiece.

“Already on it!”

As Ed rushed the last word out of his mouth, his fingers were flying miles a minute. Micro drones flew through the air high above Chris’s location spreading out in all directions to focus down on their prey. Emitting a very low, but very high pitched noises while flying over head, they were similar to very annoying flies in sound and appearance.

“Cee, he’s north on Connecticut Ave! Two blocks over from your position!” Ed’s keystrokes were almost loud enough to drown out his end of the conversation.

“I’m on it!”

With a broad jackal smile that would send a chill down the spine of anyone Chris set his focus, cracked his neck and shot off as fast as his old, battered body would take him. There it was, the thrill of the chase, the prey in his sights and Chris couldn’t wait to track him down. Crossing the two blocks faster than any sixty-five year old had any business doing he was running down the street with renewed vengeance. Scanning the rooftops he couldn’t get a lock on him. As if reading his mind, Ed’s voice came through the ear piece again.

“He’s on the street, running in circles and sees my drones. I’m trapping him in and he doesn’t even know it!” Ed sounded his side of smug.

Chris had to admit, he may be an ass, but he was the best at anything he set his mind to. Not for the first time, Chris thanked whatever above that Ed was on his side and watching his back. Chris’s eyes darted back and forth now centered on the street level. A lone form caught his attention five houses up looking as if they were being lead into a corner surrounded by small insects buzzing around their head. The prey’s hands moved in spastic motions trying to shoo away the pests as Chris slowly crept closer. A piece of glass breaking under foot alerted the fish to Chris’s presence but it was too late.

“Bye bye birdy…,”

The last thing those poor fish saw was a electro bullet heading straight towards his chest....