Donovan was running for his life. Shots ricocheted around him twisting - PDF document

Donovan was running for his life. Shots ricocheted around him twisting metal and shattering concrete. The whip - cracking thunder of the .50 caliber rounds echoed in the megatropolin jungle. Crack . Miss . Graceful. Fluid. His superhuman strength , speed, and ninja - esque movements propelled him forward, upward, diagonally, downward, and every other way. Crack . A wake of destruction littered the streets. Like a motorboat tearing through solid matter. Crack . He made the ultimate prey. Nearly impossible to see . C rack . His moves, already a blur, concealed by the pinnacle of stealth tech nology . Crack . Limitless fortunes poured into his suit. Invisible to thermal. Invisible on all bands of radiation. Radar. Sound. Distortions of light. His supremacy as spy and assass in had never been contested . Crack. She was good though. The Huntress. She was obsessed. She had marked her colleague for dea th . Crack. Crack . As C hief Inquisitor of intelligence and counter - intelligence Donovan was t he acme of evasion and unobserved intelligence gathering. The huntress had been hunting down his agents for years. Crack . It was never enough for her. He was the most exciting thing to hunt. Crack . She loved the hunt . It was an addiction. They were once lovers. He had spurned her. Crack . The ultimate predator. The ultimate prey. An impossible love. Crack . The huntress was also on the move, almost as fast as Donovan . She never fired from the same place twice a nd her perception was inhumanly. Her fury burnt like cold fusion . Her calculations were flawless. The hunting algorithms in her armor were melded into her instincts. They were amped up and could go no higher. She would have hit him every time. Except he was better . He was unpredictable . Usually she turned off all external aids , it made it more of a challenge . Donovan required everything she could get her hands on. She could faintly perceive the sound of the air rushing around him, the wobble of air molecules disturbed by his passing. She was hunting a ghost. Footprints shifting dust. Pressure applied to objects. Detecting him was imp ossible . Traces of his passing were hardly better. Tears had dried on her face. Long drie d. Her inhuman hunting instincts were impassionate. Her heart was dialed down. Calm. Steady. Breath. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Every shot was microseconds apart. Every microsecond was dilated beyond real time. She was in her zone. Adjusting for every shot, with oceans of time. She chased him for days in real time. Eons and eons passed of the time that exists between each moment, that spans into eternity. Eventually she ran out of ammo, and Donovan had run out of patience. He returned to her and removed her shooting hand with his invincible katana. He said nothing. She said nothing. He disappeared. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I love you .”