Stryker and his men trudged to the riverbank where Nathan had been washed up.Strucker led the way, his gloved hands gripping a handheld device that pulsed with a soft red light, tracking the chip embedded in the bullet they had fired.
"Hold," he barked, raising a hand.
He crouched low, plucking the deformed bullet from the mud. The tracking light was gone. With a flick of his thumb, he shone a narrow torch over the slug, scraping off the crusted blood with his knife. His jaw tightened. In frustration, he hurled the spent bullet into the river, the splash swallowed instantly by the rain.
They'd failed.
Dr Boliver's orders were clear—capture the mutant within the allotted time or pull back. Their funding was thin; resources couldn't be wasted on one runaway when dozens of other viable subjects were waiting to be caught and experimented on. Supplies were dwindling. Even the helicopter Strucker had called in had been delayed. And now the damned rain had washed away their dogs' last chance of a scent.
He stood slowly, rain dripping from his coat brim, eyes narrowing as he fixed his gaze on the distant mountain.
"Gather the others," he said, his voice low "We leave at dawn."
High above in the mountan, Nathan sat perched on a thick tree branch, his body a patchwork of bruises, cuts, and makeshift bandages. He unwound the filthy strip of cloth from his foot — nearly healed now — and retied it around the bleeding gash on his thigh. Another strip, torn from what was left of his shredded pants, he shoved into the puncture wound on his shoulder.
The pain barely registered anymore. Either he was getting tougher, or his body was edging closer to collapse.
Earlier, climbing toward the ridgeline, he'd stumbled into a grizzly feeding on a deer. He'd startled it, and the beast had lunged. Only his reflexive use of his earth-manipulating ability had saved him from being mauled to death. He'd limped away shaken and with a prize.
Now the deer's leg rested beside him on the branch. Nathan stared at it, throat working.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered.
He tore a bloody chunk from the meat, grimaced at the raw, gamey taste, and forced himself to chew. Slimy, chewy, disgusting , but food was food. He spat out a stray blade of grass stuck to his tongue, shivering at the taste. His stomach growled as he took another bite.
Just a few more… and it'll be over, he told himself.
After choking down the last stringy bite of meat, Nathan dropped the deer's leg and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His stomach lurched, but at least it was full. He couldn't afford to stay there. Those bastards were still out there somewhere, and if they found him perched like a wounded bird, he would be finished.
He swung himself down from the tree, his bare feet sinking into the wet earth.He knew how dangerous it was to travel after dark — predators moved freely, and one misstep could send him tumbling off a cliff — but he had no choice.
Nathan climbed. His hands scraped over rough bark and stone, every muscle trembling with fatigue. At last, he reached the peak. Cold wind tore at his shredded clothes, and he squinted into the distance.
Lights. A city sprawled across the valley floor in the distance,
Instead of relief, he felt his knees becoming weak. The distance was still enormous. His breath hitched, and a bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"It's over," he muttered to the empty night. "I'm going to die out here."
Then the sound hit him — a low, mechanical buzzing, building into a thudding roar. Helicopter blades.
His head snapped up. Heart pounding, Nathan scrambled behind the thick trunk of a tree just as the helicopter passed overhead. Its spotlight swept the ridge, slicing through the darkness, then moved on.
The instant it was gone, Nathan bolted. He ran downhill, half-sliding, half-falling ,blurring past as branches whipped at his arms. He didn't dare look back
Time skip,in the morning
Nathan had walked all night until dawn. He looked like a zombie—dried blood clung to his clothes, his eyes were red and hollow from lack of sleep, and his torn garments hung loosely from his frame. His lips were cracked, his vision blurred, and even keeping his eyes open was a struggle. He stumbled against a small tree, steadying himself as he scanned the clearing.
That's when he spotted a man lying flat on the ground, a hunting rifle resting in front of him.
Nathan circled cautiously, inching closer until he was right behind the man. The figure turned—only to see a rock rushing toward his face before darkness swallowed him. Nathan let the bloody stone fall from his hand and crouched to search the body. Asking for help would've been easier and more humane, but he simply couldn't risk it.
Rummaging through the man's pockets, Nathan found car keys, a few crumpled dollar bills, and a folded map. Opening it, he realized it was detailed and hand-marked with notes: "my secret parking spot," "my house," "hunting spots." kinda odd but useful.
His eyes lingered on the house. It was isolated. Perfect.
Nathan made his choice. The man couldn't be left alive—not if Nathan was going to take his place for a while. He raised the rock again, striking until the skull caved in. Breathing hard, he slung the rifle over his shoulder, tucked the map under his arm, and set off to find the car.
He scanned the area, looking for anything that could be the vehicle. After a tense few minutes of stumbling through underbrush he spotted it,a dark green SUV partially hidden behind a stand of trees.
He tracked towards it and unlocked the door then inserted the key onto the ignition then turned it.
The engine roared to life. Relief flooded him. Automatic. No clutch which is a lifesaver because he hadn't driven a car before. He slumped back in the seat, letting the hum of the engine steady him for a moment before he pressed the gas.
The SUV rolled forward onto the rough path, wheels crunching over rocks and twigs. Nathan kept his eyes on the map, navigating toward the outskirts of Spokane .After driving for a while he finaly arrived at the house, as the map had promised, was isolated—a small structure tucked away at the edge of the city, surrounded by thick trees and an overgrown yard.
He killed the engine and sat in the silence for a moment, listening for any sounds of chatting coming out of the house but the only thing he heard was the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
Nathan stepped out, keeping low, and approached the house cautiously. The door was unlocked—lucky for him. He slipped inside, moving as quietly as possible.
The interior was a nightmare. Clothes and trash were scattered across the floor. Empty food containers and soda cans littered every surfac. It was a pigsty. He scanned the rooms, noting that there was no sign of anyone else living here.
So the man had been living alone. That explained a lot.
Nathan didn't bother cleaning up. He made his way to the bedroom and collapsed onto the unmade bed. His body ached, and exhaustion pulled at him like a vice. For the first time since he had arrived in the world of marvel , he let himself sink fully into the mattress, shutting his eyes and giving in to a hard-earned, if temporary, rest.
End of chapter.