We open to the sight of a man running frantically through a forest. There are tears streaming from his eyes, his nose runny. His clothes are ripped and tattered, stained with his own blood.
The man looks back, as if to see if the coast is clear. He looks forward as he continues to run for his life, when suddenly –
SSHHLUCK!
A spear, from out of nowhere, slices into the head of the poor male. He flops to the ground, bloody. Dead. Luther Grim slowly enters in frame, approaching his kill.
“In the wild, where I roam, there is no room for weakness. There are no orders to be taken. I navigate the shadows with ruthless efficiency, driven solely by my own discretion. I don’t need consent to pursue my prey, to stalk their every move, and to claim victory with a primal satisfaction.”
“But unlike me, there is Jackson Cade, the puppet in blue. An instrument in the hands of others, always waiting for the next move, the next command. He is led, guided, and controlled. His every action, every word, every thought, is dictated by someone else. He can’t be his own man, because he is a tool, being wielded and manipulated in the grand game of law and order. “
Luther steps on the man’s back for leverage as he yanks back his spear. He chuckles with approval, as blood continues to rush from the man’s head.
“But you see, I am a wolf amidst the sheep. I don’t follow the herd, I stalk it. I don’t wait for the right time, I make it. I am not just a player in the game. I am the game. I hunt with unwavering conviction, without fear of reprisal, without the need for validation. I don’t need to be told when to strike, when to retreat. I know. I decide. And I act.”
“Soon, I will tear Jackson Cade apart limb by limb, and I won’t think twice about it. I will stick my hand in his rotting carcass, and I will give him glass for eyes. Because I am not bound by the rules of society, nor can I be chastised for my methods. I am free to pursue my prey with a single-minded determination that knows no bounds.”
“Whereas Jackson Cade will continue to dance to the tune of his superiors. He will continue to be maneuvered and manipulated. He may think that he holds power, but it is an illusion, a fragile facade built upon the whims of those who control him. He is but a pawn in their game, a disposable tool to be discarded when no longer useful. And come Sunday, I am going to treat him as such.”
Luther bends over to lift the man up, as he hoists him across his shoulders, a new trophy in his possession.
“Because in the realm of The Hunter, there is no need for permission. There is no need for sanction. I rule with an iron will, a predator without mercy. And at Thunder, Jackson Cade will come to understand the true meaning of fear.”
“It’s hunting season.”