In the Groves, a rifleman confronts Luther Grim, their eyes locked in a deadly stare. With desperate intent, the rifleman aimed at Luther, but fate intervened – the rifle’s trigger clicked in vain.
A wicked smile curved across Luther’s face, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. In one swift motion, Luther hurled his spear with lethal precision. The spear cut through the air like a predator, finding its mark with horrifying accuracy. It impaled the man’s skull, extinguishing his life in an instant.
Luther begins to chuckle as he approaches the rifle on the forest floor. He picks it up, its weight familiar but alien in his hands.
“Every man,” he begins, “has their own trusty steed. Their companion that carries them through the journey of life. For some, it’s a horse, a creature of flesh and blood that can carry them from one horizon to another. For others, it’s a loving dog, a creature of loyalty and affection who stands by them through thick and thin.”
Luther runs his fingers over the cold metal of the firearm, feeling the ridges and grooves, the scars it carries from its past.
“But for this man, it would appear it was his rifle. His mechanical steed. His trusted companion. I imagine he had rehearsed this scene a thousand times. He knew his weapon, every inch of it. He knew the weight of it in his hands, the smell of the gunpowder, the sound of the bullet leaving its barrel. He had memorized the process of loading, aiming, and firing, and he enacted it to perfection. But sometimes, our most prized possessions, the ones we count on the most, are the ones most likely to betray us.”
Luther’s gaze shifts, a predatory glint in his eyes. “You are much like this man, Jinx. You cling to your technology, your computer systems. You can’t function without your digital steed. You are liable to have some gadget or gizmo at your disposal, ready to bail you out of a tight spot. You depend on it, believe in it, trust it. But what if one day, it doesn’t respond? What if those codes you have written so meticulously fail, Jinx? What if, come Sunday, you are left vulnerable and exposed, just like our little friend here?”
Luther’s voice, filled with a chilling certainty, echoes in the silent forest: “Then, I reckon I would have no choice but to kill you.”
Luther stands tall, his silhouette a stark contrast against the forest backdrop. “Because you see, Jinx,” he says gripping his spear, “Unlike you, I don’t rely on any systems. I don’t press a button and hope for the best. I control my own fate. Each throw of my spear, every step I take, is dictated by me, and me alone. My weapon is an extension of myself, not a crutch. And that’s why it could never let me down, Jinx. Meanwhile, the more you cling to your systems, the more fallible you become. But soon, I am going to put an end to you… once and for all.”
“It’s hunting season.”