Chapter 1
Hunter Rossi's Point Of View.
Hunter. A name that tells you exactly who I was and what I was about.
It was a name that felt right, like it fitted me perfectly. It was strong and clear, just like how I used to see myself then. Some might think it was funny given what's happened in my life, but to me, it was a sign of strength, a reminder of what I was made of.
The room was a mess, just like my life. Clothes were scattered across the floor, empty takeout containers were piled high in the corner, and a thick layer of dust was coating everything in sight but in the middle of the chaos, there was a sense of purpose in the air.
I stood in the center of the room, fists clenched, sweat dripping down my brow across my face as I pounded away at the old punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Each blow was repeated several times through the room while echoing the turmoil surfacing in my mind.
Revenge. It was all I could think about these days.
In the real world, revenge was not some grand gesture or dramatic showdown. It was more about the small calculated steps you take, the careful planning and quite preparation. It was about biding your time and waiting for the right moment to strike.
Revenge was like a chess game. You have to think ahead, strategize, and use every advantage you could find. It was about turning the tables on those who had hurted me and making sure they would pay for what they had done but again revenge was not just about getting back at someone. It was about making things right again, bringing balance back to the order of my life.
It was about justice, plain and simple in its purest form.
Ever since they took everything from me, it had become my one and only goal in life. The thought of making them pay of bringing them to justice, consumed me like a fire burning deep within my soul.
The sound of glass breaking shattered the silence and brought me back from the depths of my thoughts into grounding me in reality. I blinked, as my eyes were refocusing with the attention as I glanced around the room, while trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the punching bag I had been using for practice and crossed the room to inspect the damage. I took out a sharp knife from the nearby drawers as I scanned my messy room. After few steps, I noticed a small shard of glass lying on the floor near the window and Ms. Susan, my feline companion, twitched her ears and her whiskers in curiosity as she looked at me innocently. I took a breath of relief and relaxed myself but it felt like a wake-up call, a reminder that I could not afford to lose myself in my thoughts for too long.
Ms. Susan? She was a stray cat I had found wandering the streets one night. I had taken her in, named her Ms. Susan, and she had become my only companion in this desolate world. She was a beautiful creature, with sleek fur while the color of midnight and eyes that sparkled like jewels in the dim light. She padded around the room with a grace and elegance that seemed out of place amidst the clutter and chaos. I had made a bed for her in the corner, a soft pile of blankets and pillows where she could curl up and sleep. Each and every night, she would purr softly as she slept, a soothing sound that eased the ache in my heart and the recurring nightmares.
Ms. Susan padded over to me while her soft purrs were breaking the silence as I knelt down to clean the mess. "You always come running when there's trouble, don't you?" I murmured while smiling as I scratched behind her ears.
Ms. Susan meowed in response while rubbing against my leg affectionately. "I know I won't be here forever," I continued, my voice soft. "..but I promise you. I will take care of you as long as I can."
She blinked up at me like her eyes were filled with understanding. "What will you do when I am gone?" I asked as I felt a pang of sadness in my heart.
Ms. Susan nuzzled my hand, as if to reassure me. "You will find someone else to take care of you, hah?" I said while my voice tinged with a chuckle but it served as a stark reminder that I was living on borrowed time. There was work to be done, and I could not afford to waste a single moment.
My mind drifted back to the events that had led me here - the betrayal, the loss, the burning desire for the revenge as I continued to pound away at the punching bag and with each punch, each kick, I poured my anger and frustration into my training while channeling my pain into something productive.
I could not help but replay the following morning twenty years ago in my mind. The morning that changed each and every thing. My dad, a respected RAW chief, betrayed by his not only colleague but also his dear friend. It was like a knife in the gut, knowing that someone close could turn on you like that and now, after all these years, I still could not shake off the feeling of pain of loss and of betrayal.
For in the end, it was the only thing I knew how to do - fight and as the night stretched on, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of my fists meeting the punching bag as well as a steady beat that echoed the relentless pounding of my heart.
I was Hunter Rossi, not some scared kid anymore. I was ready to take back what was stolen from me as I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror, I knew one thing for sure that my quest for revenge was just getting started. I carried the name Hunter with me because in this game of revenge, I was the one doing the hunting, and nothing was going to stop me.
