George's proposal was thick with ulterior motives.
It was a blatant attempt to break up the loving young couple, and frankly, a move that could easily have invited disaster upon himself. Fortunately, Helen was there. She stepped in just in time to shut down George's impractical, overreaching fantasies, successfully saving his life.
After all, if George and Locke were in a room together, there was no telling if someone might "mysteriously disappear" by morning. Locke could personally guarantee that the person missing wouldn't be him.
The lodge's rooms weren't arranged in a typical multi-story hotel layout. Instead, there was a large main hall with rooms branching out from either side—very similar to a classic motel. Inside, the rooms had everything needed: beds, windows, a bathroom, and a shower. It wasn't high-end, but it was comprehensive.
Most of the people who came here were hunters carrying their own firearms. This layout was practical; in the event of an emergency, it allowed trained individuals to react and seek cover quickly. Of course, the lodge mostly served regulars—friends of Rebecca and her current husband, many of whom were former or current law enforcement officers.
During the barbecue party that evening, Locke even met a Ranger from his home state of Texas.
"Walker!"
The man wore a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, looked to be in his late thirties, had a neatly trimmed beard, and spoke with a thick Texas drawl. He shook Locke's hand firmly. "Cordell Walker."
Locke extended his own hand. "Broughton. Locke Broughton."
"I know you. Our Lone Star State's youngest 'First Cowboy.'"
"Right back at you."
Cordell Walker blinked, looking slightly confused. Locke just smiled. 'The you from another world.'
Hello there, Sam Winchester!
Cordell didn't dwell on Locke's cryptic remark. He tipped his cowboy hat. "So, Locke, you here for the hunt tomorrow? I recall..."
Locke turned to introduce George. "Stacy. George Stacy, NYPD Captain. This is Cordell, a Texas Ranger."
The moment the introductions were done, Locke grabbed Gwen and beat a hasty retreat.
Gwen looked puzzled. "What's wrong?" Usually, if Locke saw someone from his home state, especially a fellow cowboy, he was incredibly warm.
But this time? Among the myriad of law enforcement agencies, the Texas Rangers were the one group Locke least liked dealing with. Simply put, other agencies might rely on intuition, but the Texas Rangers? Those men loved to work based on gut feeling. Intuition and gut feeling were two very different concepts.
Most importantly...
Locke led Gwen to a different corner, sat down, and whispered, "Let me tell you a little Texas secret. The Texas Rangers are actually the earthly servants of Mephisto, the Prince of Darkness."
Gwen tilted her head. "Is that another local Texas legend?"
Locke shrugged. It was and it wasn't. While the statement was a bit hyperbolic, long ago, a certain Texas Ranger was Mephisto's servant, using his badge to deliver a massive quantity of fresh, delicious souls to the underworld.
And just now... Locke had caught a whiff of something demonic on Cordell Walker. It was faint, but definitely there. The scent was remarkably similar to Blackheart's—the demon he'd dealt with before—but the quality of this aura was much higher than that of the pure-blooded demon prince.
Who outranks the son of a demon? Mephisto.
It seemed Mephisto was currently scouting Cordell, but hadn't quite closed the deal yet. Regardless, Locke was on vacation. He preferred not to go looking for trouble if he didn't have to.
Locke smiled to himself. The face was the same face—one deeply entangled with Hell. How could he change his name and become a Texas Ranger and not have a direct connection to the underworld?
Gwen leaned against Locke's arm, watching a massive slab of beef rotating over the campfire, sizzling with fat. She smiled. "I believe we'll definitely go to Heaven, Locke."
Locke: "..."
'Heaven, huh?' Locke looked up at the sky, just as Gwen did.
Technically, Marvel has a Hell, but it doesn't really have a Heaven in the biblical sense. However, this world had already proven it wasn't Standard Marvel. He'd seen plenty of demons in his time, but as for angels? He hadn't seen a feather yet.
Locke smiled down at Gwen. "Yes. We'll go to the Silver City."
...
The next morning.
Just as the sky was beginning to turn gray, the *thrum-thrum-thrum* of rally motorcycles began to echo through the air. By the time Locke and Gwen had finished washing up and stepped outside, George, Hank, and Cordell—whom they'd met the night before—were already fully geared up.
"Here, coffee!"
"Thanks."
Locke and Gwen entered the main hall and accepted two cups of coffee from Rebecca. Locke handed one to Gwen and looked curiously at George and Hank, who were huddled around a large table. "Claiming territory?"
"Yes," Rebecca said. "Because of the situation in the neighboring county, that area is locked down."
The escaped serial killer and the murderers. Even without the lockdown, thirty-some hunters heading into the woods needed to plan their routes to avoid unpleasant situations. For example, if a boar got shot from the left and the right at the same time, who did it belong to? Or worse... what if someone accidentally shot a person?
Usually, hunters wore bright orange safety vests. Unless someone was blind, they wouldn't shoot at a moving orange object.
A moment later, the group seemed to reach an agreement. They grabbed their maps and began to disperse in pairs or small groups, heading into the mountains. If they didn't leave soon, they'd miss the boars' breakfast time.
George and Hank walked over.
"How is it?" Rebecca asked. "Did you snag a good spot?"
"Leica Lake."
"Not bad," Rebecca noted. She turned to Helen. "That's what I was saying—if it weren't for the boar infestation, Leica Lake would be a perfect spot for a picnic or camping."
Leica Lake was nestled deep in the mountains. Looking at the map, it was actually quite close to the neighboring county line, though the lockdown zone was south of the lake, separated by a fair distance. The police in the neighboring county were confident; in their eyes, a killer fleeing into the woods was like a rabbit entering a burrow—only a matter of time before he was caught.
George handed three orange safety vests to Locke.
Helen waved them off. "Rebecca and I are staying here to chat and drink coffee."
George froze. "I thought you were coming with us?"
Helen shook her head. "No, dear. I said I haven't seen Rebecca in a long time. I never said I was going into the woods with you. Go on—just remember to bring Gwen and Locke back safely."
George had an epiphany. This was another warning: Don't think that just because I'm not there, you can make Locke disappear.
George tried to resist. "Gwen, since your mom isn't going, why don't you stay here too?"
Gwen took the orange vest from George, put it on, flipped her ponytail, and raised her binoculars. "I'm Locke's spotter."
Locke had purchased a Remington 700 with an 8x scope, which had an effective range of eight hundred meters. But in Locke's hands? He estimated he could probably stretch that to at least two thousand meters. Otherwise, he'd be doing a disservice to his Gun Kata skills. A player's weapon is just a modifier; the level of the skill determines the true damage. Even at two kilometers, Locke was confident he could blow a boar's skull clean off.
George opened his mouth. Finally, he let out a disappointed sigh. He glanced at Locke out of the corner of his eye and thought,
'Fine. I'll just find another chance to go deep-sea fishing.'
Locke noticed the look but didn't care. He was used to it. Besides, it wouldn't matter—Gwen was coming along, and she had binoculars. If George "mysteriously disappeared," she'd go insane. Deep-sea fishing was indeed a better option. George hadn't worn a helmet last time; if Locke hadn't been feeling merciful, Gwen's father would already be in line for a horse in the afterlife.
*Vroom, vroom!*
George and Hank hopped onto a rugged rally bike. George looked at Locke, who was helping Gwen with her helmet. "Everything good?"
Locke gave a thumbs-up.
Hank said, "The coordinates are plugged in. Just follow the GPS. We're heading out to find the game first."
"Got it."
Hank twisted the throttle, and the bike roared, surging onto the dirt path leading into the mountains. Erin followed on her own bike, giving Locke and Gwen a quick wave before chasing after them.
Locke checked Gwen's helmet one last time to ensure it was secure. "Hold on tight. We're off."
Gwen wrapped her arms around Locke's waist and gave an affirmative hum. Locke tapped the small screen mounted on the handlebars. The GPS lit up, showing the route from the lodge to Leica Lake.
The next second, Locke twisted the throttle.
Departure.
Hunting!!
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We're 400 stones already. Just 100 more and I'll drop 3 chapters asap.
Thanks for the support 💕
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