Nazreen

Chapter One

In a bar known as Morio's, immortal bounty hunter Emilio stood alone against a wall, arms folded as he watched the new crowd take their pickings. It was that time of the week again- Sunday morning- where the hunters and the wannabe hunters gathered down at the bulletin boards and waited for the coming week's postings.

Emilio had learnt over the years that a Sunday morning was the best time for this.

From the wall, he examined the crowd, searching for any competition.

In places like this, he rarely ever met any.

I'm above this.

The competition always appeared in the field, but it was good to scope out those who were trying.

At the front of the crowd, there were the average hunters. Hunters that got in with the easiest hits and rode off of the glory. They'd never be rich, but at least they felt good trying. Good for some. He needed real success. This superficial bull crap wouldn't cut it.

Emilio craved a challenge.

Just behind them were the newbies, standing back to learn from those at the front. Emilio knew most of them would die before the week was up. With the easy hits already taken, they had no choice but to go for the moderately hard ones. More often than not, the hunted became the hunters and skivvied them along the way, but Emilio knew the newbies could die creatively.

As a matter of fact, he rather liked to watch. Their deaths made for good assassination inspiration.

Those that watched from a fair distance away were the experienced hunters.

Starting and ending with Emilio, seemingly the only legend here.

He was the master of his trade, seasoned by success and hard work. He'd earnt the right to look down on these fuckers.

"Mysterious hunter guy," The redheaded bartender greeted on her rounds, picking up glasses and plates wherever she saw them. "Is this finally the week where you tell me your name or am I going to have to wait until next Sunday to ask you again?"

"I've told you my name a hundred times before."

"Maybe, but you've told me a hundred different names. No one's name is that long."

Emilio smiled at her.

His smile was fake.

He and this bar had their routines.

Emilio had been coming to this place every Sunday at the same time for years, waiting to pick up whatever bounty was left. The hard stuff. The shit he could sink his teeth into. The routine had him doing the same things and speaking to the same types of people every week without failure. Rosa- the barmaid- was a consistency amongst a sea of changing faces.

They were flirty right now, but Emilio knew her advances would change. Those slow, lingering touches would become more intimate. More sexual. And yet there was only one way those advances would end.

Emilio didn't have time for women, hook-ups and flings. Not with the storm around the corner. He dibble dabbled with sex every now and then, but the barmaid wasn't much his type. He liked his women a little less nosy. A little less desperate. A little quieter, like him.

Unfortunately, his position forced him into playing nice and flirting back. Emilio knew that a day might come where he'd need the barmaid. Playing nice would pay off eventually.

It wasn't that he was above her, per se. He was, however, above her intentions.

A quick fuck just wasn't his thing. And barmaid Rosa? She had it written all over her.