The Tiny Luna (mpreg)

Chapter 83

Dozens of men descended on the group causing the women to scream and the men to shout in alarm. Mason dropped his can of beans which spilled all over the snow as two pairs of arms grabbed onto him, one of them wrapping an arm around his chest, and started dragging him away from the fire even as Mason struggled. Christopher was still warming his hands staring into the fire like nothing had happened while his men tussled with the homeless people. Most surrendered immediately, begging them not to hurt them or those they cared about. The kind old man was shielding a small child with his body, trying to get the men to talk in a civil manner rather than using violence. The rest were fighting back with everything they had, especially the warrior wolf who was literally throwing men off him in all directions. One of the gossiping old ladies pulled a switch blade out from nowhere and started swiping at the air, challenging the men in black to take her on if they dared reminded Mason of a pirate. Mason himself struggled managing to wrench one of his arms free of the smaller man using his leg to trip the taller man so they all tumbled backward onto the snow. Mason was the first up, throwing snow in their faces to blind them, before Mason took off like a shot.

"After him!" someone shouted behind him, all the hunter's taking off after the red head leaving the rest of the homeless people behind who watched them leave just as fast as they had come in a stunned silence. Dozens of men in dark clothing were on Mason's heels, a few pulling out weapons mainly tranquilizers, but Mason was used to evading them and soon he disappeared. The men returned after searching, their leader hanging his head as he approached the campfire again. Christopher hadn't moved, snowflakes landing on his black coat. The fire reflected in his eyes but he didn't seem mad though it was nearly impossible to read his expression. "We lost him sir. He 'disappeared' and we lost him in the snow," the man reported, standing like a solider with his hands behind his back.

"I'm not surprised. We cornered him so he had no other options," Christopher said with a smirk, standing up slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "Do a sweep of the perimeter, collect his things, and meet me back at the base," Christopher said, tipping his imaginary hat to the kind homeless man before turning away as he men moved to follow his orders. The homeless group watched the pale man walk farther away as the men in black searched the campsite and the last sighting of Mason. The snow fell heavily around Christopher and before they knew it, he was just a shadowed figure in the distance.

--------------------

"He knew how to get me to shift. How to get me in a tight spot that was almost inescapable. Honestly, I think I mostly got away only by pure luck or some other worldly source," Mason said, bewildered by his own fortune. "They used to pop up every few months, the most I'd go without seeing them was four months. Then when Christopher appeared, taking charge of the chase, I'd go maybe two weeks or less without seeing them at best. The closest they got to capturing me for real was a month ago..."

--------------------

Mason lifted the trash can lid, revealing the garbage within, and let out a loud groan when there was nothing but old newspapers and empty plastic containers. "This is the fourth one! Was there a huge paper mache convention no one told me about?" Mason thought to himself, slamming the trash can lid down in frustration when he felt a presence at the entrance of the alley way. Mason froze, slowly looking toward the street, and saw a familiar pale man with cold black eyes standing there with that business smile Mason was all too familiar with. "Can we not?" Mason asked in a whiny tone, his stomach growling audibly almost causing him to double over. He hadn't eaten in... a week? A month? Mason had been running for his life almost everyday thanks to Christopher and his men and today was no exception.

"Well, that's completely up to you," Christopher said coolly, eyeing a rat as it scurried from under a dumpster away from him.

"Even the rodents are scared of him," Mason thought dryly, reaching a hand up to his forehead. He was feeling light headed. "What do you want from me? I'm nothing special! I'm just abnormally small. So what!?" Mason snapped, feeling fed up with the hunter's. "When will this cat and mouse game end?" Mason asked with a whimper, gently kicking the foodless trashcan.