The burning warehouse deep in the mountain, visible for miles across the dark horizon, lit up like a beacon, marking its exact location throughout the entire Central City.
At the same time, it signaled both hunters and prey—the beginning of the Manhunt.
—"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"—
Trud, Henry, Francis, and the other three bastards screamed in terror as they bashed the van's doors, which had been sealed with duct tape.
All of them had injured legs, but it wasn't like they couldn't endure the pain if it meant running for their lives. They tore off the duct tape sealing their mouths since their fingers weren't bound, then bit through the duct tape restraining their hands.
They thought they could easily escape after the three fuckers who captured them were gone, only to discover that the van's doors wouldn't open no matter how hard they tried.
