"We had to make the deadline." The Hunter spoke out loud. "That's why I used a grenade instead of you. In case you're wondering. Don't worry, it won't happen again." 

It was close to noon; the sun was high and would dominate the sky well into the night. Summer was the season of light and life. It was a time when good little boys and innocent young girls enjoyed the gift of life.  With the top down on his 79’ Mustang, Samuel scanned the heavens. It was as blue as Lake Michigan used to be; there was no sign of rain as far as the eye could see.  But the eye could be deceived, if they were in town, storm clouds would soon envelop Chicago.  A sudden burst of heat on his thigh told him it was time to prepare.

The Bounty Hunter didn’t need to check if the Colt was loaded. The demon weapon always was. Where it got its evil ammunition Samuel did not know and had long since stopped wondering.  The thought in Samuel’s mind was who in this miserable city of millions would be his target and Azazel’s prize. The Hunter looked at the green street signs as he slowly drove down Lincoln Avenue. “He was a cool dude. He ended my first slavery. I liked him,” he thought remembering the great man who dared call him friend. The country lawyer was one of the few reaps he truly regretted, but a deal is a deal and a debt must be paid.

As the Hunter passed from the North side of the Windy City to the South, he noticed the change in the houses and surroundings. Gone were the cute little clothing boutiques, and coffee shops. What replaced them were cheap liquor stores and even cheaper churches. The people were the biggest change. Up North the streets were pretty much devoid of walkers. This made sense to Samuel. It was past eleven in the afternoon, most good people were hard at work or learning in schools, but on the south end of the city, a completely different culture was in play. Some on that side never seemed to find work, at least not the legal kind.  Briefly he remembered a time – long ago, when he believed nothing would hold his people back.

Crossing 61st street, the Colt began to vibrate in its holster. Sometimes it did that when evil was near. Looking at the gang signs that adorned nearly every surface, the Hunter had little doubt that evil festered there.  He would have to be careful; though he himself served evil. Decades of hunting had taught him that unlike His servants, those dominated by evil had few alliances and fewer friends.

Like hot needles stabbing his brain, the Colt sent tendrils of pain into Samuel. The target was near and it must be reaped. The Hunter pulled up to the corner of 63rd and King Drive. Stepping from his car he felt the pull of the Colt. It wanted him to go down the nearby alley. Closing the door behind him, the hunter walked away from his car. He did not raise the top or lock the doors. The wards that protected his stallion would decapitate any normal thief and some less than normal beings.

As The Hunter made his way down the passage a stray dog poked his head around a garage. Animals are usually smarter than people. The mutt took one sniff of Samuel and quickly ran the other way. The three black teens a hundred feet away, made no such retreat.

“Is it one of them?” Samuel asked the Colt. The evil weapon couldn’t speak but it did communicate its wants, and the hunter waited for its signal.

“What you looking to buy, nigga?” The tallest of the group took the lead. “You want a dime bag or a nickel?”

The Bounty Hunter didn’t answer. He looked up at the sun and noted its position. It was high noon. The deadline had come. Returning his eyes to the teens he gauged their ages. The tall one was maybe nineteen, the fat stud in the middle, seventeen, and the little one with the nervous twitch could not have been more than thirteen.

“Why are you wearing that hot ass trench coat in the middle of summer?” As soon as the boy spoke the Colt began to beat. Like a living heart it had suddenly come to life and then sent an image of the deal into the hunter’s mind.

A ten year old boy stood outside Cook County Hospital. Inside, his seventeen year old brother was clinging to life, a victim of a rival gang member’s bullet.

The boy was praying to God, but was unsure of the words. Had he said God? Perhaps he said another name. One he possibly overheard or read somewhere. That part was unknown to Samuel. What was shown to him was a shadowy image he had seen in his own nightmares, advance on the boy. A product of a corroded community the boy, did not run from the figure. He knows what he sees is evil, but wickedness is a common sight for him.

“What will you give for his life?” The question appears open, but it has only one answer.

“I don’t want Marqunte to die.” The boy shows courage beyond his years. “I don’t want him to be hurt anymore. Not by the police. Not by no one. Forever!”

“NO!” The demon surged forward, breaking the boy’s courage and causing him to stumble back.

“Two years is the deal.
His wounds I will heal.
He will have my protection.
Your soul, added to my collection!”

The bargain was struck and the demon vanished. The image faded from the hunter’s eyes. The tall dealer was looking around him, as if he suddenly realized that there was something wrong.

The Hunter looked down at the boy. “A deal was made and now a debt must be paid.”

The boy’s eyes went wide with remembrance and fear. “Kill him. He’s a King!” he shouted.

The fat one rushed the Hunter. He was surprised that someone so large could move so quickly. He spun to his left and like a mad bull the boy flew by his target. Quick eyes caught the taller teen reach into his waistband. A quicker draw brought the Colt free. The Hunter’s left hand pushed back the hammer a millisecond before a well trained finger pulled the trigger.

The sound of thunder and the smell of brimstone filled the air as the dealer fell dead. Without turning the Hunter aimed behind him.

“Don’t sho…” The fat one’s head exploded before his useless plea could be finished.

The Colt vibrated madly in Samuel’s hand. It had come for one soul and consumed two extra, but it was far from satisfied.  The Hunter looked down at the boy cradling his dead brother in his arms. His mind instantly went back to a similar scene over a hundred years ago, and for a moment he knew pity.

“You have eaten well,” he spoke to the Colt. “Is this needed?”

The Colt did not answer, but its vibrations ceased. Samuel holstered his weapon, and turned away from the heart wrenching scene.

The crack of a gunshot, and the force of a bullet slamming into his shoulder, spun Samuel to the ground.  Coming towards him, the boy held his brother’s gun before him. The unmistaken look of murder filled his eyes as he shot again.  Pain and blood burst from Samuel’s thigh. Blocking out the pain, his talented hand reached for the Colt, but it would not draw.  A third shot exploded into the ground next to his head. Charred asphalt and rock fragments peppered his face. With two hands Samuel tugged at his weapon and still he could not free it. The boy stood over Samuel and peered down into his brown eyes.

“You killed my brother.” The boy aimed the gun at his head. “Fuck you, and fuck the devil too!”

 The vibration in his hand brought a moment of relief.  With a speed few living men have witnessed, the hunter drew the Colt and fired twice. The first shot shattered the boy’s gun, the next his heart.

Heat and pleasure seemed to radiate from the Colt as it drank in the boy’s soul. Hearing the sound of sirens in the distance, the Hunter turned and limped back to his waiting Mustang.

By the time he merged onto Lake Shore drive the wounds in his arm and leg were gone, but the lesson he had learned in the alley, remained. Until each and every debt had been paid, he was bound to the Colt, and through it, to Azazel.  The demon lord knew no mercy, and the same must be so for his Bounty Hunter.