Erron Black left the inn an hour later.

He was by all means not afraid of anybody hunting him down, but there were a few sayings about hanging around the scene of a crime, so he decided to bail as soon as possible.

The leader of the little hunting party was not hard to crack at all. A little hair pulling from Black and he sung like a songbird.

They were sent by a man named Hunter, apparently the leader of the Mambas and the most terrifying soul to ever blah, blah, blah; he zoned out after he found out the guy's name. In the goon's words, "He was a bit upset that you shot Malcolm, so he sent us." This is what gangster's were like nowadays? Unbelievable.

The best part was, Mister Hunter was holed up in a warehouse on Fourth Street.

He was sick and goddamned tired of Earthrealm.

After receiving the information he wanted, Erron knocked out his informant with a quick pistol whip, gathered his guns and gear,-- as well as a knife or two-- and left the inn, swiping his gold coin off the innkeeper's counter as he did.

The leader sounded like a tool, the men were poor at best, and the whole gang reminded him of a bad joke; "What do you get when a gang of losers is led by a clown?" Nevertheless, the Mambas had had a few too many attempts on his life for him to let slide, and he never took kindly to assassination attempts.

If Mister Hunter wanted him dead, he could hunt him down and kill him himself.

______________________________________

"I've got it, Jacob!" Hunter shouted animatedly at his underling, "I should hunt him down and kill him myself!"

Jacob felt that somehow, in some way, this was ironic. "Wait, what?"

The leader of the Mambas put his cellphone back into his pocket. "I just got off the phone with Ryan, and he said, quite colorfully, that the cowboy kicked the crap out of them. By the way, did you pick up the aspirin and Band-Aids?"

"Yes sir."

"Good," Hunter grinned, "Now, back on topic, Ryan said that after long and excruciating torture, he gave up my name and location. So what does that usually mean?"

"He's coming for you?" Jacob replied nervously.

"Correct. And how do I usually respond?"

"Well the way you put it," the young mobster answered, "You, 'Send in the cavalry.'"

"Right again, but not this time," Hunter took his blue fedora off and looked at it disapprovingly for a bit. "Walk with me," he said as he exited his office. Jacob followed.

As the two exited the office, they were met with almost the entirety of the Mambas working on cleaning the warehouse. Hunter said that he wanted the place to be more homey, so the men were quick to obey. He walked along the sparkling clean corridors with a friendly, yet dangerous gait, like a shark that decide that it was not hungry.

"So as I was saying," Hunter said to Jacob over his shoulder, "I usually send a team of men or some sneaky assassins to kill people I want dead, but this time is different. He took out Ryan and a team of four. To be frank, he's good."

"Credit where it's due aside, sir," said Jacob, "Ryan and them are by far not our best guys."

"Right you are, Jacob," Hunter agreed as he opened the door to his room and walked in, "but my point still stands. He killed Steven,-- who was one of my best-- and even saw through my assassins." He took his hat off and placed it on a nearby hook. "He's good."

The gang leader walked over to his mirror and ran a hand through his red hair that he was so proud of. The ladies at the hair salons always went on about how pretty it is. People always thought it was dyed, never believing it to be naturally such a color. "Hey, where are those sodas I told you to get?"

"Here, sir," he grabbed a can out of the fridge in the boss's room and handed it too him. "You said you'd take care of him yourself," Jacob reminded him as he opened the soda.

"Ah, yes," Hunter answered after taking a sip, "I figured I would find out where he is, and kill him." He said this like he was talking about the answer to a test question.

"Okay, very good, sir," Jacob replied, unsure.

"Do you doubt my skill, Jacob?" Hunter asked walking to his closet.

"No, no, it's not that," he replied quickly. God forbid he make the man mad. "Just... what do you know about this guy?"

"Well," he said while putting on a black cowboy hat he got in Texas, "He's apparently a cowboy."

"Yes," Jacob said, rolling his eyes as Hunter laughed, "But you don't know his fighting style, or his priorities, or his weaponry. He could have more surprises."

Hunter put the cowboy hat back in his closet and instead pulled out a gray beret. "Hmm, you may have a point." He put the beret on and looked in the mirror. He shook his head and threw the hat back on the closet. "Alright then," he announced, "I'll send my two best guys. Do me a favor and get Lee up here."

"Should I tell him to bring his gun?"

"How else does a sharpshooter fight?"

"Okay," Jacob went to leave. At the door, though, he had one last question. "Who's the other guy you're gonna be sending out?"

"Why, yourself of course."

Erron Black chapter done in about an hour, so please excuse any grammar mistakes.

Mister Hunter is a made up character, but I still do not own MKX or Erron Black. Soon...

That's all I've gotta say for now so Until later my gators