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We'll do a little frog giggin', cow tippin'
How 'bout a little skinny dippin', bass fishin'
Take it easy on the 'shine
And stay away from other boys' women
That's one damn good way for a
man to get it whooped down here
These boys tough down here
Get your ass tore up down here
And be an all nighter with the hippies and the hicks
Jocks and bikers, they all came
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The eye of a successful hunter was trained to detect weaknesses in prey. As a young boy, Ruger had been able to draw from the slightest inconsistencies of the creatures he hunted: the slightly drooped wing of a grouse, the tenderly swollen joint of a swamp buck, the barest favoring of a limb in a squirrel. Like a wolf, he had long since learned to thrive on these weaknesses...to detect them quickly and use them to his advantage. Through thorough understanding of his prey's abilities during optimal health, the detection of flaws came easily to him. It was a skill that blended into his everyday life, as well. He had a sense for health and vitality even in his observation of other people, and was quite able to tell when someone was not functioning at 100%...even if they didn't look sick.
It was because of his well developed skills of observation that Ruger was able to detect the slightly reduced speed of Polly's movements. She was still catlike in her reflexes as she climbed, her movements sure and fluid. The difference in her speed would probably have been undetectable to the common eye...but not to Ruger's. Something had happened in the short span of time that it had taken him to repel up the paracord, something that caused her enough pain to hinder her former speed. Ruger couldn't possibly begin to assign possible reasons for it, however...whatever injury she suffered was not life threatening, of that he could be sure. So he filed away the knowledge for a later approach, his attention focusing instead on scaling the treacherous obstacle at hand.
Ruger handled himself well as he climbed, balancing his lean muscled mass as evenly as possible as he climbed. He did not trust the fractured wood to hold his weight. While he was not particularly bulky in his mass, he was solidly built...and had to outweigh Polly by nearly 100 pounds. The wood groaned in protest beneath him, and his palms throbbed dully where the paracord had sliced into his skin. Ruger barely noticed, however, so focused his attention on his movements as he followed her up the rest of the ledges. Twice a stair gave away, landing with a muffled thud to the jagged wood below. Ruger was briefly aware that this path would not be suitable for a second crossing...they would have to find another way down when the deed was done. Even with Polly's slight build, he did trust the compromised staircase to allow their passage again without issue.
When Ruger made it to the top, he took the hem of his shirt and quickly wiped the seepage from his palms. He knew that the fresh blood would likely make their wounded target even more frenzied, but there was little that could be done about it. He didn't plan on giving the leech much time to enjoy the scent, let alone contemplate getting a taste. Ruger reached back and pulled the shotgun from his back holster, disengaging the safety once more. The weapon felt comfortable even against his split palms, it's familiar weight drawing his excitement of the hunt to another level. They were close now...even without the fancy gadgets, Ruger could somehow sense it. It was like how he knew a deer would be soon crossing into his range of fire...he just knew. His senses were in overdrive, every finely tuned muscle ready and waiting to for instruction.
Polly's outstretched hand halted him, and he rose a brow as he peered at her in the dimness. Thunder cracked like a bullwhip outside as the rain pounded upon the roof. He could hear water trickling somewhere within the building as the rain found it's way in to the disgusting nest in which they were present. He watched intently, his blue eyes cold and calculating as she drew out the primitive map in the dust of the floor. Ruger allowed himself no more than five seconds to study her hypothesis before focusing his intense gaze back on her. He gave her a brief, affirmative nod to show that he understood and agreed. In the next instant, he was moving, weapon shouldered and ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Ruger moved with a quiet swiftness that was almost eerie. It was something he had done so very many times when securing 'hot zones' in the desert, and in a way he had gone back there, if only in his mind. He made it to his post with time to spare, the shadows obscuring his rugged features as he poised himself...ready to attack. The average person would have likely been chilled by the cold, lethal look about the southern male in that moment. He looked, in those moments, entirely true to his nature...he looked murderous. Barely contained rage seemed to radiate off of him, and his desire for the kill was so thick it was almost pungent in the air itself. There was no doubt, no apprehension...only a confident and sure anticipation.
When Ruger had joked that he had found himself a tigress, he had had no way of knowing that he couldn't have been closer to the truth. Polly looked every bit the part, her lean form poised and ready, murder glittering in those almond-shaped pools. Even in the heat of the moment, Ruger was aware of just how strikingly beautiful she was...could dare say, even, that he had never seen anything more dangerously beautiful. He had watched a cougar stalking a doe through the forest. Had watched her yellow eyes as they'd focused on their target, had watched her muscles coil in wait for the attack. He had seen the sunset cast over the ancient city of Jerusalem on one of his stops when overseas. Had watched the golden light cast long shadows over buildings nearly as old as civilization itself. Even Katheryn, who was, for one of the first times so far from his mind, had not shared the same lethal vitality...though he could not admit that, even to himself. And still, none of these things compared to Polly in that moment.
As lightening seared the sky and illuminated the corridor, the vampire finally made his appearance. He was wounded, and if Ruger had to wager, he was vitally so. The creature's head snapped in Ruger's direction, no doubt scenting the flow that was still seeping lazily from his open wounds. That slow and easy half-smirk graced his lips as he looked past the leech, a barely discernible nod being given Polly's way.
It was show time.
There were rare times, however, when the hunter became the hunted. Those times were rare, but nature was nothing if not fair in terms of the food chain. Later, Ruger would blame what happened next on the storm, on his own eagerness to make a kill...and to the ties of fate. There would have been no way he could have ever foreseen the events to follow, would never have guessed in his wildest dreams that he would come face to face with the very face that haunted his nightmares. In a world so big, no one could have expected such a meeting in a town so small.
The wall virtually exploded to Ruger's right, plaster and wood flying every which way. Though his reaction time was nearly infallible, the offending creature had the element of surprise to his advantage. Ruger was hit and drawn to the debris littered floor, a grunt escaping him on impact. His gun skidded just out of reach from the force of his landing, but it was far from his mind as instinct kicked in immediately. He was struggling before he was even able to draw a breath, aware of the horrifically pressing weight of the creature atop him.
Jarilo had known of Ruger's presence from the moment he had stepped into the abandoned building. He in fact, been biding his time. With his lineage, he had had little concern over the woman and her gadgets...after all, he was no normal blood sucking leech. If there was one thing the demi demon hated, it was being disturbed....and the young vampire had done just that. He would have likely killed him himself, if not for the gift the vampire had all but hand delivered to his front door. It was a fair trade then...his nemesis was worth a few broken stairs, after all.
Ruger's blue gaze locked on the face of his assailant, and widened briefly. "You!" He had never forgotten the features of the one who had made him loose everything...had never forgotten that cruel, eerie yellow gaze. An explosive snarl escaped him as recognition clicked into place, and all hell broke loose. Ruger's hand to hand skills were impeccable, and he had improved on them since the time of Kathryn's death. He struggled away from Jarilo's snapping jaws, knowing that keeping exposed flesh away from the poison of the creature's mouth was imperative. He managed to get a hold of the hilt of his knife, and plunged it to the creature's side in one swift movement.
Hot pain seared his flank as his prey buried his knife to the hilt in his flesh. Jarilo's cry of rage was inhuman and he ripped himself away from the offending blade with force. He could feel the burn of the garlic as it began to seep into his system...but it was not enough to stop him. The typical vampire weapons did not phase him nearly as much, and it would take more than something so simple to deter him. Ruger had managed to skirt away, his hands closing on the stock of his shotgun. Jarilo threw himself into the male again, driving him into the wall with enough force to cause the studs within to groan threateningly. He smiled wickedly at the human, his cruel yellow gaze amused. "You sure pick the tasty ones." He hissed, indicating he had noticed the perfume of Polly's blood in the air. "I'm only sorry you won't be alive to see me devour this one." His jaws were closing in on Ruger's neck even as he uttered the finality of his words.
Ruger was stunned from the blow, struggling to bring breath into his lungs even as Jarilo closed in on him again. He was aware he was bleeding...a gash had been opened right at the hairline of his forehead, blanketing half of his face in the thick coppery substance vampires loved so much. His bloody fingers closed around the shotgun as Jarilo hissed, the rage on his face stark and naked as he pushed his strength to the limit to pull the shotgun's barrel flush against the same wounded side of the creature. The threat to Polly had him going back in time, to the moment when he had failed Kathryn. It drove him to a feral state, one that would only be deterred by death itself. "You don't fucking touch her!" Ruger snarled through his panted breaths. "Your beef's with me, right here, right now. Ain't got a thing to do with her." His tacky fingers found purchase on the trigger. He gave the creature a brief and cold grin. "Go to hell, mother fucker." He growled as he depressed the trigger. The force of the explosion was enough to make his ears ring deafeningly, but it also drove Jarilo back with a shriek. A wide and gaping hole had been ripped open in the demon, and a thick, inky black substance was leaking profusely from it. Ruger chambered another shell and leveled the gun once more, vaguely aware of a canine shape streaking across the corridor towards Polly. Apparently Blue had found his way up after all.
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Our side of the barbed wire
Money grows in rows
If it don't you're goin' broke
So we
We hang out by the bonfire
Just the good ol' boys having a dang good time
We crank it up down here
We get loud down her
Throwin' down in the dirty, dirty south down here
Be an all nighter with the hippies and the hicks
Jocks and bikers, they all came to kick it in the
sticks
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