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Man's Best Friend.

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Hiding had been a talent he had picked up quickly, as was common sense in regards to running and hiding or to stay and fight. This was one of those times where hiding was his only option and to stay out of sight and out of mind, his ultimate goal to stay a good few steps ahead of the people who hunted him. He has been marked and been followed for the past three weeks, a target drawn on his back to be extinguished ands every trace of his existence wiped from the face of the earth. At least that was the plan until he evaded several ambushes and captures from the people who wanted him preferably dead than alive. A dead man couldn't speak and therefore give information to anyone about the program he had been a part of and the news of strange deaths all over the world reaches his ears and Aaron Cross knew they were killing off the candidates, leaving no trace of anyone who could incriminate the powers that once controlled them like dogs on leash. He simply wanted to be free, to live without having to look over his shoulder and to have some normality in his life that had been taken away from him. Aaron doubts whether that is even possible, it's either run and hide or die.


He winces as the dull ache in his upper-arm intensifies as he removes the blood soaked rag he had tied around the wound, feeling fresh new blood at his fingertips. He had been shot at and the bullet had penetrated his arm, sinking deeper into his flesh and becoming infected as time moved quicker than he thought was possible. Aaron looks down into the small military style food can that is sitting on the edge of the small fire, the water bubbling away and purifying. He rummages through his backpack for new cloth and soaks it in the hot water, feeling his blood trickle down his arm as he checks how hot the knife is in the edge of the fire. He needs to remove the bullet and he needs to stop the bleeding, fast. If he doesn't it will get infected and the poison would travel into his blood and circulate, killing him slowly. He wasn't going to let blood poisoning kill him when he had escaped and cheated death so many times before.

Aaron washes the wound carefully and located the bullet, satisfied that it isn't lodged in the bone as he pulls it out with a groan, grimacing at the burning feeling in his shoulder. He then takes the hilt of the knife that is glowing bright red from the fire and pushes it into the wound, his skin sizzling as he cauterises the bleeding. The smell is simply attroticous of burning flesh and it's so pungent it makes him gag as he wraps a second piece of cloth around it to keep it clean and let the wound heal. Aaron looks down at the bloody bullet in the palm of his hand and he knows how lucky he was that he turned a second too early and not a second too late. He could have died and then it would have been game over, the end.
His stomach rumbles with hunger as he roots around in his pack for the few canned food items he had left from his last stop anywhere near civilization. He still has the military ration packs from the soldier's he had killed four days ago, but the modified ration packs were a last resort because they had been designed for soldier's abroad, very little in them to eat but held all kinds of nutrients and supplements. Aaron makes the decision to open the can of pressed meat and to keep whatever he has left for the next few days, figuring he will find somewhere to buy more cans so he can keep the military rations for a real emergency. He never does know when he will find his next meal or shelter or if he will even make it at all until then. He just goes on hoping and praying.

Sweat runs down his back in a river over his skin as he hikes further and further along the barren wilderness of Mexico. He has no idea where he is exactly and knows just to keep going, keep pushing forward. He stops and takes a small sip from his canteen and wipes the sweat out of his eyes, his face weather beaten and ruddy from days in the sun and heat. His mouth is patched for cool water, his head spinning as he continues his hike over large boukders. He hasn't seen anyone or even shelter for miles and he wonders if he will suddenly drop down dead of heatstroke and he argues that at least he wouldn't be thirsty. Aaron presses on and stops at the top of a cluster of rocks, scanning the distance through his binoculars for some idea to send him in the right direction. Faintly in the distance, he sees a shell of a stone shack and his heart races. He wonders who lives there if anyone as he goes in that direction, praying harder and harder with every step he takes towards it. As he gets closer, he realises that it's a village. He wonders if he will be welcomed or shunned by the natives.