Lying in wait among the tall grasses in the middle of an open field, Adler crouched low. He cursed softly under his breath as another fly buzzed in his ear, attracted to the sweat rolling in rivulets down his toned body. He had been crouched there for at least three hours. Adler breathed deeply without disturbing a single blade of grass, knowing that any motion made on his part would alert the tracker to his position. Again, he silently cursed, but he knew better than to let his situation push him to move too early. He was a pro after all. He had maintained the same position for over three hours, yet he still felt the Hunter’s eyes on him, searching for his exact location to make the kill.
They were in at an impasse, neither willing to make the first move; however, Adler had not been sitting idle waiting for the ax to fall. He moved his finger infinitesimally, setting off a trap laid long ago for just this moment. A hundred yards to the northwest, several blades of grass moved subtly, yet definitely in the field. An instant later, three arrows sprouted from the ground. Adler mentally took note as he sprinted in the direction of the hunter. The angle of the arrows had told him exactly what he wanted to know. It wasn’t good news.
He had misjudged the distance between them. Completely perfect for the Hunter’s long range attacks. He hated long range fighters. Adler could feel the Hunter’s eyes trained on his rapid and sporadic movement. At the moment the hunter cocked his next arrow Adler was still out in the open, an easy target. Adler’s eyes widened, processing every motion in his line of vision, taking in the weapon shooting towards him. He crouched and dove to the right, the arrow nicking his left arm. No matter. He was safer now in the cover of the trees. Adler loped in a wide circle, keeping the Hunter’s frustrated presence always to his right. Coming up right behind him would be foolish and deadly. Adler checked every movement, making each precise and clean. His enemy would try to get the highest vantage point in the trees closest to the open field to pick off his prey from above. What an amateur.
Adler was so close he could actually see his enemy in surprising detail. Tan, thick build with bulging arms. He had several arrows still in his arsenal. Not that it mattered. Adler was too close for him to use it again and the Hunter’s attention focused solely on the open field, feverishly searching for the prey no longer there. Another stupid and costly mistake. Adler weighed his own weapon in his hand, the only one he was allowed. He thought it rather crude, but he didn’t make the rules. His enemy’s dark skin stood out in the muted green surroundings, a living beacon directing his perfect aim. Adler always won. This Game was no different. Adler reached down into his worn sneakers for the pebble that had chaffed his heel for the last five hours. He had only one shot, but that was all he needed. Placing the pebble just so in his slingshot, Adler slowly pulled the thick rubber back and released. It shot through the woods and hit the Hunter square on the temple. With a loud grunt, the hunter fell from his perch and lay still. Adler stepped out cautiously from his position. It wouldn’t be the first time that a hunter was faking. Once sure of his enemy’s unconscious state, Adler slowly made his way to the Hunter and bent down to reach for his ankle band. The moment his hand touched it, a familiar voice boomed out across the field.

Congratulations Prey. You keep your life for one more day. Please return to the Pen. You have five minutes before your collar detonates.

Adler heaved a sigh and rolled his shoulders. He spared another glance at the fallen Hunter and began to sprint back. He was at least seven minutes away from the Pen and the Owners knew it. They always cut the return time close, as if the victors didn’t have enough on their minds. Another day down and payment received for surviving a Game. All of it went to the ultimate goal: freedom. He knew exactly how much he still had to pay to gain it. In the end, if they didn’t keep their word, he had a trap for that, too. Adler squared his shoulders and set his sights on the Pen’s looming gates. He wouldn’t let his situation push him to move too early. He was a pro after all.