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Luke and Laurie took off in a dead sprint.
His enhanced body kept his breathing steady even at full speed. He pulled ahead of Clarice, who had the full FBI training package.
They whipped around a corner stacked with trash cans and Luke nearly plowed straight into the bounty hunters. The sa guys from earlier—now crawling on hands and knees, faces white with terror.
"Officer, help us! That thing won't die no matter how many tis we shoot him!"
One of them spotted Luke like he was the Second Coming and jabbed a shaking finger behind him.
Luke gave their guns a quick once-over—cheap little revolvers and pistols, exactly what regular Miami citizens could legally buy. Anything bigger required a stack of paperwork most of these guys couldn't spell, let alone fill out.
He already knew from the prison ruins that Myers shrugged off normal bullets like rain. And sothing told him Myers was even tougher than Gein. No surprise here.
He waved them aside without slowing down.
"You sure about this, Officer? Want us to back you up?"
The hundred-grand bounty lit a fire in their eyes again. Fear lost to greed real quick.
"If you're not scared of dying, co on then."
Luke didn't even look back. The n glanced at each other, swore under their breath, and fell in behind him. A cop out front made the odds feel slightly less suicidal.
Luke figured more guns never hurt. Enough ants could still bring down an elephant if they coordinated.
Clarice caught up a second later, breathing hard, sweat shining on her forehead, but her shooting hand stayed rock-steady. She clocked the extra bodies and raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet.
They pushed into the narrow gap where Myers had vanished.
It was a tight alley squeezed between old apartnt buildings—fire escapes and rusty pipes overhead, busted furniture and mountains of trash bags underfoot. Shadows everywhere. A perfect hunting ground built just for him.
"Officer, my buddy got stabbed right here and then he just… disappeared."
The tall skinny guy pointed at a dark recess, voice still shaking.
Everyone gripped their guns tighter and stared at every overlapping shadow. Myers had to be in one of them.
Luke said nothing. He raised the shotgun, flicked off the safety, and blasted the exact spot the tall guy had pointed.
Boom!
The shot echoed hard. Trash exploded into the air. No Myers.
Everyone froze, stunned by the sudden blast.
Luke just grinned, reloaded smooth as butter, and shouted into the darkness ahead.
"Myers! Where the hell are you? I'm coming for you!"
It clicked for the whole group at once.
Yeah. Blast every hiding spot until there were none left. See how he liked that.
Their courage ca roaring back.
Luke kept firing. One shadow after another got shredded. Finally Myers broke.
While Luke blasted another corner, Myers exploded out from the opposite side, charging straight at them.
Bang! Bang!
Clarice reacted first. She'd been watching the zones outside Luke's line of fire the whole ti—pure FBI habit. Two clean shots slamd into Myers' thigh and staggered him.
Now!
Luke swung the barrel and unloaded the shotgun into the sa leg.
The pellets tore through at and bone with way more authority than any pistol round. Myers' leg turned into a bloody ruin, white bone flashing through the gore. He crashed down hard.
But the next second, to everyone's horror, he planted one hand on the ground, dragged his ruined leg, and shoved himself upright again. He lurched forward, still coming.
"Don't stop! Keep hitting his legs!"
Luke's roar snapped everyone back into action. They poured fire into Myers' legs until both were chewed to pieces. He dropped to his knees, limp.
Luke stayed locked in. He had the group form a tight circle around the downed killer.
"Take out his arms!"
Another volley ripped through Myers' arms.
Now he lay there like a broken rag doll, twitching helplessly. Any normal person would've bled out and passed out. But his wounds barely bled at all. He just writhed, those eyes behind the mask locked on them with pure hate.
The sight made every hair on their necks stand up.
Thud!
Luke glanced over. The tall guy had dropped his gun, shaking like he was about to puke.
"He's a demon… he's a fucking demon."
The word hit Luke like a spark.
Demon?
It reminded him of the fancy Bible Hannibal had sent—and the Holy Recitation skill that ca with it.
Perfect ti to test it.
He slung the shotgun and pulled the blessed Bible from inside his jacket.
Clarice stared, eyebrows climbing.
"Luke, you gonna purify him? I didn't know you were a priest."
Luke shot her a sideways look.
"What priest? I'm just exorcising a demon."
Clarice's eyes went wide. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
"You're not even a priest? Unlicensed exorcism?"
Luke couldn't help laughing.
"Is the FBI really that nosy? If there's a real demon here, do I gotta call the Vatican first and file paperwork?"
Clarice snorted.
"Just kidding. If the Church cos knocking, tell 'em the FBI did it."
Luke turned back to Myers, flipped open the Bible, and started reading from page one.
After a while his mouth went dry, but Myers on the ground just twisted harder—nothing else happened.
"What the hell?"
Clarice leaned in, studied the page, and shook her head.
"Luke, I think you're reading the wrong part. I've never seen an exorcism, but it can't be these feel-good stories."
She flipped ahead a few pages and pointed.
"Right here. The part where God gets pissed and rips into sinners. Try that."
Luke nodded.
"Makes sense."
He started reciting the passage full of judgnt and holy wrath.
The mont the words left his mouth, Myers on the ground finally reacted.
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