The Four Horsemen - Stormy Leigh

Chapter One

Homicide

“Hey, Homicide, we going hunting for the man-eating grizzly today?” Blade cocks his head back and hollers from his black leather gaming chair. His blonde hair is sticking up, and he looks as if he hasn’t shaved in three days. He’s only wearing grey sweatpants while he’s hunkered under a blue fleece blanket. From the looks of the snack-pile around him, he’s been up all night. Again.

I look up from my steaming mug of coffee as I study him, wondering how the fuck he’s going to be useful today after no sleep. “Planning on it. I need to kill something, and since this griz is going after people, he needs to be put down. You going to be any help after being up all night?”

“I’ll be fine. I took a nap yesterday,” he says with a cocky smirk then grabs a handful of chips and shoves them in his mouth. I watch with disdain as crumbs fall down the front of him and onto the floor. I hear Roadblock curse after a loud thump then watch him enter the kitchen, looking all groggy with a scowl on his face, hair sticking up in every direction as he shuffles over to the coffee pot. "You up for helping me hunt down that grizzly today, Roadblock?" he grunts at me, and I take it as a yes.

“You seen Checkmate yet?” I ask our night owl, Blade.

“Nah, man. He went to the bar, never came home. Probably still between some chick’s legs from last night,” he replies while shaking his head.

“How he finds pussy in this small-ass town all the damn time I'll never understand." I sigh and shake my head.

“I think he went to Whitefish last night. Said he needed to find some new women,” Blade says, staring intently at his video game. “You shot me, mother fucker!” he yells as he whips the gaming controller across the room. “Son of a bitch!” he curses and scowls at the TV.

“Well then, maybe since you died, you should go shower and get geared up so you can be ready on time. If you’re not ready by 0800, I'm leaving your ass behind." I chug down the last of my coffee and set the cup in the sink. As I’m on my way out of the kitchen, Roadblock gives me a chin lift so I know he’s in.

“Pack light. Kill Heavy. Oorah,” Blade says dryly while he stretches and rolls his neck.

“Oorah," I say to him and bump his shoulder as I pass him in the living room, making my way toward my room.

Oorah," Roadblock growls out, sounding more like a grizzly bear than a man. Hell, he’s big enough to be one. He’s our not-so-friendly giant.

“You need to get laid, dude. You’ve been one grumpy-ass mother trucker lately,” Blade says then ducks when he sees Roadblock’s huge fist coming toward his face.

“Yeah, mother fucker, you’re bigger, but I’m faster,” Blade taunts him and smacks his ass then takes off running to his room. “Ha-ha-ha, mother fucker, can’t catch me.” I glance over my shoulder to see Blade’s doing his famous leprechaun dance in the hallway entrance. He’s gonna get his ass beat by a giant here soon if he keeps up his taunting.

“Haven't you ever heard don’t poke the bear, Blade? You might live longer.” I smirk at him. “I don't think he can get laid. He scares the women away he's so fucking cold and emotionless. Maybe we can hire an escort," I say with a raised brow, grinning at Blade, knowing full well I’m now poking the bear. Roadblock just glares at us as he bulldozes Blade out of the way, and he grunts as he’s slammed against the wall.

“Fuck, man! That hurt, you fucking giant” Blade whines as he rubs his shoulder then looks at me. “And where the fuck are we gonna find an escort service in the middle of Timbuktu?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, but get your lazy ass in gear. We gotta beast to track.”

An hour and a half later, we're armed to the teeth, dressed in our black BDUs, walking through a field of an old friend of my uncles who called to tell me while we were pulling out of the driveway the grizzly bear was ripping his front door to shreds, trying to get in to his food or him, not even twenty minutes ago. This bear has been a nuisance, chasing people down, going after livestock, busting out windows in people's homes. He