Baba Yaga's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

John walks south from The Continental, counting the seconds between streetlights. The bounty went live hours ago, which means every contractor in the city knows exactly where he is. Ms. Perkins wants him exposed, wants him moving through streets where anyone with a contract can take their shot. The wrecked Mustang sits in the middle of an intersection four blocks down, black paint scorched and twisted metal catching the orange glow of sodium lights. The car wasn't there two hours ago. Someone positioned it deliberately, blocking the only route south that doesn't cross open ground. John approaches from the east side, keeping to the building line. Glass crunches under his boots. The driver's door hangs open, the interior gutted by fire. A single bullet rests on the dashboard, brass catching the light. He picks it up and reads the etching: John. Ms. Perkins didn't just author the bounty. She's stage-managing his execution. Movement registers in his peripheral vision—a woman in a tan coat adjusting her position on a fire escape two buildings back, a man in gray stepping into a doorway across the street, another figure watching from a rooftop access door. They're not hiding anymore. The Mustang is a marker, a public announcement that this intersection belongs to the contract now. John counts six contractors in visual range, maybe more in the buildings. They're waiting for Ms. Perkins to take the shot, to claim the kill she authored. John slides the etched bullet into his pocket and walks straight toward the car, into the open intersection where every angle converges. The first suppressed shot cracks the asphalt three feet to his left. Not Ms. Perkins—wrong caliber, wrong timing. One of the others broke discipline, couldn't wait for her claim. John moves behind the Mustang's engine block as two more rounds punch through the rear quarter panel. The gathered contractors don't scatter. They step forward, weapons drawn, circling the intersection now that someone fired first. Ms. Perkins wanted him isolated and exposed, but she made a mistake. She brought too many hunters, and they're not patient enough to let her finish what she started. John draws his weapon and puts two rounds through the nearest contractor's center mass, then moves toward the buildings as return fire shreds what's left of the Mustang. She wanted to control how he died. He just turned her execution into a free-for-all.