Detective Wolf and the Flatwoods Fighter

Wolf felt his muscles relax, as he focused, He had one shot, but it was all he needed, All the fear and anxiety at the chance of failure vanished from his mind the instant he made the decision. All distractions from the rushing water, burning wind that ripped past, and debris that sprayed at him as the yacht broke land. He had only a fraction of a second to react. It was all he needed. Time seemed to slow as the spear launched from the shaft of the speargun. It caught the sun just right. It was make for a damn good cover for an album centered around classical literature like moby dick. The spear jetted through the front window, and Wolf could barely make out the sound of someone cursing, as the yacht swerved to the right drastically. A bloodcurdling scream shot through the air like the spear he just fired.

It was a scream not just of pain, but of anger at failure. A scream Wolf very much hoped he would never hear coming from himself. The yacht slammed into a boulder, sending it into the air for about a second as it split apart. A stray piece of metal was sent hurtling for him. Luckily, Wolf was able to block the metal with the speargun, denting it in the process. He laid down the speargun and breathed heavily. This day had been mighty stressful. He watched as part of the fractured yacht sunk to the bog. He couldn't help but notice that the culprit was not on it. He could faintly make out tracks on the other side of the bog. First, this was an investigation, then it was a fight for a survival. Now, it was the end. One way or another, that culprit would be delivered back to the world of man, and out of the hellish bog. It would either be from a bodybag, or court case, but Wolf was certain. The killer he knew, also was aware of this. "In a game of cops and robbers, the cop always wins" he grunted to himself as he stood up.