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Story Notes:
I've read a good handful of stories where a bad guy goes after Shawn for revenge because of something his dad - or, sometimes, his mom - has done in the past. But when I was watching the season 5 episode "True Grits," it occurred to me that I haven't really seen any where someone from one of Shawn's own past cases comes back for revenge. I mean, Thane even says in the episode that there's a whole line of guys in prison who are planning to come after Shawn when they get out. And so I found myself wondering which unsavory characters might hate Shawn the most... I came up with two really good ones (and I've got a great Shawn and Lassie teamwork story planned with one of those characters). This story, of course, is about the bounty hunter, Byrd Tatums, that Shawn got arrested in season 2. So, obviously, there will be spoilers for that episode. This story takes place 5 years later, during season 7, so Jules is in San Fran. She will make an appearance later on, though.

I will go ahead and warn that there will be graphic violence in this story as well as spoilers. It's rated T for now, but if needed, I'll change it to M.

I'm working on this at the same time as I'm doing "Five Nights at Spencer's," so I'll try to stagger the updates. I'm super excited about this one, so please let me know what you think! :)

Oh, and there's a bit of language, but nothing too bad.

Oh, and another reason I wanted Byrd to be the bad guy - I adore Kevin Sorbo, who played him. :) He's one of my favorite actors (and people in general), so I thought this would be a really fun one to write!

Please review!
Author's Chapter Notes:
This prologue is just a little snippet of what is to come. I wanted to start out with a look into Byrd's mind, as well as a basic rundown of what happened in "Bounty Hunters." I'll be posting more very soon!

Please review!
Byrd Tatums was a simple man, despite appearances. People assumed that bounty hunters were complex characters with jaded pasts, axes to grind, and an insatiable thirst for more. Of the three, Byrd had, ever since he began his career, only claimed one of these stereotypes as his own. And anyway, he’d reasoned, bounty hunters aren’t the only people who had a taste for a hefty reward. Investors always wanted more. Drug dealers, businessmen, doctors, lawyers… those damn Girl Scouts with their endless boxes of cookies… So really, his – for lack of a better term – greed was not exclusive to him, or to people like him. It was a widespread sickness, one that Americans reveled in shamelessly.

But revenge? A chip on his shoulder? Daddy issues? Animosity for the law, or for those who break it? Byrd had never ascribed to such paltry motivations. He’d tangled with tons of parasitic scumbags – on both sides of the law – but none had ever angered him to the point that they made any lasting impression on his life or his identity. He hated people in general, and that generous distaste worked in his favor so that his mind was never clouded with negativity toward one person in particular. Single-minded hatred was a path down a track that almost always led to self-destruction. As far as daddy issues went, he’d never met his, and for that he was glad, because he’d probably have disliked him, too.

No, Byrd was in the bounty hunting business for two reasons – first, of course, the profit, and secondly, the excitement. Personal feelings weren’t allowed in his field of work, not if he wanted to succeed.

Or at least they hadn’t been, until he’d come up against a so-called psychic detective named Shawn Spencer.

Since he was sixteen years old, Byrd had been running down and delivering people – more or less in once piece – to all kinds of clients. Sure, he’d had a few minor run-ins with the law, and a rivalry here and there, but he’d never, ever been in danger of being put on the other side of the bars. Of course, he’d never had someone get under his skin like Spencer had, either. From the very first moment that idiot had opened his mouth, Byrd had hated him. And not with that same, apathetic distaste he had for every member of the human race. No, Spencer had accomplished something no one else had ever been able to do – he had rattled the Byrd’s cage so much that he’d gotten sloppy and let his emotions take over. Not thinking clearly, the bounty hunter had allowed the psychic to goad him into an exchange right in front of the damned police station, and had pissed him off so much that he’d pulled a gun on the man… and subsequently been arrested.

Because of Spencer, Byrd had spent the past five years serving time for attempted murder, illegally carrying a weapon on police grounds, and a handful of other charges that they’d’ve never been able to stick to him if he hadn’t been caught in the first place. Misdemeanors, little felonies he’d committed during his time racing against the law.

Because of Spencer, Byrd had lost five years of his life, his reputation, his dignity, and the impressive amount of self-control he’d gained over the years.

And now Byrd had finally given in to everything he’d been fighting against. Rage, hatred, that chip on his shoulder – Spencer had brought all that out, and Byrd was sick and tired of fighting it. Over the past five years, the bounty hunter had learned to embrace the anger and channel it into the only solace he found during his short – but devastating – incarceration. Imagining the look on that bastard’s face when he was hunted down and at Byrd’s mercy.

Byrd had never realized how sweet the concept of revenge tasted before – and now, like a wrathful Pavlov’s dog, he was salivating at the mere thought of what was to come.




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