Huh, I guess Michael has had the fire powers for a while? But this was back when there was ~magic~ that you had to speak fucking Latin to cast. God I am an embarrassing human being.
Anyway, this was from the 2011-2012 version of the story I think? If I remember correctly Hunters weren't a like, tribe or faction or whatever in this and instead were closer to what they are now, except still kinda mindless zombie things in Fallout power armor?
Man I have had like no original ideas ever.
Michael’s left arm was useless, his elbow and forearm had been shattered. He shook away the grey that crept into his vision from the blood loss. The Hunter stood, its hands ready to defend, waiting for him to make a move.
Michael moved the fingers of his right hand in a small circle, “Ignis.” Flames appeared in his hand, flashing from bright orange to white. The air around the two heated up, becoming thinner as the fire consumed more and more oxygen.
The man knew that the Hunter’s armour would protect him from any blast he could throw at this point, he didn’t have long before his adrenaline wore off and he passed out. He threw the fireball at the behemoth, it struck its chest, where its collar bone would be, the metal turned black, some of it liquefying for a moment, leaving a dent.
He cursed his broken arm as his opponent took two lumbering steps toward him. “Ignis!” Michael swept his arm outward this time, sending a crescent of flame outward.
The Hunter was completely unphased, Michael took a few steps backward, looking around, trying to find something to use against it.
The moment he looked away the thing charged. A metal shoulder crashed into him, fracturing his jaw, collar bone and two ribs. Before he hit the ground a metal and leather fist slammed into his already abused chest, breaking the fractures completely. Michael screamed as he slammed into the soft, wet dirt.
The iron soldier lifted him by his tattered shirt and threw him back down, Michael’s head rapped against a rock, sending stars into his blackening vision.
The beast stood over him, a low rumble coming from its throat; it was laughing at him. He could feel the blood slowly replace the air in his lung as he coughed, the rest of his body going numb from shock.
It squatted down, he could feel it looking him over, finding which point to attack next, where it would cause the most pain. Its hand shot out, latching onto his shattered arm. A jolt of pain lanced through Michael, bringing him back to consciousness. He screamed as it lifted him off the ground, squeezing the shattered limb.
There was a loud crack as his vision went black, his final thought wondering if Abbie escaped.
The Hunter stood for a moment, the target’s body hanging lifelessly in its hands. This thing had given it trouble, it didn’t want the man to die, not yet. There were so many things it wanted to do before he could die. It tossed the man’s body away, it landed in the marsh with a soft, wet sound.
A bullet ricocheted from its back, just below the seam of its neck, a second later another just above, on the back of its helmet. It spun around to find the shooter. Just as it did a third bullet, this one much larger than the previous two, struck its faceplate.
The fifty caliber round tore through the metal, shredding the respirator, and tearing off a large portion of the Hunter’s cheek. It howled in pain, something it had not felt since the day it was sealed in its armour.
Two more shots rang out, one destroying its right shoulder plate, the other striking the softened metal on its breastplate. The bullet tore through the three inch thick cast iron, splintering as it did. The metal fragments tore through the behemoth’s organs, shredding its lungs and heart.