While In America, We Travel Through A Fairy Tale World Together!
Chapter 13 - And the Show Begins!

Chapter 13: And the Show Begins!

Little Red Riding Hood?

Rhodes’ expression cracked the moment he heard that name. He stared blankly at the black-stockinged, long-legged 36D bombshell in front of him.

You’re telling me this is Little Red Riding Hood?

He couldn’t see what was “little” about her.

“Wait a minute, my brain’s a bit fried right now,” Rhodes muttered, rubbing his temples.

An ailing grandmother in the woods, a mature and curvaceous Red Riding Hood with dangerous werewolves lurking around… Wait… what about the hunter?

If he wasn’t mistaken, that must be referring to the village chief.

So… this was a fairy tale world?

That was one hell of a joke. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it yet.

What was going on? One minute I’m in a dark fantasy setting, and now suddenly it’s a children’s story?

Man-eating werewolves. Little Red Riding Hood. Scheming hunters.

Is this a fairy tale? Seems more like an adult fairy tale.

Something felt off. Very off. Rhodes instinctively ran his fingers over the revolver at his waist. His expression settled back into cold composure.

For now, he was the one holding the upper hand. Who cared whether it was werewolves or Grandma Wolf? Under the barrel of a shotgun, all are equal. If one shot didn’t do the job, then fire another. Two in the chest, one in the head. Even a god would shake their head and back off.

After calming down, Rhodes glanced over the adult Red Riding Hood.

“Let’s go. We don’t have much time,” he said.

He looked at the dark forest ahead and muttered under his breath, “Got some real work to take care of tonight.”

The real work, of course, referred to hunting down the werewolves hiding in the forest. Most werewolves were nocturnal. Finding them during the day was a pain, but once night fell, the ones lurking near the village would come out on their own. At that point, his job was simple: just hunt them down, one by one.

Checking the ammo in his storage space, Rhodes let out a sigh of relief at how thoroughly he had prepared. Three full crates of shotgun shells that cost him a good chunk of dollars. The forest might be swarming with werewolves, but even at most, there were only a few dozen. With his ammo reserves, he could afford to waste ten rounds on each one and still have plenty left.

“You’re such a kind big brother, I don’t even know how to thank you!”

Red Riding Hood beamed at him gratefully and started leading the way out of the village.

Thank me?

Rhodes’ eyes lingered on her alluring figure.

Wasn’t this thanks enough?

There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Truly selfless people might exist, but he definitely wasn’t one of them.

As they walked along the forest path, the thick canopy above cooled the last of the day’s heat. Rhodes followed behind Red Riding Hood, heading toward her so-called grandmother’s house. The familiar route confirmed his suspicions. Her “grandmother” was the same old lady he’d encountered last night.

“Quite the coincidence, huh.”

Feeling the watchful gazes around him, Rhodes caught them from the corner of his eye and smirked. Twenty minutes later, a wooden cabin came into view.

“We’re here! That’s my grandma’s house right ahead!”

Red Riding Hood cheerfully pointed at the cabin. Her carefree demeanor made Rhodes hesitate for a moment.

Could such a naïve and innocent-seeming girl really be connected to the werewolves?

Rhodes shook his head. The time, the place; there was no way this was a coincidence. At most, the only question was, was she aware of what was going on?

As they reached the cabin, Red Riding Hood eagerly ran up and knocked on the door.

“Grandma! It’s me, Red Riding Hood! Are you home?”

“Oh, it’s Red Riding Hood. The door’s open, come on in,” came a low voice from inside.

Red Riding Hood didn’t think twice and pushed the door open. Rhodes, on the other hand, frowned.

That voice… didn’t sound like the old woman from last night. Something’s off.

His instincts were on alert as he stepped cautiously inside behind her. The cabin was small. A large bed stood in the corner, covered in a thick quilt that clearly hid a human-shaped lump underneath.

“Grandma, how are you feeling?” Red Riding Hood placed a basket of fruit on the table and walked to the bed with concern.

“I feel much better now that you’re here. Did you bring a friend along too?” came the muffled voice from under the covers.

“Yeah! He’s a kind big brother who was worried about me walking in the forest alone, so he came with me to see you!” Red Riding Hood beamed as she explained.

“What a thoughtful young man. Bring him closer so Grandma can get a good look,” the voice replied, a bit too eagerly this time.

Red Riding Hood turned, eyes bright with anticipation. “Come on!”

“Of course,” Rhodes smiled faintly. “But make sure Grandma gets a really good look.”

“Ah… so fragrant…”

The voice under the quilt faltered, as if struggling to suppress something. As Rhodes stepped closer, that muffled tone finally cracked, turning raspy and bestial.

“Ah… you smell so good! I can’t hold it anymore!”

Rip!

Razor-sharp claws tore through the quilt, and a werewolf in pajamas burst out from beneath the covers. Drool dripped from its fangs. Its eyes were blind with hunger.

But what greeted it were two cold, dark shotgun barrels.

“Your stench of blood and wolf musk. I could smell you a mile away,” Rhodes said, eyes narrowed, expression flat.

Bang! Bang!

Two quick blasts tore into the werewolf’s chest, flinging it across the room into the wall.

Click-clack!

Without missing a beat, Rhodes reloaded with practiced ease and fired again.

Bang! Bang!

One shot to the chest. One to the head. The hail of buckshot shredded both the werewolf and the fragile wooden cabin.