This is probably the shortest opening I have even written for a fanfic, and I'm unsure why it turned out that way. It had nothing to do with my upcoming move, which is almost completed and going quite smoothly. I guess sometimes length is not as important as what is said, and this opening part is a cliffhanger (with some lovely whump--gotta have the whump), so maybe it works. You tell me.
Hunted Part One
Rated: R
“This is the last time, MacGyver. This is the last time you deceive and betray me.”
A group of men stood over him, menacing silhouettes in the darkness. He lay there on the rickety pier, groaning in agony after they delivered him a savage beating, feeling his sore left eye swelling shut, sticky blood caking on his face. His entire body hurt from their powerful blows and kicks, and he could barely move or think without waves of excruciating, stabbing pain overwhelming and preoccupying him, drawing in sharp, wheezing breaths from where it felt as if they had cracked his ribs. He grew dizzy and nauseated, battling to remain conscious. In the distance through the haze of his mind he heard sounds of the ocean--waves crashing towards the shore, boats cutting through the water and blowing their horns, seagulls shrieking overhead. The air was damp and chilly, a fine salty mist covering everything, the evening calm and peaceful. That peace was abruptly shattered when one of the men in the shadows, the man who had spoken to him earlier, pulled out a gun and without hesitation fired it at MacGyver, loud reverberations of the gunfire carrying through the night. The bullet struck him somewhere in the abdomen. He could feel it as it ripped into his flesh, his guts feeling as if they were on fire. He released another cry in pain, his battered, bruised hands instinctually reaching to touch the wound, feeling massive amounts of blood spilling out of it, the wound gaping, his life slowly draining from him as he grew weaker with each passing minute.
“Throw him in the water,” the leader said without emotion, putting away his gun.
Badly beaten, shot, and weakened by pain, MacGyver could do little to defend himself as he felt his body roll off the safe edge of the pier into the deep unknown of the water below, the salt of the ocean stinging his many cuts and his bullet wound. The discomfort was momentary as he shifted his mind to the urgency of the situation, fighting despite his gunshot wound, the blood loss, and the pain to remain on the surface, feebly treading water, using all his remaining energy reserves but finding them inadequate, slowly going into shock. It felt as if the ocean was dragging him, pulling him downward, and he could no longer do anything to resist it. Soon, the water enveloped him into its murky blackness, and he slowly sank, losing consciousness…
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
can't wait to read more and good luck with the rest of yur move!! 
