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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

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The Hunter
By Javagrl

 


I could see my breath in the frigid night air. Darkness concealed my form. I was tense, staring at the door. Waiting for something that probably would not come was a little frustrating. I looked down to the gun in my hand and pushed my eyebrows together. Perhaps I wouldn't need it tonight. Then what would happen? All this time, wasted. My fist tightened around the small pistol. Aggravation seemed to be taking over, and my apprehensive body was not responding well.

Suddenly, I heard a thump to my left. My head snapped in the direction it had come from and I peered into the dark with large, eagle-like eyes. Yes. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I stood and walked forward, keeping behind the side of the building as not to get caught. I stopped at the corner and cautiously peeked around, gun raised up next to my right cheek. The door was being burst open, one punch at a time. The thing trying to come out was big. Huge, maybe. Maybe if I was lucky.

A single bead of sweat trickled down my face, though I was not nervous. This was the moment I had been waiting for, and I was not going to blow it. No. Not again. I would not let my team down again. Things were working too perfect to blow it off now.

I slowly cocked the gun and raised it to eye level, holding it perfectly still. This was the reason I was chosen for this task: I was good at what I did. Really good, better than anyone else on the Force. I was confident and brave, and I was hell of a lot better with artillery.

At that moment, the door burst open, revealing two forms, a man and a woman. A smile tugged at my lips. They were definitely the ones. I lowered the gun, and walked out into the open, my pale skin gleaming in the bright moonlight. The couple didn't seem surprised; I wasn't expecting them to be. I was here on a mission. Information is all I needed, and I intended to get it before my darker side took over and shot the two down. That might not last too long.

“Evening.” I called, strutting to the chain-link fence that stood in our way. The man held a similar weapon, although it seemed more customary. I snickered silently. Customizations never worked.

The woman stepped forward, motioning for the man to stay back. Her streaky black hair glistened as she tossed it back over her shoulder. My own striking red hair was pulled back by a shiny black glove to reveal my dark gray eyes, piercing and vicious. She gave a short wave then stepped up to the fence.

“What are you doing here, Camille?” She asked in a silky tone, eyes glaring at me through the slim safety of the fence.

“I need something from you.” I replied, just as smoothly, and held up a small sack that clinked softly when I shook it.

“I'm listening,” she said hesitantly, eyeing me carefully. I smiled gently and continued.

“I only need information from you. I assure you, there's enough in this bag to get you through for half a year.” I shook it again, and I could see the lust for the gold in her eyes.

“Whatever you need to know, I'll tell.” She said, smirking. I began to ask, but she stopped me quickly.

“Pay first.” She said with a hand on her hip, the other one open, coveting the coins in my possession. Without looking up or hardly moving, I tossed it briefly over the fence. It landed square in her awaiting palm, and she opened it, examining the contents. Finally, she seemed satisfied and attached the sack to her belt. I remembered this; I would need this detail later.

“I need to know what the Trivit are planning.” Shock rose in her eyes temporarily, then was flattened by her strong will.

“I only say this because I've received pay. The Trivit are moving to the center of the city. A bomb will be placed there at the end of this week. Once it goes off, boom. No more city. Now I suppose that will be all for tonight?” She started backing away from the fence, and I held up the gun expectantly.

“Not entirely.” I replied. She searched her belt for her own gun, but could not find it. Finally, she yelled back to her henchman, but only heard a faint mumble in return. She flung her head back to see the man tied up with a gag in his mouth and a friend of mine with a foot on his shoulder.

The woman gasped and glared back at me. “This was a trap?” She asked bewilderedly and threw a quick look back to my friend. “Since when did you work with others, Camille? Changing without notification?” She stared back, this time down the barrel of my pistol. While she had her back turned I had leapt over the fence and landed silently in front of her. It was part of my gift, this ability.

“I never change.” I said plainly and pulled the trigger. The woman fell down to my boots, dead, a small hole in her forehead. I stepped over her carefully, my high-heeled boots clacking on the stone ground.

“That was a nice one, Camille.” The friend's voice said from behind me. I stared down at the body; her eyes were filled with frozen fear. She deserved to die, helping those who tried to kill others. It was sickening.

I stooped downward and grasped the little pouch I had given to her, then stood and turned. “Did you really think so? I didn't plan it out that way, but yes, I agree. It was a good one.” I mocked and picked up the henchman's gun. An MP5K sub-machine gun, with a couple customizations in the barrel and handgrip. Amateur. I tossed it lazily to the ground beside the bodies and glared at the henchman. He was staring at me fearfully, and I walked over to him. He began to squirm, but I caught hold of his arm. I picked a pin out of my hair and pressed it into the back of his neck; a quick and painless kill. I spun on my heel and began walking down the alley-way, my friend walking close behind me.

As we neared the hidden entrance to the Obeisant HQ, I paused to look back at my friend.

“Anna, what did you think of your first run out there?” I asked curiously, turning fully toward her. She shrugged.

“I'm not so sure I'd want to do it anymore…” She started, and I cackled, making her face grow pale.

“Sweetie, there is no turning back from the Obeisant Union. Once you get in, you either work for us, or you die. That's all there is to it.” I extended a slender hand to her, and she pulled back for a moment. Then she hesitantly reached out, taking a firm hold of my hand.

I smiled reassuringly. “You've made the right choice, Anna. Now let's go.” I pulled her hand gently to the nearby wall. “Now wait here while I get us inside.” I let go, then stalked to another fence. I leapt over the top, then knocked a brick at eye-level once. I stepped back, and the fence slowly rolled itself into the wall. The ground underneath me rotated, then pulled itself into the wall as well, but i neatly stepped onto the solid ground just before I was pulled into the wall as well. I gestured to the hole and calmly walked down the exposed steps. My friend glanced around silently, then followed me down the staircase.

“Did we really have to kill those people? Why couldn't we just put them in jail?” Anna asked innocently, but I did not even turn around. I just knew she was too kind a spirit to dig into the dirty work of the Obeisant Union. They needed real fighters, not cowards.

“If we put them in jail, they would escape without question. If we kill them, no one else can get the information we received tonight. It's that simple, Darling.” I said coolly and continued strutting down the pitch-black hallway. I had been down here many times, too many to count, and I knew every crack and corner by heart. I suddenly turned, and my friend obediently followed the loud clacking of my boots.

“But still, dying for information? That seems a bit harsh.” I heard the faint whisper. If the Trainer had heard these complaints, she would be on her knees. Headless.

“Harsh does not exist in this world, Anna. Neither does mercy.” I fell silent and let that statement sink in, then I heard a sigh.

“I wish I hadn't received the gift.” She said softly, and I halted. Soon, she ran into the back of me, but I just stood there, stunned. Everyone, absolutely everyone had wished to receive the gift; it was a dream-come-true. Yet this girl, this wimpling, was dreaming of days without it after only a couple days. I shook my head and continued walking.

“Get up and common.” I said with a frown without pausing for a moment. In fact, I had hurried my pace. I had an objection for the trainer to hear anyway.

I pulled open the heavy metal door roughly and let it swing close behind my friend. She had been silent the rest of the walk down the long weaving hall, for which I was thankful.

“Go to your quarters, alright?” I ordered and looked over my shoulder, my red hair swirling lazily around my figure. She lowered her head and walked down a separate hall.

“Yes ma'am. Good night.” She said, and I stared after her as she turned into a room, closing the door behind her. I sighed and went on walking down to the HQ's managerial section.

I finally stopped and gazed at the nametag on the door with weary eyes; I had been up all night and couldn't wait to get a good, long sleep under the power generator.

“Trainer, are you still in there?” I called and rapped on the door softly. A quiet mumble came from inside, and I slowly opened the entryway. Inside, the Trainer was sitting at his desk, shuffling through papers that surrounded him.

“Ah, Camille. Just the girl I was wanting to see.” He shifted his thick glasses on his whitish nose. He had no sun at all down here, and he was beginning to look like a ghost. “Come, sit. Would you like a cup of booze?” He motioned to the table in the far corner, upon which sat a wide brown bottle and two glass goblets. I pondered this for a moment, then walked over calmly and poured myself a third of the cup. Then I went over and sat down on the opposite side of the desk from the Trainer.

“I need to talk to you, Camille, about your partner.” He leaned over, setting the papers he had been holding on the desk. He peered at me through the spectacles on his face, his thinning white hair glinting dully in the lamplight and his fingers drumming the table. I lowered my eyes apologetically.

“I was actually here to talk to you about her too, Trainer. You see, I don't think she's the right material for the Obeisant Union.”

“I don't either.” He pulled out a file from inside his desk and tossed it onto the flat surface. I hesitantly picked it up and opened it, then examined its contents. Inside, there were the normal statistics and background information that all members acquired at registration. Yet I still couldn't find what was different.

“She's too young, Camille. She needs to retire until later.” He said monotonously, glaring at the folder in my hands. I looked up, shocked.

“I know she's too young, Trainer, but she owns the gift. We can't just let her go…”

“And why not?” The older man looked tiredly into my own eyes, and I slowly blinked.

“Well, she could go out and blab all about our hiding spot…”

“And she might not.”

“But I don't think she'd ever be ready…”

“I do.”

“Why are you sticking up for her? You already said you don't think she's right for our squad.” I said indignantly and closed the folder, setting it lightly on the table. I took a large sip of the alcohol, but could hardly swallow the bitter stuff. I set it down next to the folder, and the Trainer finally spoke up.

“Because I believe she will learn. And I don't want to kill a girl her age, not now or ever.” He sat back in his chair, leaning against the padded support.

“We have in the past, Trainer. Besides, Anna doesn't even want the gift. She told me today on our way back.” I crossed my legs and leaned forward, careful not to let the low swoop of my neckline to fall too far. The statement caught the Trainer's attention.

“She doesn't...” He said to himself, scratching his newly shaved chin. I shook my head solemnly and inspected the fresh cut on my right calf; I must've scraped it when I leapt the fence. I pulled my short pant leg down to cover it as not to bring sympathy from my Trainer.

“Well, I guess that can't be helped. But for now, we must relieve her of her position here at the Headquarters.” I looked down at my lap. Somehow I felt sorry for the girl, yet I knew it must be done.

“Is there anything else you want me to do, Trainer?” I asked, and he nodded.

“I need you to grab me some more booze. This stuff is crap.” He said and smiled. I could hardly keep myself from chuckling, so I smiled all the way to the door.

“Of course, Trainer. I'll see you tomorrow night, same time as always.” I said and pulled the door shut behind me gently. I marched down the hall, swaying slightly with sudden fatigue. Coming upon the door to the basement hidden farther down, I giggled uncontrollably. That booze was way too strong, even for just a sip. And to think that the Trainer couched us all the time; was he always drunk then?

I pulled open the door and a wave of cool, dank air blew into my face. I walked down into the dark, and, knowing exactly where I was going, stepped down into the lower levels where they kept the `older adult stuff'. I wrapped a clammy hand around the neck of a white bottle and climbed back up into the dim light. I really needed some sleep.

I shut the door tightly behind me and walked back to the Trainer's office, setting the bottle down in front of his door. He would find it sooner or later. As soon as that errand was finished, I sauntered down the hall to my quarters in silence, excited to climb into my generator. I ambled into my room and flipped the light switch, though I knew I didn't need it. Then something caught my sharp eye.

There was a folded note laying on the desk next to the large machine that took up half the room. I opened it unenthusiastically and read the note neatly scrawled in a deep blue ink. There was only one person I knew who had blue ink in the entire HQ: my good friend, Amantha. The note read:

Dear Camille,

I hope that you can cater for this message ASAP.

I need your help with one of my missions; I've been at it for at least a week, and I still can't figure one part out. If you could meet me at the Courtroom at Midnight, I will be most thankful.

Thank you so much, Camille.

I sighed and stared at the machine in front of me. I could climb in and not come out until tomorrow night, or go help my childhood friend who also owned the gift and obviously was desperate for my help.

`That sure figures,' I thought and set the note back on the table. I stalked tiredly out of the room, clicking the switch just before I walked out.

“Oh, Camille! You came!” A faint cry came from down the hall. I smiled at the unusual energy of Amantha. She was obviously in her generator all day, like I wanted to be terribly.

“This had better be good, Mandy. You're totally ruining my beauty sleep.” I grinned childishly. The booze hadn't worn off quite yet. Amantha ran down the hall and gave me a warm embrace, grinning wildly. Her bright brown hair shot off in all different directions, and I was amazed at how well it was controlled with just a small rubber-band.

“Good to see you, Camille.” She held me out at arms length and gazed into my eyes happily.

“It's good to see you too, Mandy.” I smiled jadedly and walked sluggishly down the hall down to the Courtroom. “So? What's the dish?”

She suddenly frowned. “I've been given an assignment of extermination.”

“That doesn't seem too difficult,” I said unbelievingly. That topic was Amantha's best one, and she was having trouble with it?

“I know it shouldn't be, but somehow it is. My focus is on Huston Brown, a younger man like all my subjects, but somehow I can't track him down for more than one night. He must move around all the time out of fear of being killed by the Obeisant, but I'm really not sure on this one.” Amantha said, pointing to an unfurled map laying on a nearby bench. “That's all the places I've tracked him down to, but when I get there, he's gone. Could you help me find out where he's going? He obviously has something to do with Trivit, but he's moving so fast!” She crossed her arms and stared at the map. She was obviously troubled by this one, which was very rare to see her in such a state.

I paused for a moment. “Okay, I'll help you. But can we start in the morning? I haven't had any sleep all day and I'm going out of my mind. I don't think I could concentrate now.”

Her face automatically brightened. “Alrighty then. Have a nice sleep!” She waved briefly and then hunched back over her map, tracing a couple lines with her finger. I walked calmly down to my room again and climbed into the generator. I slipped the case over my head and laid down comfortably, involuntarily feeling the power surge through my body, recharging itself. I closed my eyes as the chamber filled with a thick, white sleeping gas and welcomed the sleep-like trance that always followed.

“Wake up, Camille. It is 12 o' clock PM with a cool temperature of 62?. Should be a wonderful day for hunting.”

“Good morning to you too, Hay.” I said groggily from my chamber, slowly coming out of the trance. The chamber door was already open and the thick smoke was already pouring out into the room, disintegrating and disappearing into the vents on the ceiling. Hay was my personal assistant that helped me around my room; I programmed him myself, and designed one for a few other friends.

“Would you like me to set out a new pair of clothes for you, Camille?” He asked monotonously from the small corner in my room. I nodded and stretched, climbing out of my chamber.

“Something a little more edgy today, I'm feeling unique.” I said and glanced at the small closet in the opposite crook.

“Of course, Camille. The usual?”

I bobbed my head and yawned. A claw browsed through my closet and pulled out an outfit; a red, low-cut midriff, a tight pair of denim jeans, high-heeled black leather boots, and a couple bracelets. Hay also pulled out a long black ribbon for my hair, a black striped tie, and a dark overcoat. I grabbed the clothing from the claws with cold hands.

“Thank you, Hay.” I said and stripped, making sure the door was locked. I tugged on the garments, then checked myself in the mirror. I tied my hair into a long ponytail and swung it around my shoulders, then nodded at myself and turned the knob to exit my room.

“One more thing, Camille?”

“Yes?” I asked without looking back at the flashing box in the dark corner.

“Amantha stopped by last night. She taped a letter on the door.” I looked to my left at the other side of the open door. Sure enough, a small note was stuck to the door. I pulled it off and glanced over the blue writing.

Dear Camille,

I have just one more favor to ask you: will you bring a couple of your good guns? I figure they will help out very well.

Thanks a bunch!

“Hay?” I called, staring down at the note.

“Yes, Camille?”

“Pick out two of my best weapons. Turns out I'll be needing them today.” I crumpled the note and tossed it to the wastebasket under the table. I missed, but I didn't pick it up; I knew Hay would take care of it shortly. I looked back and held out my hand; Hay's claw placed a small pistol (the one I had used last night) and a larger gun (a sub-automatic machine gun). “Perfect. Thank you Hay.”

“Of course, Camille.” Hay fell silent and I walked out the door, shutting it tightly behind me. I walked down to the Courtroom where I knew Amantha would be, balancing the weapons in my slender fingers.

“Good morning, Camille!” I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned back with a surprised look on my face. It was Anna, leaning out of her room. She was wearing a loose band shirt and men's pajama pants. On her feet were brown slippers, and she was twisting her short brown hair. “Off somewhere?”

“Yes, I got another mission with an old friend.” I said simply and began to turn, but she interrupted me.

“Can I come with you, Camille?” She looked at me with pleading eyes, but I forced myself to stay strong.

“Actually, I think the Trainer needs to talk to you as soon as possible.” I said and tried to turn again, but again was disrupted.

“Okay then.” She sighed and looked down. “Have fun on your mission.” She shut the door gently, and I had to keep myself from turning back down the hall and knocking on her door. This mission was just between me and Amantha.

I pulled open the large Courtroom doors and stepped inside. It was amazingly bright, and Amantha bounded up, wearing every color but black.

“Morning, Camille.” She said and gave me a loose hug, then pulled away. “I see you got my note.” She smiled then. “I finally figured out what use this man is to the Trivit. He's the machine operator and designer. A huge piece in their plan. That's why they're going to such precautions as to use fake IDs, new haircuts every night, the list goes on and on. It's amazing what the Trivit are coming up with to protect their members.”

“Well if he's so important, then why are they even sending him out? Why don't they just use a messenger or something?” I handed her the larger gun; the pistol was for me and only me.

“The Trivit are smart, but not that smart.” She responded plainly and whisked a strand of hair out of her face. “I'm glad you're helping me on this mission, Camille. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it has been a long time. Well, daylight's wasting. Shall we go?” I said and hooked the pistol on a built-in hook inside the long flap of the jacket.

“Yeah, I found out where he's staying for the night. As far as I can tell, he hasn't left quite yet. I bet we could catch him if we hurried.” She put the gun down by her side and stared at it. “However, I don't think it would be socially acceptable to carry this huge thing along. Got anything smaller?”

“Let's go to my room. I got plenty more there.” I mumbled sleepily and placed the sunglasses over my eyes, yawning widely.

Amantha laughed dully. “Someone didn't stay under their generator long enough…” I glared in her direction and sagged my shoulders tiredly as I strutted back towards my room. This was going to be a long day.

As we clambered out of the entrance, I blinked in the sunlight, but Amantha just walked on through happily, bathing in it. We leapt the fence and walked peacefully down the street, looking as if we came from two different regions of the Earth. As a result, we received quite a few suspicious glances.

“So this guy is staying at the Sheldon Hotel tonight, right? We should show up and reserve a room and meet him there. How's that sound?” I asked, bringing a couple more glances from passer-bys. Amantha nodded and started skipping lazily.

“Sounds great.”

“Will you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“That… the skipping. We're drawing more attention than we need.”

She stopped with the quick steps and slowed down for me to catch up.

“Sorry.” She said quietly and stared at a man hurrying down the street. Amantha halted and stared on in surprise.

“But, he…” Her voice trailed off as she lifted a finger into the air. I followed her shocked gaze and studied him carefully. He was wearing a long trench coat with dark clothing underneath. Shaggy black hair nearly covered his thick glasses as his plastic shoes tapped at the concrete. I glanced back at Amantha's dangling jaw, then to the man again. He was rushing to a nearby building, a large suitcase in hand.

“That's our target?” I asked, watching as he stepped through a sliding glass door into a restaurant. Amantha nodded and hastened her steps toward the man's destination. I followed, careful not to let the flap of my coat reveal the small pistol inside. I held my arm inside my baggy sleeve and imagined a license to carry a concealed weapon, then held out my new permit, scanning my picture. It was fine for now.

Amantha made herself one just before she slipped into the restaurant, careful as to not let her target notice her. She hid her hand in the loose multicolored sleeve of her sweater and pulled out her new authorization, flashing it to the manager as they were seated. The manager nodded walked away to grab a couple menus. A tall, skinny man looked over Amantha's side of the booth, staring at me distrustfully.

“Can I help you?” I said with a slight frown on my face. The man turned away without answering, and Amantha scanned the restaurant for her target. Finally she pointed a covered finger at the man in a booth across the eatery.

“There.” She whispered drearily and stared at the guy as a thin waitress took his order. “We have to get him tonight; he's getting closer to the Trivit every day he's out there.” She looked at me as we were handed the menus.

“Let me know when you're ready to order,” the manager said monotonously and walked away.

As soon as he had left, Amantha whispered, “Did you find out what they're planning yet? It's got to be something huge if they're using this much protection for him. He had blonde hair and more stylish glasses yesterday.” She glanced at him then back at me as I leaned forward.

“They're planning to set a bomb in the center of the city at the end of this week. You're right, we need to get him tonight.” Amantha froze at the statement, then resisted the urge to bang on the table in fury. As the manager walked up to take our order, Amantha plastered the fakest smile I had ever seen and pointed at a random item listed. The manager nodded understandingly and I sighed, shaking my head. I ordered a cheeseburger and handed the menu over to the manager, then waited for him to walk away before continuing our conversation.

“Okay, these people are insane. Completely and utterly… insane. Oh look, he's going to the bathroom without his suitcase. I say we go over there and snatch it right now, just to see what's in it.” Amantha was about to stand, but I put a hand on her shoulder.

“No. Leave it. We'll get it tonight, don't worry.” She sat back down with a huff and crossed her arms like a child.

“If we keep waiting, we'll never be able to catch up with him.” She said grudgingly, though complying with my order.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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