PROLOGUE: THE HUNTER

Hunters are born in the jungles of the west and raised in those very same trees. Childhoods spent in quiet villages amongst other children, women, and the elderly socialize the children and teach them how to interact with the world like normal human beings.

But once they hit the age of four, they are taken from their mothers and sent into the civilized world to learn the trade of the hunter: to slay monsters and enrich the Order. At this ripe young age, the children freshly moved from their villages are taught the basic building blocks of education and the four common languages of the world.

For four years, they spend their time becoming fluent native speakers of the common languages. On their eighth birthday, they are put through gene therapy that grows their muscles, tunes their brains, and enhances their senses. From here, they finally learn how to track beasts, use their newly tuned senses, and undergo the basics of magic and combat.

When they reach the age of twelve and master basic combat and become better situated with their strange new bodies, they become apprentices. The next six years of their lives are spent in classes learning about strange creatures and common culture, sparring with their fellow classmates, and accompanying their master’s on journeys into the civilized world. Here they are taught that a hunter’s goals aren’t just killing monsters for money, but to manipulate the world around them and make it bend to the Order.

Finally, when the six years are over and the children turn eighteen, they graduate and become rookie hunters. It’s a short and sweet affair; they assemble alongside the same children they grow up with all their lives and are given the tools of their trade before being sent off into the world, the hunters’ lifeline. A veil like mask, a high caliber handgun, and a scimitar. But the most important tool was the veil, which allowed a hunter to conceal their face, shapeshift into other human beings, and see through low visibility conditions.

With these tools a hunter sets about their duty, going into the world to make their society rich and manipulate their fellow man. But a human being is a powerful thing possessed of its own free will, and hunters are no exception. Young bright-eyed youth are a hard thing to control, and when set loose upon the world, there’s no telling what they’ll do…

ACT 1: HAINO CITY,

CHAPTER 1. WOVEN SYMPHONY

Two years following his graduation into becoming a newly minted Order hunter, Wone found himself wandering the crowded streets of the city center. It was a cool day in Haino city, sidewalks bustled with people going about their daily lives, and black streets hummed with the sounds of horse drawn carriages and energy powered cars as they rolled along to their destinations.

On days like this Wone thought back to one of his late masters’ old sayings, “it’s a good thing the world ain’t safe, because I’d be out of a job.” He continued to wander around in search of the detective agency he was meant to meet his client at.

The job was picked up by one of the Order’s veteran hunters and Wone’s de facto boss, Taps. According to him, Wone was supposed to meet an official at a detective agency located at an address within the city center. However, densely packed streets and the confusing hodge podge of signs kept Wone wandering for another half hour before he finally reached his destination. The building stood alone on an otherwise crowded block, a calligraphic sign reading, “Song’s detective agency” on the middle of the three egg shaped structures that made up the agency.

“I hope they don’t expect me to go around trying to solve murders, that isn’t my fucking job,” thought Wone through the transmitter in his head. The device picked up Wone’s irritated thought and sent it to Taps who was currently monitoring him on a terminal at their home base.

“Just get in there and do what I tell you,” replied Taps coolly. He was Wone’s operator, tasked with using the mapping software that connected Wone’s body with the terminal to guide him through his mission. But currently, he was just annoying Wone with bad directions and unhelpful communication. It was bad enough that he had to work with regular unenlightened people, he didn’t need Taps antagonizing him with his indifference. Wone sighed and pushed open the doors to the detective agency.

Upon entering the office, Wone was met by the small figure of a receptionist hidden behind a terminal.

“Hello there,” squeaked the soft voice of the small woman as she peered her plump face from behind the terminal monitor. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I suppose I do,” answered Wone glancing around the small reception room. “I’m supposed to be meeting with an official about some missing people. I believe her name is Song?”

The small woman pressed a few keys on her terminal then nodded. “Ah yes, the seven o’ clock with Lady Song, right this way.”

The small woman hopped off her chair and moved out from behind her desk, gesturing for Wone to follow her as she led him to a room with a mounted placard that read “Investigator Dunna” in black lettering.

“Here we are, the Lady is just inside, best not keep her waiting,” with a wave, the small woman turned and left Wone alone in front of Investigator Dunna’s office.

His curiosity mounting about just who he was supposed to meet, Wone gave the door two soft knocks before entering. Inside sat a young woman draped in the tiger covered royal blue gown of an official and a tall skinny man dressed in black. A pair of serious eyes and a pair of curious ones stared back at Wone, surprised at his sudden entrance.

“Hello,” declared Wone awkwardly. “I’m Wone, I’m here to meet with Song about some missing people.”

He took a seat beside the woman not waiting for their response. The man across the table cleared his throat and offered his greetings first.

“Uh, hello I’m investigator Dunna.” He reached his hand out to Wone, who grasped it and shook it firmly.

“And I am Lady Ying Song, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Wone,” said the young woman. She offered her hand to Wone who gently grasped and kissed it.

Finished with the initial greetings, Wone scanned the cozy office the three of them sat in. Pictures of Dunna during the different stages of his career littered the office walls, alongside others of important people in his life, and awards he had earned. Apparently, he was quite an accomplished individual.

“Before we begin our business, I’d like to discuss some other matters if that’s alright with you,” the sound of Song’s sweet voice pulled Wone from his eye-wandering and brought him back to their meeting.

“Sure,” answered Wone, although he was annoyed at the delay such a conversation would have on his missions’ completion. Taps must have sensed this because his voice began to echo into Wone’s head.

“Do as she says, she might pay us more,” he ordered a cool tone.

“Excellent,” Song exclaimed smiling. “Firstly, I’d like to ask you about your upbringing, is it true all hunters grow up in the wild?”

Wone considered her question for a moment, to lie and embellish or tell the truth? “The wild,” Wone said deciding to go with a bit of both. “Lady Song, I am an educated man, fluent in four languages and familiar with the histories of each of the four nations.” He paused for some dramatic effect. “I did not grow up in the wild.”

“Oh, my apologies,” said Song waving her hand in a defusing gesture. “Forgive me for believing in such a thing, I just didn’t find it too far fetched considering how good you hunters are at your job.”

This comment elicited a genuine look of annoyance out of Wone who disliked what Song was suggesting. She laughed and gave Wone’s expression a few more dismissive waves until he cooled.

“So have you been a hunter your whole life?”

“Yes, and it’s the only thing I’ve ever known,” replied Wone thinking about his past.

“Is it the only thing you’ve ever considered doing? Is it what you want to do?”

Wone thought for a moment and smiled. “Well to be honest with you Song, the only thing I’m really interested in is money, being rich.”

The little smile Song had on her face since Wone entered the room grew wide and he swore he could see a glimmer of excitement shine from behind her eyes.

“Is this a personal interest or an Order value,” Song asked, her gaze upon Wone intensifying.

“It’s definitely both, but I’m as greedy as greedy can be,” Wone replied bluntly. For a moment his thoughts drifted off into dreams of high-rise apartments, lavish dinners, and fine silk clothes. He was brought back to reality by the sound of Song’s laughter.

“Well, I can’t say I was expecting that response,” she managed, her intense gaze now broken. “That’s all for questions I had for you, on to business.”

“Indeed,” Wone declared smiling softly.

“The people I wanted your Order to find went missing two days ago. Last night, we managed to find out that they were abducted by an arachnid, and we tracked it to a mansion out in the ruins. I sent some men to cordon off the beast and ensure it doesn’t move.

“You will go out and save my missing people and kill that monster. My men await you at the mansion, Dunna if you would,” at her command, Dunna rose to his feet and opened the office door.

“I’ll take you to the beast’s nest,” said Dunna motioning for Wone to exit the office.

“My lady,” said Wone with a bow before following Dunna out of the detective agency.

“We’ll be driving through the slums, the mansion isn’t too far into the ruins,” said Dunna as they walked along. “The men will be getting started without you, they’re supposed to force the beast into the center of its nest.”

They arrived at Dunna’s vehicle, a black engine powered car. It was a priceless thing, sleek and long and able to fit five people. Wone wondered just how rich and powerful this Lady Song was. Even for a noble this was rare. Wone crossed the hood and hopped into the passenger seat.

“You guys have any idea how big this thing is,” Wone asked as Dunna entered the driver’s seat.

“We don’t have any exact measurements,” replied Dunna. “But it was strong enough to shed bullets and kill two police officers in the Cordon effort. We also believe its responsible for six other missing people in the area.”

“Ask him if they injured the beast at all,” said the voice of Taps from within Wone’s head.

“Is the beast injured,” asked Wone.

“They reported that it took some gunfire before it retreated into the mansion, but its armor was thick so there wasn’t very much effect,” answered Dunna.

Wone recalled all he knew about the ambush predators known as arachnids. They were basically armored spiders that liked to hide in abandoned buildings and tunnels. Those that stayed above ground only got to be as big as a bear, but the one’s underground could be as large as a truck. Wone would almost certainly be dealing with the former, which would still be trouble due to its high mobility and tough armor.

“This could be some trouble,” said Wone through the communicator in the back of his head. “I’ll have to use some gasoline and burn it out.”

“It’s not a problem, just douse the building and burn it down after you save the hostages,” replied Taps evenly. “Should be simple.”

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As the two spoke inside Wone’s head, Dunna drove right through a checkpoint separating the gated peaks from the slums. New and refurbished buildings turned into older faded and weathered concrete, and eventually derelicts. When they drove through the checkpoint Wone noticed that they weren’t stopped like all the other vehicles. The implication of this wasn’t lost on him. They continued driving for another twenty minutes until the sparsely populated slums turned into completely abandoned ruins and finally, a lone mansion sat on a hill.

“Here we are,” said Dunna killing the engine. He exited the car with Wone and the two of them walked over to Song’s men who were posted around the hood of a police car, using it as an improvised table. Including the newly arrived Wone and Dunna, six men stood around the hood of the police car analyzing a hand drawn map of the mansion’s interior.

The officers looked to Wone expectantly as he analyzed the map they had drawn. The mansion was split into two wings and a large foyer by the entrance. Two staircases lead to the east and west wings, a large circle was drawn in the west wing signifying where the officers had chased the arachnid into.

“This circle is it’s nest,” asked Wone placing his finger on the circle.

“Yes,” replied an older looking officer. He was the only one wearing a golden crest on his blue uniform jacket, meaning he was the leader of the other officers.

“Alright,” muttered Wone formulating a plan of attack within his head. He’d need some oil or gas to pour around the mansion to set alight and an escape route once he got the spiders’ attention. He would do as Taps said distract the spider; the hostage rescue he would leave to Song’s men.

“Here’s the plan,” began Wone. “I’ll go in and douse the house, after I’m done, I’ll draw the arachnid out of the west wing and into the east wing. When you hear me making a commotion from inside, you rush into the west wing and save the hostages.”

The other five men nodded their heads in approval and began to prepare themselves. One of the police cars had a gas cannister in its trunk, which Wone found awfully suspicious, but didn’t question, it was none of his business. He tied the cannister to his left hip and began to lead the old man and the four other officers up the stone steps that went to the mansion’s front doors.

“Alright everybody know what they’re doing,” asked Wone shooting a glance back at the men behind him. They gave him a collective nod and he pushed open the mansion doors and slowly snuck his way to the middle of the foyer.

The interior of the mansion had seen better days. Once intricately designed walls and carpets were now soiled with dirt and grime, time and mold ate away at wooden walls, and ruined furniture littered the foyer. On either side of Wone were two rundown staircases that looked like they’d barely hold if he climbed them. On the center of the open room hung an old painting, torn up and made unrecognizable from the years of solitude.

Focused on the task at hand, Wone began to pour the clear liquid of the gas cannister along his path as he crept his way up to the second floor of the mansion. Slowly but surely, he covered the foyer floor, east wing stairs, and second floor halls in flammable liquid. Once he was done with the east wing, he retraced his steps and headed up the west wing stairs to repeat the process.

As he moved through the mansion, he continued to check his surroundings for the arachnid, constantly peering over his shoulder for an ambush. His enhanced vision had kicked in, allowing him to avoid stumbling into any of the cobwebs or holes that filled the mansion. A clear picture of his surroundings did little to calm his growing anxiety, since he knew that by now the arachnid had picked up on his roaming and was certainly watching his every move.

Where is this thing, he wondered glancing around the dank decrepit halls of the collapsing west wing.

Just then he picked up the faint smell of blood and the subtle sound of legs thumping around above him. Resisting his body’s natural urge to freeze up, he forced himself to calmly look toward the sound. There he found a crack and hole ridden ceiling with which the beast was surely spying on him through. He looked away with as much calmness he could conjure and continued to search the wing as if he hadn’t noticed anything. If the beast realized he was onto it, it might panic and become unpredictable. For now, Wone knew it was tracking him, which meant he knew where it was at all times.

“Did you tag it,” Wone whispered in his mind, as if the beast could hear his thoughts.

“No, but I managed to pick it up,” replied Taps. “Get a better beat on it and I can start telling you where it’s going.”

Wone continued to search for a way up into the attic where the officers had marked the nest. He had found where they had chased the spider up, but the beast had covered up the entrance with web and debris. He’d need to find a new way up.

“I think you’ll have to make your own way up,” interrupted the disembodied voice of Taps. “Head back to one of the rooms near the stairs and hop through the ceiling. And be quick, this suspense is killing me.”

Shaking his head, Wone did as he commanded and headed back the way he came to search the rooms nearest to the stairs for a weak point in the ceiling. He found a spot in one of the rooms that looked like he could jump through without bringing down the room or injuring himself.

Here we go, he chanted in his head, crouching down to wind his muscles up before exploding upward, crashing through the ceiling, and landing in a nearly pitch-black room. He quickly scanned his surroundings, spotting eight gleaming black diamonds staring at him as his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the attic. With a roar, the beast pounced toward Wone, who at the same moment drew a knife from his belt and sent it sailing into one of the creature’s eyes before dodging out of its path.

It shrieked as it sailed by, sending shivers down Wone’s spine. He turned to dash back down the hole he had come up through but was caught by the arachnid as it recovered from its initial shock. The weight of the beast jumping onto Wone sent the two crashing down the old crumbling ceiling and into the room below.

“Tagged it,” came the voice of Taps cutting through the sound of falling debris.

Wone and the monster struggled in the wreckage of the ceiling. Wone managed to wretch the knife he had thrown earlier out of the beast’s eye and used it to stab into a gap in its armor around its neck. He thrusted the blade into the creature over and over until it managed to penetrate deep enough to force it off him to preserve itself.

He struggled to his feet and quickly bounded out of the room and into the hallway.

“Hey, we’re almost ready to get this party started,” hollered Wone as he quickly descended the west wing stairs. He wanted to make for certain the four outside knew to get ready to start saving the hostages, since he had no idea how long he’d need to keep the arachnid occupied.

As he climbed the east wing stairs the beast caught him again, barely missing his shoulder with its gnashing fangs. Wone wriggled around beneath the monster until he was on his back, then began to kick and elbow at its underside until he created enough space beneath the creature to slip free. He climbed frantically up the remaining stairs and bolted into the halls of the east wing.

“Can you see if they’ve entered the building yet,” asked Wone in his mind as the beast continued to pursue him through the east wing.

“Yeah, it looks like they’re climbing up into the attic now,” replied Taps. “I’ll let you know when they’re out and you can set this building alight.”

Wone and the beast rumbled through the east wing, crashing through walls, and ruining furniture as they went. Wone used every piece of loose scrap he could get his hands on to slow the arachnid, hurling rotting wood, old lamps, and random accessories. His attacks left the arachnid mostly unfazed, and it continued its determined pursuit.

“Are those fuckers almost out,” cried Wone through his transmitter, his thoughts frantic. His heart pumped hard as he ducked through corridors and dodged over dressers, tables, and other pieces of loose furniture. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up, he was running out of places to go, and the spider was getting closer and closer.

“They’re out,” said Taps sending a feeling of relief through Wone’s body. “Light the building up and jump out of one of the windows, you’ll live.”

Wone wasted no time in following Taps’s advice. He emptied the remaining contents of his gas cannister and struck a match, watching anxiously as the arachnid approached from the doorway. He dropped the match above the pooling gasoline and dived through the window, feeling a small bit of pain as his shoulders met and passed through the old glass. Behind him he could feel the air shift as the room’s gasoline caught fire and began to spread around the room. As he sailed through the air, he caught a brief glimpse of the arachnid’s silhouette dashing away from the fire, not quite fast enough to avoid the creeping flames of the ignited gasoline.

His moment of triumph was short lived, as he made contact with the quickly approaching ground. He landed on overgrown grass, breaking the fall with his side and rolling onto the brick path of the property’s garden.

“Ahgk,” Wone groaned as he laid on his back feeling the slowly growing pain of his fall. Je caught his bearings and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling through the garden to the front of the mansion. Beside him the building began to start burning in earnest, the inferno now encompassing the entirety of the east wing and probably the west wing too. Hopefully the arachnid was being cooked inside.

“Good riddance,” Wone muttered aloud at the thought, urging his aching body to amble along the red brick path beneath him.

He found the officers and Dunna beneath the stone steps that led to the mansion’s front doors cutting the missing people out of their gossamer cocoons.

“How’s the goods, they alive,” asked Wone. He stood over the two officers freeing the three captives.

“They’ll live,” replied one of the men crouched over the bundles of white thread.

They were working slowly, carefully cutting away the webs without injuring the sleeping victims within. After a few more minutes of work, one of the officers freed the upper body of one of the captives, a skinny woman who seemed otherwise healthy despite her captivity. The officer pulled out a syringe and injected it into her neck, probably a stim pack, to make sure she remained alive.

“Another piece of history lost,” said Dunna stoically while watching the inferno of the mansion slowly grow brighter.

Under the sound of cackling flames and collapsing wood, Wone could hear the high-pitched screech of the arachnid as it burned up from within the roaring flames of the mansion.

“Captain, take the hostages to the hospital and ring up Lady Song, tell her they’re safe,” ordered Dunna turning away from the flaming building. “I’ll stay here with the hunter and make sure this thing is dead.”

The old man nodded and took two men and the now freed hostages to the hospital in two police cars, leaving Wone, Dunna, and the last remaining officer to watch over the flames of the mansion.

“This’ll take a while,” said the officer, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.

After about two and a half hours the flames finally subsided, and the charred remains of the dilapidated mansion were finally cool enough to sift through. Wone and the others scoured the wreckage for signs of the arachnid’s body until after twenty minutes of searching, Wone found it beneath where the east wing staircase once stood.

“Hey, come over here and look at this,” called Wone hunched over the smoking carcass.

Dunna and the officer carefully marched their way through the mansion ruins to where Wone stood over the arachnid. To confirm that the creature was indeed dead, Wone gave its side a sharp kick and waited for a response. Nothing.

Dunna pulled a camera from his black coat and began to snap pictures of the dead creature.

“Oh, get one with me in it,” giddily asked the officer as he got down to pose in front of the arachnid’s charred corpse.

He placed his right foot a top the creatures head and leaned his upper body onto his bent knee, shooting Dunna’s lens a smile. Watching the two of them take trophy shots stoked Wone’s own desires and he walked over to the beast’s smoking body.

“Get one of me,” he said crouching down beside the spider’s head and putting on a mean look.

“Say spider,” joked the officer as Dunna prepared to snap the photo.

Dunna took the photo and Wone and the officer walked over to him and peered over his shoulders at the small screen of his camera. Wone smiled in triumph as he admired his own image.

“Strutting around like a cat who caught a mouse,” interrupted the bored voice of Taps from within his head. “Hurry up and get the cash we have waiting for us and bring it back to base.”

“Let’s start heading out shall we,” said Wone walking towards Dunna’s car.

Dunna and Wone climbed into their black car and the officer entered his and escorted the two of them back to the detective agency. The two of them basked in the sweet silence of a job well done and the exhaustion of physical exertion. Wone was tired from his labors within the mansion, and Dunna had bags under his eyes from what looked like a lack of rest.

They pulled into the agency and exited their vehicles.

“Your payments in the trunk, follow me,” said Dunna directing Wone to follow him to the back of the car.

He popped open the trunk and handed Wone a briefcase. Wone promptly opened the briefcase and ogled the contents within. Shining back at him were two thousand credits worth of gold standards. The minted face of some old Taipanese noblewoman filled Wone with joy as he counted out the sum within the case.

“Oh yeah, this’ll do,” cooed Wone running his hand through the money.

As he stood there basking in the feeling of getting paid, Dunna tapped him on the shoulder and with his finger on his lips signaling for Wone to stay quiet, he handed him a letter. Without another word he turned and walked into the detective agency. Confused, Wone began to tell Taps he had completed his task.

“I’ve got the cash, headed back now,” he said through the transmitter.

“Alright,” responded Taps.

He felt his mind’s connection with taps fade, and he was left with the quietness of a lone mind.

Mission accomplished, he thought. Now to read this letter.

He tore open the envelope in his hand and began to read the contents of the letter within. It read:

Dear Wone,

Our brief conversation earlier has so intrigued me I scarcely find myself thinking of anything else. I feel that you can make a very distinct difference in my organization, and it would be very lucrative for you if you would consider meeting me at 9:30 tomorrow night at the attached address. I look forward to hopefully seeing you again.

-Ying Song

Below the message was an address to a fancy restaurant in the city center.

Wone found himself grinning at the letter as he finished reading. The opportunity of a lifetime had just fallen into his lap and if he played his cards right he could make a lot of money, and perhaps even gain some status.

But that sign earlier, wondered Wone thinking back to his final interaction with Dunna. Why had he signed for Wone to be quiet when he handed him the letter.

“Impossible,” Wone muttered aloud, still clutching the letter in his hands, rereading Song’s elegant handwriting.

The only possible explanation was that Dunna somehow knew that hunters could communicate with each other without anyone knowing. He clearly didn’t understand the nuance of the transmitter imbedded in the back of Wone’s head, since he thought whoever was on the other end could hear whatever he heard, but he knew he was communicating with someone.

This is interesting, thought Wone.

He lit a match and burned the letter, casting its ashes into the street as he began to head towards base. As he followed the crowded streets of the city center back to the apartment building he and the other Hunters were operating out of, his mind drifted off to the possibilities of a future under Song.

It wasn’t unheard of for hunters to leave the Order for a while and strike it out on their own, but the process by which they left was unknown to Wone. But the prospect of becoming filthy rich was too much to pass up so Wone made up his mind to meet Song tomorrow night.

“I wonder what we’ll be having for dinner tomorrow,” he muttered aloud.

And what shall I wear?