Rand was...unhappy. The only balm was that Corpses were even more so. After calls were made. Orders were to bunk in the same safe place and since Corpses basically went catatonic as soon sun came up, they got 6 more Human reinforcements to keep them safe. Those persons were what Wolves called "Ticks" Parasites that had already fallen under the influence of Corpses. Just waiting for approval to "bloom" into a much larger threat. But effing Elders had them hunker down with Vamps and Ticks with the body stored in the large ice box. So it can be looked at again in the first joint meeting of two sides in around 30 years since The Truce. Simple enough yeah? Just wait until next sundown. Unfortunately, Ticks were way more hated than Vamps themself. He glanced at each of them, armed for close quarters with the best of the best. Three were carrying unbelievably compact pump shotguns, shorter than most sawed-off with the exception of double-barrel guns but while guns most commonly used birdshot to ease the kick only one hand has to withstand, standard #4 being the most common and rather effective However, these compact pumps were meant to be used with both hands hence they used a variety of buckshot that even larger sawed-off could handle with the benefit of 4-5 bullets, he even saw more musclebound Ticks and Vamps even use even #000 Buck, which was serious firepower even for someone in War Form to get shredded with. As soon as they hit the market they basically overnight replaced sawed-off as the weapon of choice for room clearing, room clearing denial, and alley fights. Wolfs did not use them since in close quarters even the Hybrid form was seen as equal...it wasn't, Rand knew it on an intellectual level but no Son of the Mother regardless of the tribe would risk the pride of their pack, or hell, even just their own. Not that they went unarmed, but they fell back to throwing implements. There were several throwing axes that were specialized to such a level that when flung even in human form packed serious punches while sometimes even outranging effective distance. They were scary in the hands of a pro. Once they were called in with one more pack to provide help to pinned down half pack, caught in an ambush by Hunters. Vaticaners by the garb. He saw Russ, the beta of the second pack throw a three-sided axe that when thrown properly was effectively flying a circular blade. He threw it in War Form. The distance was between 40 and 50 feet he struck the reinforced door of a half-truck that bisected both Hunters inside at the waist level and still had enough power to punch into the second door with enough force for one blade to get through, it was lodged so deeply that I the end they just took the entire half truck to chopshop. The memory brought a wistful smile to Rand's face, Anders looked at him with a raised eyebrow and returned to reality he just apologetically shrugged at his friend. Continuing to take stock of the Ticks.

Further two were armed with SMGs one of MP5 variants, he wasn't a first-rate expert but he believed to be an MP510A3 10mm, a decent choice if you expected for the fight to last a bit longer since it was able to conserve ammo a bit better than some contemporaries, but speaking of ammo, there was the obvious leader of the group. And as any Tick leader, this one liked to flaunt it through different kits. I was not an expert on SMGs or most rifles but I always had a soft spot for shotguns and this S.O.B. came packing. Magazine-fed Armscore VR80 definitely not the most expensive mag-fed shotgun but compared to all others in the room, one could bag a basic without any gadgets for about 600 bucks. But compared to others this one was Semi-Auto and eyewatering 19 rounds magasine. A sane person would likely Take the 9-round version, but like I said...Tick leaders. But ridiculous or not with it being semi-automatic, the ridiculous amount of shells, by virtue of the longest barrel being the hardest puncher in the room by a good mile. He wasn't such an idiot that he did not realize the length of it was a liability, keeping on the far side of the room to neutralize it as much as possible. I also had to consider that he did not become the leader for no reason, he was likely good enough that his masters thought allowing him this eccentricity was no liability. It goes without saying that all of them were packing silver in their shells and bullets, the entire room reeked of it. All had Glock as their sidearm although not the same, be it by preference, length of service, or whatever else there were three of them. Most (three) carried Standard G47MOS with already mounted sights, 5th gen all. While it was seen as the golden 9 mil standard by many, it was restricted to only law enforcement use, although many people worked for that to be changed for a while, Vamps never had an issue with that, regularly getting new generation batches as they came out for ages now. This was no surprise, it wouldn't be if all three Ticks were Cops in regular life. Two were peculiar for carrying 5th gen of Glock G19, G19 was a staple as is G47 but was mostly considered for concealed carry. The leader, naturally, had to stand out with only 10 mils in the group G20. As protection, they show at the same time how Corpses wanted the best, but to keep the sense of prestige for themselves while all Ticks wore the best law enforcement armor by NIJ scale Type 4, Corpses themself wore military-grade armor. All but Anasthasia wore ESAPI - REV. J, she had tricked out XSAPI - REV. C, I guess mostly as the status symbol. All of the Ticks lacked melee weapons, mostly because they likely saw it as superfluous at this assignment. The idea that any of them would stand the chance in melee against just one of us was too silly to think about.

Only several sects of Hunters still clung to melee weapons against us or Corpses, religious zealots like Vaticaners, or Melle practitioners like Three Claw Dragons, or even a mix of the two as good old Order of St George. But even then, after they spent all the ranged options. I looked at corpses, all of them were in torpor already meaning morning was well and truly upon us. I stretched allowing my bones to crack drawing the mouth of at least two shotguns and one SMG toward me. All of us ignored it, I saw despite balaclavas and lowered visors on their helms how irritated they were by it. With our complete disregard for the supposed threat they presented, they drank Corpse Cool Aid for too long hoping for the "ascension". In their view while their masters were always sharp as razors, we had to change first to be anything more than baseline Humans like them. I allowed them their little fantasies and nervous ticks, this would be a long nerve-wracking day for them while it would be just long and boring for us. I approached others Gar and Ian played bones, and Dona was on her phone and playing chess. Anders made a claw on his pinkie and cleaned imaginary dirt under other fingers, meaning mostly killing time. He looked at me "And?" I shrugged and leaned next to him "Same as always. The best money can buy, but slightly less prestigious than the thing Corpses are packing." "Threat level?" I grunted, my eyes swiftly going over Dona and Ian "I'd love to say "Zero", but you know how it is." He shifted pinkie back, "Yeah, Shit can always happen, let's settle on "Threat Level: One", it's giving them too much credit but I doubt on debriefing they would appreciate giving them fractions. You noticed Big Mans guns?" "Yeah, there is one bright spot though." Anders raises an eyebrow "If he starts any shit he'll regret the choice of the mag when they have to pull it out his ass." We both chuckled getting the attention of everyone in the room. Anders waved our guys "carry on" and also completely ghosted Ticks.

We kept our voices down but not by too much considering we used War Cant, It takes several years in Boot Camp to become proficient in it even for one of us. Ian still had issues grasping all. Ian. I was rough on the boy outside, too get used to Bodkin. Good, reliable, silent Bodkin. It's been nearly a year since we lost him and it still was like an open wound. Losing a packmate is not something it's easy to explain to outsiders, it's not just grief, although there is that too. But there is more, like you lost a body part or a sensory organ Bodkin was a piece of my brain I'll always lack. Wisdom, patience, inexplainable sense of self, and your place in the world. And when we lost him it was like all of that vanished in an instant. Not only to me, it felt like a collective thing. We chased his murderers with tenacity and disregard for secrecy that borderline crossed most of our secrecy tenants and when giving the account to the Council later, I couldn't 100% honestly say that we did not slip up at least once. After all, we hunted them from 26 Avenue in Astoria, somewhere close to Core Mechanical to Astoria Ferry, where they made the mistake of thinking they lost us there and did not bother to at least cross to Upper East End, it would make the things so much more complicated. But they were on the river and lost sight of us and assumed they just had to put enough distance. And if Bodkin was alive they would likely be right, physically was one of the easier stretches but we cut so close to being exposed there since we shifted between Human and Wolf form at least 10 times since they jumped on the ferry in Astoria and 11th Street basin where they had a van stashed. There was the closest we came to losing them, we lost the bloody scent and by the time we got it again damn van was already hitting 495 and they gunned the damn thing down and by miracle or, more likely, bribes to clog some other part they had nearly free reign all the way to St. Teresa in which they slipped, basically confirming they were Vaticaners. But following them was hell in more ways than one. The van looked like Socer's mom's vehicle but they souped the damn thing up and blasted between 80-100 mph, pack managed to get to roofs and jump across buildings in Wolf form. Hard damn run, combined with jumps. It was a nightmare. Gar slipped once and managed to claw his way back only because Rand was big enough to grab him with teeth for skin behind his neck like he would pup and draw up, Rand himself DID fall but the winding fire escape caught him two floors lower. Someone probably wondered about large indentation tomorrow. He wouldn't be surprised about seeing in 911 reports someone mentioned roof-jumping wolves. He hoped no one would end up in the loonie bin because of them. They had to shift when they entered Sunnyside. Rand already thought to tell Gar to hotwire the car. They were good but their stamina was not inexhaustible. When they noticed the van getting off the 495. Just in time, they stayed in the shadow of the roofs until they saw 6 shooters enter the church.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Attacking church directly, until then was something unthinkable, unfortunately for them, the person who cared about thinking was dead likely picked up by the cleaning crew. He hoped Bodkins's body was in the Tribe den and taken care of by now it seemed hours by now, but his phone insisted it was around half an hour ago, and the map insisted it was around 5 miles away. 5 miles of running trying to stay hidden while throwing caution to the wind at every opportunity. Now They stood on the roof overlooking the church. Bodkin would say to wait until the enemy exits, they don't live there, and even if they did some would need to go to get supplies, also they should watch for the back exits too, if the church is just a misdirection. But without him, all remaining 4 were off the roof within seconds. From Rand's direct jump and shifting into Hybrid mid-air just to use increased agility and coordination to fall into roll stopping scant several feet before rolling out of the alley. To slowest Anders who found a fire escape and parkour down the building in human form. All of their collective shock to their system charged the air, They moved out of the alley as one being, like insects led by a hive mind. Doubtful as a legal defense, they stopped to let the car pass, there was very little traffic. It was past 1 A.M. but the lack of people that basically killed their stamina on the 495 was helping them now.

Gar looked at the building across "It looks impressive." I remember at the time being irrationally angry at the moment, like not wanting to give props even to the building that would inevitably sustain the damage in their attack, but now a year removed it was impressive. Architecture exuded power with a lot of statues that were intimate peeking from the bushes. The dichotomy of the institution itself. Dona was catholic and since her...accident. we rotated taking her to the church close to our den to be her mouth. The priest there was this old, tiny man with a perpetual look of worry on his face, Before long, we all called him "Uncle" and I believed from time to time each one of us went there to vent to him about the world and he got the honorary title of "the Kin of the People" Six shamans from six remaining tribes performed the ceremony. Took a pretty penny to get some from the other side of the pond. runes were etched. His small church became a real haven for those running from evil. In his mid-60s he was noticed by his superiors and was to become Bishop, but he refused. He is still called Uncle and loved by all the people his word reaches I was about to think some more about it after I pulp the doors catch the hunters and paint the pulpit and old seats in gore, what kind of people serve in places that are regularly visited by basically serial killers and not only don't condemn them but bless and absolve them for the work well done.

They were about to cross the street toward the stairs when Dona hissed, about the only vocalization she could produce, and pointed to the right into the parking of the church. The area was large and had two doors coming from the church but all lights were off, and due to relatively weak illumination, coming only from inside the buildings many would miss several figures coming from the further door, obviously wanting to go down the approach coming from 45th street. Four were out three men and a girl and waiting for two more. They seemed in high spirits, the same as we did after every successful action. They changed their Hunter garb for casual apparel and chatted, the last pair finally joined them. After a few friendly jibes about "slowpoke", spirits were high. If I did not have their scent etched in my mind I would refuse to believe they just gunned someone down would maybe lose the chance and they would definitely notice us which would lead to another chase. Or worse, they retreat into the church again.

Like this, it was over within 6-7 seconds. When Dona noticed them instead of beelining for them we ran to the church and parkour to the top from the main entrance to the roof, It would be seen as an achievement since it took us like five seconds, most people couldn't sprint that distance in five seconds so we would;l be discovered like a fake parkour enthusiast. Which we were, all of us used both foot and hand claws. Wall gave way under them as butter, on the roof shift to wolf and sprint to the part above four large AC fans, if they did not work plan would be screwed, but they worked with some claw scraping we used two corners to lower ourselves directly above them above them. And with sign language, I conveyed the most rudimentary plan quickly. Mostly because I heard the last two coming a good minute before their friends, once they were out I looked at others and got three synchronized nods. We shifted to War Forms, If there were cameras and this was Hunter HQ they would hide them, if they weren't HQ but just provided them spiritual service they would hide them until further notice. I counted down on my fingers, full-length claws eating light as they went down like small scythes. Three...two...we descended on them at the same time. Dona, the thinnest of us, just basically rolled off the roof falling in the space between them, and cut off escape back into the church. At the same time, she grabbed the closest one of them, which happened to be a female "slopoke" dragging her closer and snapping her neck in one efficient move. Anders and I did a move we damn nearly perfected. We flew through the air even showing off a bit before we fell into the center of four, one swipe each, and four heads dropped on the ground. The real problem was not getting blood on the fur. I went high he went low, I jumped as far up as I was able retreating my legs back to kick again and propel myself to the side against the wind and rolled away as I hit the ground. Soon joined by Anders who banked on the speed jumped between two corpses and began rolling away as fast and far as he was able. We watched in silence as fist droplets of blood rain fell to the ground. Four bodies just now figuring something is wrong and beginning to twitch as their knees buckled under them. Male "slowpoke" just turned back and fro in disbelief looking at towering figures around him and then at what we assumed once was his girlfriend or wife. Before beginning the sprint toward 45th he turned toward us from time to time to check did we were chasing him. Just as he vanished I heard flesh strike on flesh and then the body struggling to breathe as being dragged away. We all felt the loss of Bodkin, we all felt it as part of us had been lost, But only two persons felt that loss exactly the same as any person on the earth.

Dona, Bodkin's fiance, and Gar, Bodkin's younger brother.

When we returned to the den and I gave my full report I expected to lose my head then and there. Not only Elders did not come on me for anything, but they apologized to me for not having anyone experienced, or even half-pack to fill our loss currently but suggested that we take a few days off and maybe check new graduation classes and see where there is someone that catches our eye. I followed Elder Ulla and asked what just happened. She was half blind from age but that sharpened their other senses that she was sometimes called Spider Queen. Instead of losing 2 eyes, it seemed she grew 6. She expertly fixed two cups of Irish coffee, extra strong, and pushed the cup toward me "What happened is that you finally became full Alpha. One might be voted, or fight his or her way to position, but one will never be truly recognized as one by us until they lose a man." She took a deep sip "How a leader deals with that finally decides will we accept them as one of the Alphas. Each situation is different as is the solution and we came to the conclusion you did the best you could with what you had. Sure, you took unnecessary risks, and depending on the fallout from that, there may be consequences. But not now. None would dare. We all lost a packmate, many packmates actually. This is a time for grieving. You will find the body of your man in the Hall of the Roots. You are to lead the Rite of Sendoff tonight." I choked on the drink "Me?" Her laughter was rusty and old. "Didn't I say you are REAL Alpha now? Due to the process of grieving, we will take it easy on you but there is much to get used to, That being said you are expected to attend Little Council every night and Whitness Great Council meeting once a week." The weight started to settle on my shoulders. Now a year later I was still haunted by it all I glanced at Ian and Gar. Gar returned a few hours before the morning with the body of the last hunter being found next to others splayed on the fence in Blood Eagle position. Gar was mostly a goof, but he did have a darker side I did not want to think about. Ian, I picked up with Anders a week later. On paper, he was everything Bodkin was not, mostly because I didn't want others to think I was trying just to find Bodkin No.2 but he had a personality that was hard to hate. And already everyone warmed up to the kid even usually reserved Dona. If asked, others would most likely say I was the only holdout. Something to think about and act on...soon.

I sighed and crouched looking past Ticks toward the figures lying in torpor. Now all of them removed their masks, marble-white faces with high patrician cheeks. They looked like tombs to some knights I saw in Europe, hell for all I knew some were. They were their best, recruiting from already renowned warriors would be a simple choice. Second only to their age. I doubted either of them was younger than 300. They had no smell unless they used perfumes, they made no sounds unless they chose to, and they were worthy opponents by all counts. Still, they were abominations that broke the cycle willingly, and for that I hated them. My view got obstructed, Leader of Ticks noticed my "undue" attention and blocked my view. I stood up and turned my back to him.