The Dungeon was a breeze. Chase blitzed through monster after monster, carving up the competition as if they were paper puppets. The Beretta barked, spitting bullet after bullet into the mounting enemies. Herb’s bullets were creating carnage, the after-effects at times resulting in multiple kills per shot.

This is what it means to be a powerful Hunter, Chase thought. This is what I was missing out on.

He spun and fired at an approaching Noctant, stopping it dead in its tracks. The next shot brought a Dolothin slumping to the dirt, its long legs folding below it as its Soul came out in a whoomph. Chase had no time for his surroundings, he had no concern for his foes. He was sprinting faster than ever before, crossing rooms flat-out like a lizard drinking.

If it weren’t for his low funds and desire to conserve bullets, he would’ve been firing while he ran. He marvelled at the increase in his Agility, the way he could hit the brakes and change direction on a dime. It was like he’d been running up a hill his whole life, but all of a sudden he had rocket thrusters attached to the bottoms of his shoes.

Then, the boss fight. Despite the small Gate, his stomach still flickered with butterflies at the thought of encountering that frog-like monster once again. Of course, now that he was geared up and by himself, he was completely unfettered. Without anyone in his way for whom he had to worry about, he could unleash everything in his arsenal.

He was confident, but still he let out a small sigh of relief when he entered the final, dimly lit area and saw the snarling, dribbling creature at the other end. The cavern was a hallway of swinging traps, which suited him just fine. In fact, with the kind of range he had, all that the tight space did was give the beast less room to manoeuvre.

With a few well-aimed shots, it was dead.

There wasn’t even enough time to properly identify it. It was insignificant, deserving about as much attention as an ant beneath his boot.

I must be B-Rank, at least, he decided. A-Rank, if only considering my damage output.

He compared himself to Jamie. They had different strengths, and Jamie had been the one to bail him out of two different predicaments so far, but he was just as powerful. More versatile. Jamie’s power would increase as he honed his Talent and expanded his repertoire of spells, but for now they were close.

With his joyride finished, he rushed back to the entrance. The stacks of carcasses strewn about the chambers could’ve added up to a few hundred Credits, but that would take hours of work. With any luck, tomorrow’s Raid would net the guild five or six times that amount.

He tucked the pistol into its holster and pulled the waist of his enchanted hoodie over the top. The stitching was warm under his hand. He wondered what else the arcanist had made for her son. If there was a wardrobe of this stuff somewhere, he’d take it, armour be damned. With the right gear, he’d never take public transport again. Running would be just as fast.

Credits, Chase. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

The stagnant smell of cars and the eminent noises of Four Town’s nightlife unfurled around him as he returned. There was a whee-aw-whee-aw of an Emergency Services vehicle racing down the nearby streets a couple blocks away.

Or was it? It seemed to be getting closer. He looked around the other side of the Gate as the flashing lights of a CIU car entered the carpark. If there was something wrong at the Superplex — a robbery or something — he couldn’t see it. The CIU vehicle skidded to a stop about twenty metres from the Gate, its tires screeching.

A crackling voice screamed at him through the loudspeaker. “Drop the weapon and get on the ground!”

Oh shit.

Chase’s hands flew up and he crouched down on one knee. It was instinctive — he’d never been in hot water with the authorities, so he was inclined to do exactly as they said. The most trouble he’d ever been in was in primary school, after he’d convinced another kid to eat three sticks of glue. Compared to that, this was…

The end of Ballistic. Potential jailtime. A huge fucking disappointment.

If he didn’t have the hoodie and the buffs that came with it, he might’ve laid down and accepted his fate. But that would almost certainly mean giving up everything he’d worked for, everything that still lay ahead of him. The Gate he’d demolished was his first taste at the true capabilities of his discovery. No longer was he taking pot shots with his rusty old Luger. No longer would he walk behind his Monster Retriever, picking up the results of battles he could only dream of taking part in.

He turned to the Superplex and ran.

The CIU vehicle’s engine flared to life, tires spinning as the cop behind the wheel hit the accelerator. He didn’t have time to turn around. All that was important was the wire fence connected to the corner of the Superplex building. Behind it were huge recycling bins, some filled with flattened cardboard boxes and others slammed shut. If he could get there, and if his Agility let him clear the fence in a hurdle…

White light flashed behind his back like heaven itself was trying to envelope him. He flinched, then realised it was the cop taking his photo. The huge spotlights at the front of the vehicle completely exposed him for another few seconds, causing the customers in the Superflex to shield their eyes and turn away from the windows.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He recoiled, scrunching his shoulders in and lowering his head involuntarily. Blood pumped in his ears like plucked strings on a double bass. His heart jittered in his chest; a feeling so foreign it was almost ticklish. He emitted a cackling laugh as he launched at the fence, soaring so close to the tops of the wire he thought he might just clear it.

Time seemed to slow in those moments. The car’s horn was a constant drone behind him, a stern warning to give in. The wire fence glinted in the harsh illumination, hundreds of motes of reflected light all seeming to concentrate on him.

He cleared the gap.

The grimy yellow lid of the recycling came up to greet him. Or he came down. Either way, he crash landed on the top, slid on the wet surface, then fell to the ground in a heap.

There was a warmth running down his leg that he prayed was anything but bin juice. Scrambling to his feet, he shuffled down the narrow alley, squeezing past the other bins. Whatever the Superplex were putting in those bad boys, it wasn’t pleasant. He held his nose until he exited the alley and swerved left onto one of the main tributaries of Four City.

The train station — his salvation — was only a kilometre away. He kept to the shadows, wary of the assortment of cameras that may or may not have been tracking his journey. Luckily, he would be hard to identify. The army patch on his shoulder had been discoloured and mucked up by his brief meeting with the ground, and the rest of him was clothed in black. As long as he kept his head down and took a meandering route home, he’d be fine.

But those photos better be blurry.

Once his heart settled, he inspected the sticky warmth on his calf. It wasn’t bin juice, thankfully, but it was blood. Somewhere in his hurdling of the fence, he’d received a long gash starting about halfway up his calf and ending just above his ankle. It was only shallow, and wasn’t bleeding too much, but what blood had already dried was painful when he peeled the torn material from his skin.

At least it wasn’t the new hoodie. He took a few test sprints, confirming that it was still in working order and hadn’t lost any of its power. He never thought he’d be so scared of a loose thread or incorrect washing machine procedure.

Once on the train, he relaxed. None of his fellow commuters ousted him as a criminal or even glanced his way to begin with. The majority of them were tired men and women in business attire, their suit jackets and laptop bags on their laps as they struggled to stay awake.

Three City was quiet, and after staking out their apartment for ten minutes, Chase confirmed there were no undercover cops waiting to ambush him.

For now, he was safe.

*******

At that morning’s Raid, he discovered it wasn’t only the CIU that he had to be cautious of.

It was Jenny’s wrath that burned even fiercer, like a tank of gas thrown on a bonfire.

“What were you thinking!” She pulled him into the women’s bathroom and unleashed. The Raid was just outside a cinema in Five Town, and whilst it was closed down, the staff allowed Ballistic to use the facilities. There was also a free gold-class movie ticket in it for each of them, if things went well.

“What are you talking about?” Chase asked. “Is this about the gifts for Marcus and Mia? My hoodie? They’re investments!”

His Raid Manager pulled out a paper copy of an article in the Crimewatch section of the newspaper. It was a photo of Chase’s back, mid-flight as he flew over the Superplex fence.

“I know this is you! You think I didn’t notice the backpack of bottles you took into the Majesty Raids? You think I’d believe that you’re going into Raids with the Hunters to ‘identify’ monsters for them? It’s Noctants and Marshguts in there, Chase, not exotic creatures from Korea!”

Chase stepped back. Arguing in the women’s bathroom was odd. The lack of urinals was extremely disconcerting, and it was clean. There was no paper-towel on the mirrors and the floors were so…stain-free.

“Jenny, I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re new to all this! And I’m their Guild-Leader, I’ve gotta be there to boost morale and to—”

“Marcus confirmed it,” she interrupted. “I pretended that you’d already told me, and he spilled his guts within about thirty seconds. Don’t lie to me.”

Goddamn Marcus, Chase thought. I buy him a gift and he betrays me.

“Well Mia is my new favourite Tank, then,” he replied. “And you don’t have to worry. I was just testing my new purchase — it won’t happen again.”

Jenny pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed, deep in thought. “It better not, because obviously—” she held up the article and tapped his photo— “some people aren’t a fan of you. If you’re gonna do this, be sensible about it.”

Chase nodded. “I will. And since we’re here, is there anything else you want to know? You’ve unravelled the big secret; it can’t hurt to get all the details.”

“Agreed. I want to know what the big plan is here. Do you have one? Are you in this alone or what?”

Chase needed to think before he answered. They were questions he’d asked himself on numerous occasions since that first kill, questions that he was still struggling to answer. He had dreams, but dreams are easy. Implementation is the hard part, when one has to think about logistics and timeframes and capabilities. It was hard to parcel out when it all needed to remain in his head.

“I have parts of a plan, but I don’t know if it’s a full one. In the long term, I’d like to show my discovery to the rest of the world. I want everyone to have the chance to become a Hunter, even if they’re Talentless like me.”

“And what does that have to do with the guild?” Jenny asked.

“Well, Ballistic is a case study, I guess. Someday, I’d like for it to be split into two halves. One side would be composed purely of Talentless Hunters who also do the Hauling side of things after each Raid, and the other side would be for traditional Hunters, like Jamie. The two sides could swap people around every now and then as needed, but at their core they would be divided.”

Marla came in, saw the two of them standing at the sinks, then quickly backed out and went into the men’s. Jenny ignored the intrusion.

“Well shit, Chase, that would’ve been nice to know earlier.”

He blanched. “How so? Did I mess up? Is it going to cost us?”

Jenny laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that…I thought you wanted Ballistic to stay small. You know, running Town Raids and using wheelbarrows instead of Monster Retrievers? But this…I mean, you want to compete with Majesty!”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I suppose I do.”

Finally, Jenny pulled him out the door into the outside world. She was beaming, like she hadn’t just been ready to tear him up.

“Well this is great! We’re going to need an R&D Department, consultants, lawyers…an office! We’ll have a Guild Headquarters and an actual postal address! The GRA can send its letters there rather than filling up my mailbox!”

“Hold up, the GRA sends us mail?”

Jenny looked at him like a master might look at their weak, inexperienced apprentice.

“Oh, Chase. You have so much to learn.”