Normalcy returned to Chase’s life like sunlight bursting through cloud-cover and reclaiming a rainy day. It was normalcy in a different sense to what he once knew, including more diverse duties and responsibilities, but it was normalcy nonetheless.

His day began as follows: wake up at the ungodly hour of five o’clock, prepare a slapdash breakfast usually consisting of porridge and sometimes consisting of a chocolate bar, then he’d get dressed and arrive at the day’s first Raid by six o’clock, finishing that Raid by eight, at the latest.

From there things would spiral, but on a good day, he and the other Hunters would complete at least one more Raid and sometimes two. He could only thank Jenny for her prosperous efforts in researching, bidding on, and organising these Raids, as she was the only one who seemed to understand exactly what should be done and at what time. It was like the woman had an innate sense of the traffic flows in the Towns where they did their Raids, successfully predicting and avoiding traffic jams, as well as devising precise routes for their transport vehicles to take to each location.

By the end of each day he was utterly exhausted, but in a good way. When he finally crashed onto the couch at Gramps’ and his apartment, his weary bones and tired muscles seemed to soak into the soft cushions, making the whole experience that much more enjoyable. And when his head hit the pillow — well, he didn’t really know what happened, because he was already asleep.

But along with this consistency, he felt the guild’s momentum beginning to plateau. They did much the same thing every day, slowly inching their way toward new equipment, items and enchantments for each Hunter. Unfortunately, there is only so much armour that one can wear, and only so many Monster Retrievers that can be operated at one time. They’d already gotten their average Raid-time down to just under two hours, from the Hunters stepping through the Gate to the Haulers clearing the entire place out.

But after reaping the rewards of a hundred Gates, the hundred-and-first doesn’t pack quite as much of a punch.

“Why the long face?” Jamie asked. The A-Rank had just obliterated a room of Marshguts with a new spell he’d discovered. It was like dropping a nuke, though he could control its range such that the caster and his allies remained unharmed. At first, he needed fifteen minutes to rest between casts, but as his efficiency increased and his casting was perfected, he barely broke a sweat.

The kid was fast becoming frighteningly powerful. Maybe even S-Rank powerful.

“Just thinking about stuff,” Chase answered. “Mostly complaining to myself, though.”

Jamie laughed and thumped him on the shoulder. “Bro, if the Chase Mendleton I knew from his Majesty days saw you having a sook, he’d boff you over the head. It’s been, what, four months? Five? Now you’ve got a successful Guild under your command.” He pointed across the cavern. “Chin up, that Noctant’s yours.”

Chase looked up, took aim, and fired two shots. He’d paid a visit to the hunting store and picked up a suppressor for the Beretta APX. It wasn’t completely silent, but quiet enough that they could make do with just some foam ear plugs as opposed to the giant over-ear muffs they’d been using. It made communicating a lot easier, and the ambient sounds of the monsters now leaked through, too.

“So what, you’re in a slump?” David chimed in. Evidently, he’d been listening in on their conversation. “When I’m in a slump, it helps for me to do something really wild and odd. To cure my last one, I ate a tablespoon of hot sauce, snorted a line of wasabi, then finely diced ten onions until all my tears were gone.”

They both looked at the younger Hunter in wonderment.

“What did that achieve?” Chase asked.

“Pain. And French onion soup.”

Jamie nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Maybe we need to Pavlov you, Chase. We start a ritual where every time something good happens for the guild, we ring a bell or clap our hands or something.”

“What then?” Chase ventured.

“Then when you’re feeling melancholic, we ring that shit right in your ears and your brain thinks you’ve just done something great.”

“But then won’t my brain crave misdirection? That sounds destructive.”

Jamie paused, scratching his head. “I…I’m actually not sure. I’d never taken it that far.”

They trundled through the rest of the Raid, debating various methods of tricking one’s brain into doing weird things. Marcus put forth his ‘patented’ Ultra-Super-Studying Technique, where he would wear a specific deodorant every time he studied. Then when he did the final exam, he basically drenched himself in the rest of the can. Jamie countered with the benefits of a healthy diet, then David ruined it all with an anecdote that everyone would have preferred to remain unsaid.

“Milk everywhere,” he ended on.

“You’re a sick bastard,” Jamie said.

The C-Rank just shrugged.

Once the boss was cleared, they returned back through the caverns to the Gate. They liked to take their time on the return trip, because it was sometimes the only rest they got before coming back in as Haulers. Mia crunched a dead Noctant’s exoskeleton with her shield, then suddenly her head jerked up.

“You need a girlfriend!”

They stopped to look at her.

“Who?” they chorused.

“Chase, you donkeys!”

Marcus stepped up, an extremely concerned look covering his face. “You’re not suggesting yourself, I hope.”

“No, I’m not. But you might have noticed that I am not the only person who fills the parameters.” She turned to Chase. “And you’re a Guild Leader, who’s been on TV! There’s your selling point!”

“I’m not sure that fame is a great foundation for a relationship…” Chase started.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“What?!” Mia cried. “Plenty of celebrities get together, look at them!”

“Plenty of celebrities get divorces,” Chase countered. “Like, twice or three times as often as the middle-class.”

“Gotta beat them in something,” Marcus interjected.

From there, the conversation derailed into yet another tangent. By the time they left the Gate, retrieved their collection bins and grabbed a couple Monster Retrievers, it had become a heated debate on the resurgence of the silent-film genre. Mia threatened to turn Marcus into a silent film if he didn’t shut his trap. The altercation continued into the Hauling process.

Chase left them to their bickering as he sliced a sheath of flesh from a Marshguts. Once he cut past the shaggy tentacles and mouldy skin, there were some long strips of meat that the more exotic restaurants dried and turned to monster jerky. He’d never try it in a million years, but it sold at a reasonably high price, if not in large quantities. They’d developed somewhat of a specialty in the product, with Jenny keeping a roster of restaurants somewhere in her endless system of organisation.

He kept busy by thinking about what Mia had said.

At what stage does a girl ‘friend’ become a girlfriend? he wondered. Do I have to ask her? Is it just assumed after a while? Are two dates enough?

He was starting to think that he should’ve spent at least a small part of his high-school days attempting to answer these questions instead of immersing himself in the cloudy stupor of videogames. Then again, one was fun and relaxing, whilst the other was dramatic and prone to disastrous failure. Technically, he’d gotten married to Josephine Prathwell in the playground at the tender age of six, but he had a feeling it wasn’t legally binding. In fact, the last thing he heard of Josephine was that she had a bought a house (somehow) and was engaged to a bloke from Queensland.

I wonder if they’ll say their vows beneath the monkey bars.

He laughed at the ridiculous scene forming in his mind. Something told him they wouldn’t have an eight-year-old celebrant joining them in holy matrimony when it came time.

Fourteen years after his first ‘marriage’, his inexperience was biting him on the butt. It would be so much easier to conquer his problems in some other, less personal way.

Suddenly, it came to him.

“Hey, guys?”

His band of Hunter-Haulers snapped to attention.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t you think that the Raids have been a bit easy, recently?”

*******

It was simple, really. The best way to conquer a humdrum life (of which Chase did not have a whisker, but constant excitement breeds boredom) is to issue oneself a bigger challenge. For a Hunter, that could be taken quite literally; a larger Gate meant more danger, as well as heartier rewards. All they needed to do was shove down their apprehension and give it a go.

Of course, brazenness would only hinder them. Chase learnt this humble truth quite recently, in fact. To come unprepared to any Gate was a grave error, and the sentiment only became truer as said Gate scaled in size. He’d seen the results of a poorly-run Raid firsthand in his time at Majesty, and although it was only a stain on the reputation of such a huge guild, to Ballistic it would spell complete eradication.

As always, the solution was to become even more powerful.

The Beretta had a similar failing as the Luger, in that it was semi-automatic, and used the small 9mm bullets. They packed a punch against weaker enemies, but using a more powerful weapon with a bigger bullet would increase his damage output massively. He needed a rifle, preferably an automatic one. And that wasn’t something that most hunting stores stocked.

Just in case Daryll and Mary liked to live outside the law, he thought he’d double check. On the same afternoon of the Raid in which he came to this epiphany, Chase signed a few contracts handed to him by Jenny (something about a tax return?), then darted over to Two City. By now he needed no directions, merely weaving through the flocks of people in the Botanic Gardens, jaywalking at a quiet intersection because the lights took forever, then slipping down an alley to the modest store.

The interior had seen some redecoration, namely the removal of the giant bear head. It was both a shame and a relief — the beast was iconic, but he’d never liked the thought of standing under it in the event that it fell. Even taxidermized, the thing must’ve weighed a ton.

Furthermore, the haphazard array of weapons cases and cabinets had been cleared, leaving a large, carpeted square area in the centre of the store, making perusal much easier. No longer did he have to tuck in his elbows for fear of bashing into some item worth thousands of Credits.

And standing at the desk, right next to an occupied Darryl, was a new face. It was a young man, maybe only a handful of years older than Chase. He was the spitting image of Darryl, except that where the older shopkeeper had a beer gut, jowls and wrinkled skin, the young man had muscle. He was practically one big ball of it — when his eyebrows moved as he greeted Chase, it almost looked like they had biceps hidden amongst the thick caterpillars of hair.

He waved at Chase. “Howdy! What kenna do ya for?”

“Hullo, ah, I think I’m just browsing. You’re Darryl’s son, right?”

The man winked. “One an’ the same. You been here before?”

“I have,” Chase answered. “Your old man took me to the range to try out a Beretta APX. Was just in last week for a silencer to go with it.”

He wondered if this was what Darryl had been like in his younger years. It he was, it would’ve been more than one or two slabs ago. The young man looked like he was ready to hurdle the counter in one leap then shake Chase’s hand until he ripped the whole thing off.

“Beauty! I think I know the one you’re talking about. Out in the sticks west of town? God that lady behind the desk there’s got the biggest—”

“RUDY!” Darryl spun around from where he was cleaning a rifle. He thumped his son over the back of the head. “Watch I don’t wash your bluddy mouth out with cat shit for saying crap like that. You run yor mouth ‘round Loretta and I won’t stop ‘er from layin’ you out on the pavement, ya steroid-pumped pansy.”

Chase backed up a step, thinking he might come back another time. Darryl turned to him in an instant, pointing a thick finger at him.

“Nope! Chase, I can’t let you go just yet, not on account of this useless sack of canned tuna and chicken breast. Would you believe that’s all he eats? And spinach, that’s it. Big bowl of dried spinach with his unseasoned chicken. No dressing, no nothing.”

“Sir, I think it might be best if I come back maybe tomorr—”

“Hold, hold hold hold. Let Rudy show you how he treats our valued customers first. I’ll throw in a box of nine mil for your troubles. Sound good?”

Noticing the red in Darryl’s cheeks and forehead, and the way he gripped the back of his son’s neck in a clawed grip, Chase thought he’d better do as he was told. Besides, a box of 9mm could never go astray.

“Sure thing. Happy to help.”

“Good. I’ll be back in five mins with your ammo.” He turned to his son. “Rudy, don’t disappoint me and don’t break anything else.”

Now Chase understood why everything had been shifted around. Rudy’s hulking shoulders wouldn’t have fit through the tight aisles. The young man took a deep breath and assumed an air of reverence, standing straight and tall and speaking very evenly.

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?”

Chase struggled to maintain a straight face. “I was just here to ask about some weaponry. I’ve got a Beretta APX, however I thought I might invest in something of a higher calibre and…capacity.”

Rudy interlaced his fingers on the glass countertop. “Do you have anything specific in mind?”

Now was the important part. It was convenient asking this question to Rudy rather than Darryl. He didn’t want to see the suspicion in Darryl’s eyes.

“Not a specific gun, but there is something I want it to do. Something, uh…fully automatic. Do you have that?”

Rudy’s face changed ever so subtly. His eyes seemed to flare and glitter, then he turned back to see where his parents were. They were only a few steps away, pretending to be busy with something else while they listened in on their son’s attempt at a sale. He turned back around, his face stricken with an intense glare.

“I’m afraid we do not sell fully-automatic weapons here. Semi-automatic is the best you’ll come by, at least by legal channels.”

Chase listened to the words, but they flowed past him like a weak breeze. Instead, he watched Rudy’s face as he spoke.

The young man’s eyes were wide open, and he was nodding.