Pendleton waved at the similarly masked driver in the jet-black SUV parked on the edge of the shopping mall’s parking lot, who turned the ignition and, after several tries, got the engine started right as the four Huntsmen reached the vehicle.
Pendleton opened up the passenger-side door, patted the layer of insulation padding duct-taped to the rim of the doorframe, climbed inside, shut the door and removed her gas mask. “Place is clear. No targets on or immediately below the premises.”
The driver checked something off on a clipboard tucked haphazardly into a cup holder. “That’s one more. Anything on the salvage side? Randall?”
“Nothing worth putting anything up, no,” said Red, as she pulled a lock of her hair out of a crack in the mask that it had gotten stuck in. “Randall’s going to be quiet for a little while, by the way, because he’s a whiny little baby.”
“Nobody asked you, Red!” snapped Randall, uncomfortably close to Red’s ear, squished together in the backseat along with Messier as they were.
“Something happen?” asked the driver, as he took the SUV out of the mall’s parking lot and into the snow-covered street.
“He found a magic cat-person who beat him in a rigged game of cards,” said Pendleton. “I think Portland might actually be connected to the Fae world, at this point. It’s been a long twenty-four hours and I miss cleanup duty in Salem, can we just go to our shift with the locals now?”
“Course, right. My map says it’s about five minutes from here…” The driver continued in silence for about thirty seconds before processing the entirety of Pendleton’s statement. “…Also, what?!”
Pendleton looked over the back of her seat at the cramped figure of Messier directly behind her, who sighed and nodded at her. Pendleton turned back to face the front of the car, making sure to keep her signing in view of him. “Also, once you’ve dropped us off and headed back to base, can you just find a Huntmaster or whoever and tell them to get SM Marlowe to send someone to investigate the park on this side of the river? We received a tip that it might be a site of interest for the targets.”
“…Was this tip from the cat?” asked the driver.
“Just tell someone it was from an SH,” said Pendleton.
“I… Sure, ma’am, you got it.”
–
“Head down that manhole cover to the right, ma’am.” The driver indicated the manhole cover in question, which had had the snow around it cleared away and a reflective silver banner planted in the concrete next to it. “My notes say their hideout is a little past the second left.”
“Yup, got it.” Pendleton picked up her mask and started strapping it in place along with the rest of her team. “And remember: Find a Huntmaster. Get Marlowe. Park. West side.”
“Yeah, will do.” The driver waited for the four Huntsmen to exit the SUV before promptly driving off.
Messier switched on the flashlight strapped to his coverall, followed by the other three Huntsmen. As the four of them headed one by one down the manhole cover, he signed at Pendleton and indicated for her to interpret his message. ‘Does anyone have anything to say about our… recent encounter, or will we just take it in stride?’
“Look, sir,” said Randall, waiting for Pendleton to start translating for him. “It’s been too long of a day for us to keep thinking about that. We’re down here for three hours, then we can finally head back to HQ and make this stupid city someone else’s problem for a day. Here on out, sir, I’m on autopilot.”
‘I understand that,’ replied Messier.
Red swept her flashlight along the bricks of the tunnel, following the string of reflective tape that had been strung across the length of the tunnel to mark a path. “Just don’t act like we’re safe or anything. The underground’s suspect number one for the teams sweeping for the Burning One.”
Randall muttered something too quiet for the radio in his mask to pick up. “Yeah, well, I might be down for a little payback, especially considering the last couple hours. I know my training. Get in close, act on reflex, bing bang boom.”
“Awful easy thing to say,” said Pendleton. “Doing is another thing entirely. We’re coming up here.”
The four Huntsmen turned a corner to come face-to-face with the dim multicolored lights of the local’s hideout. When they entered the chamber in full, the locals who spotted their approach immediately signalled those around them and made for cover. In a single moment, all eyes were trained on the masked intruders.
Pendleton groaned and removed her mask. “Okay, look, it’s just a shift change, don’t get huffy. If the last guy here did anything untoward, he’s liable for a disciplinary hearing with a Junior Huntmaster. We’ll show him the door, where is he?”
One of the locals raised a hand. “We didn’t do it, it was the Primoi.”
Pendleton’s grip on her shotgun. “…What Primoi?”
Red removed her own mask. “And you didn’t do what?”
The local nodded towards a pile of garbage bags in the corner of the room. “We, uh… We weren’t sure what to do with him, since he was your guy, so…”
“…Oh.” Pendleton motioned for Red. “Uh, s–secure that, make sure it’s, uh, not a trap or anything.” She hastily cleared her throat. “Okay everyone, hold still! We have everything under control, we’re just going to sweep you all to make sure we’re clear. Nobody do anything sudden or you will be restrained, understood?”
Messier watched Red pull open one of the garbage bags, which had apparently been fastened together into a makeshift body bag, and gag. He glanced at Pendleton. ‘P get him?’
Pendleton nodded. ‘Checking if it’s still here.’ “Grease,” she continued verbally, “You heard me.”
“Yup.” Randall entered the cluster of locals, removing his mask and inspecting their faces. “Look, you’ve gotten the lowdown from whoever was here first, so you know how this works. Give ‘em up early before we need to do this the hard way, and you’ll have an in with your new best friends.”
One of the locals looked up at Randall from the entrance of a tent as he walked by. “Too bad they already left a while ago.”
Randall looked down at the local and scowled. “Right, sure. How convenient. Like you people have such a good track record of harboring Primoi and not turning them in. You ever hear about what happened to San Francisco when we first arrived here? They wouldn’t pick their own team over the guy ruling over them, and now they’re all rotting at the bottom of the bay.”
Red stepped away from the body bag, eyes glassy. “It… It was a while before any of us signed on. We weren’t there.”
“The point is,” continued Randall, “I’m surprised we’ve even extended the olive branch to you all. You’re definitely on thin ice, so I would recommend not burning whatever bridges you’ve got left. Make this easier for everyone.”
“Yeah, yeah, scary, we get it.” A local walked up to Randall and folded her arms across her chest. “You can’t intimidate reality into making there be Primoi for us to turn over to you guys. So lay off. They already left us to deal with a body, so you can go ahead and start looking for them and stop bothering us.”
“You don’t–” Randall wheeled around to look at Messier. “Cane, back me up here. Moonshot, tell him to back me up.”
‘He’s asking you to say that these people are being ungrateful,’ signed Pendleton. ‘I really should be keeping you up to speed for this.’
Messier glanced between Pendleton and Randall, his mask being the only one that was still on. ‘I guess it would probably be in everyone’s best interests to not be too–”
Randall waved at Messier to cut him off. “Okay, okay, he’s not the best for public speaking, but the point is that you people don’t seem to understand what kind of options you’ve got going for yourselves here: You can work with the rest of humanity, and if things work out, we’ll wipe out the Primoi and bring back all the loved ones you haven’t seen in years to bring in a dozen generations of unity and harmony for the whole world. And if things don’t work out, we will be eradicated. You folks can have your right to do your own thing given back once the only alternative isn’t everyone dying.”
“Sorry to sound dismissive,” said another local, “but I doubt a bunch of clowns like you can magically undo the end times. Unless you actually do know something about how this all fits together that we don’t?”
“I didn’t volunteer because I figured I’d get answers, okay? Knowing things isn’t my job. That’s what makes Primoi like the Burning One so powerful, after all. And much as I’m sure it would like to say otherwise to preserve its ‘scrappy underdog who looks out for the little guy’ image, that thing could steamroll a hundred of us in the blink of an eye.” Randall sighed. “Besides, last I checked, none of you knew a single thing about any of this until a few hours ago, so how about you stop acting so high and mighty about things you don’t know anything about, huh?”
Pendleton stepped forward and put a hand on Randall’s shoulder. “Hey, Grease, buddy, maybe cut the gas a little bit, okay? We’re just here for security, no need to–”
“What, scared?” Randall pushed Pendleton away. “We’re the good guys here, and now a bunch of malnourished idiots think they know better! We won’t be able to fix this stupid broken city until the people already here actually know about what we are dealing with for them!”
In the corner, Red sighed and squatted down on the ground. “Randy, it’s not worth–”
“Grease!” snapped Randall. “We’re at work! Right now, other Huntsmen are probably mobilizing to take out the monsters who we have no reason to fight other than protecting these ungrateful little brats, so forgive me for not wanting to turn this into vacation time! We can relax when things aren’t a matter of life or death!”
“When aren’t they…?” mumbled Red.
Randall sighed. “The point is, we have a responsibility during this shift to make sure that these new guys actually understand what we Servants actually do.” He turned to the unimpressed locals. “Don’t want to put up with this kind of thing? Volunteer! Become a Huntsman! Beats sitting cooped up in a literal hole in the ground, after all, and your rations get tripled. More if you actually manage to kill something.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“You also get promoted if you convince enough people to sign up,” muttered Red.
“You know,” said a local, “I don’t recall anything about rations coming up in any sales pitch. We’ve been managing pretty alright so far on that front.”
Randall rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable. Okay, yeah, you’ll probably have to cut down. We’ll organize you a little better and send anything you guys find out there beyond your share to any other Servants who need the extra food more than you, which is most of them. Sorry to tell you that you’ll have to start thinking about someone other than yourselves for once.”
“Would’ve been nice if we could’ve been told that we’d start feeling charitable before we got brought into this,” muttered the local.
“Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it?” Randall sighed and sat down, shotgun laid across his lap. “We’re here for the next three hours, so you’ll just have to deal with us keeping you safe and alive that whole time. Unbearable, I know.” He held his head in his hands. “Didn’t sign up for this…”
“Neither did we,” replied the local.
Randall rolled his eyes. “Look, you can keep whining about this, or you can accept that this is in everyone’s best interest in the long run and stop being so selfish about having to deal with a couple rules every now and then. Our communities all got assimilated too, and it was the best thing to happen to everyone in years!”
“To be fair,” said Pendleton, “most of us were brought in months ago, since the Servants only now have any real reason to come this far north. Back then, scavengers could put together enough food for rationing to not be much of a problem.”
Red raised her hand. “I only volunteered because rationing became a problem.”
Randall glared at the two Huntsmen. “Whose side are you two on?!”
Pendleton took a small step away from Randall. “I–I… Look, it–”
“No, you know what?” Randall stood up and stormed towards Pendleton. “I should’ve expected this from someone who only got promoted because she got lucky. I’m the only one out of any of us, maybe Cane too, who understands what the world needs from us! The Servants are the best thing that ever happened to humanity, and I’m not going to let you drag down everything that gave me a second chance to fix everything, just because you saw me lose a game of cards!”
“I didn’t…” Pendleton looked to her subordinate. Red simply shrugged.
“They raise people like me up, people who actually care about what the Servants are doing,” continued Randall, “because if it wasn’t for people like me, you’d still be freezing to death under some rock in Kansas or wherever you’re from! It’s people like me who hold the Servants together, and that’s why I deserve this gun and this mask, and you don’t!”
“When did this become about Grace?” asked Red.
“When Moonshot made it about me!” shouted Randall, glaring at Red. “And use your codes! You all are the ones who tried to undermine me, the real Huntsman! I’m the one stating the truth, and you traitors are doing your best to turn these sheep to the side of the Primoi!” He held his shotgun out at the other Huntsmen. “See this? This thing is in our hands because Torch trusts us to punish those who don’t deserve our protection! When things matter most, what side of it do you wanna be on?!”
One of the locals reached over and tried to push Randall’s shotgun down. “Okay, this is getting out–”
Randall wheeled around and swung his shotgun at the local like a club, slamming the stock against his temple.
The local stumbled and fell to the floor, blood streaming from the impact point on the side of his head. Other locals swarmed around their dazed compatriot, forming a barrier between him and the Huntsmen.
Randall waved the bloodied shotgun in the air. “You people are you pathetic! You don’t know how much you need us!”
‘Keep him aside.’ Messier rushed to the side of the fallen local, pushing through the growing crowd and kneeling beside him. He unclipped a bag of first aid supplies and withdrew a lump of cotton and length of gauze bandages. He pressed the cotton against the patch of blood and held it in place with the bandages, then withdrew his hands and looked up at the crowd around him, expression invisible behind his gas mask. ‘Do any of you understand this?’
One local hesitantly raised a hand.
‘Good,’ signed Messier. ‘Keep him here, make sure his head stays elevated. He’s probably concussed, so keep him away from anything loud or bright. He might need stitches too, so if he starts getting dizzy or delirious, let one of us know and we’ll take him up to get better medical attention when our shift ends in three hours. Did you get all that?’
“What’s the guy saying?” asked one of the other locals.
“U–Uh…” stammered the one who Messier had signed at. “He says they’ve got a hospital for Tuck. For… stitches, yeah.”
Messier looked back at the other three Huntsmen. Red had seemingly wrested Randall’s shotgun from him and was keeping him in the corner. Pendleton, thankfully, was free. ‘Hey, can you interpret for me for a minute?’
‘Sure.’ Pendleton hurried over to Messier’s side while he stood up from the downed local and sighed with relief.
‘I’m not even sure what to say about this,’ signed Messier. ‘Junior Huntsman Grease is my subordinate, and I accept full responsibility for things getting out of hand like this. I disavow him and anything he said, and will do everything in my power to make sure he gets put somewhere where he won’t hurt anyone else like this again. Senior Huntsman Moonshot and I–’
Pendleton pointed at herself. “That’s me.”
‘Both work hard to uphold what it really means to be a Huntsman in service of humanity, and we will all do our best to make it clear that Grease isn’t indicative of what we do and how we treat the people we swore to protect. We all go through extensive training to make sure we all know the proper procedure for doing what we do, even though we all started out just like you people. You won’t see him again, but I beg you, don’t let him be the model for how you think of the rest of us. We all swear to do better than him.’
One of the locals rubbed his arm nervously. “Just… Just make sure Tuck comes out okay. And make sure we never see that nutcase again.”
Many of the other locals nodded and murmured assent.
“We’ll do our best.” Pendleton nodded at Messier, then turned back to the crowd. “I think it’s best if we don’t put it off. Simo– Cane and I will take your friend up to get attention and bring Grease with us to see justice, and we’ll leave Junior Huntsman Bucket with you in case anything goes wrong. Is that alright with you?”
One of the locals raised a hand. “Is it okay if I come with you guys? I–I have a mask, you don’t need to worry about that or anything. I just– Tuck’s my boyfriend, so I, uh, I just kind of want to come with to make sure everything comes out okay.”
“Plus,” said another local, who moved to stand next to the first, “it’ll probably pay to get a better look at the behind-the-scenes with you Huntsmen. You seem like you could use a few more good apples.”
“Of course,” said Pendleton. “Uh, whoever wants to come can go ahead and do that.”
Once everyone had shifted positions to one side of the room or the other, three or four extra locals who hadn’t said anything had also joined the group that would be following the Huntsmen aboveground.
One of the moving locals handed Pendleton a spare mask and hoisted the slowly rousing victim onto his feet for Pendleton to take, and as she slung his arm over her shoulder and donned her gas mask, she signed back to Messier. ‘Red’s covering for us, let’s get this guy out of here.’
Messier nodded and tossed Randall’s mask to where the Huntsman was sitting. ‘Let’s hope Grease doesn’t bring us down with him. This isn’t how I want my career to end.’
–
“SH Moonshot reporting, ISC-USA-2.” Pendleton shot Randall a glare as she stood in front of her Junior Huntmaster in his tent. “We’ve got an injured civvie outside from POI-3 who needs medical attention. In addition, SH Cane and I would both like to request disciplinary action against JH Grease–” She gestured at Randall, who was quietly fuming behind her– “for insufficiently-provoked violent action against a fellow Servant of Reckoning, as well as conduct unbecoming of rank.”
“According to who, Moonshot?” snapped Randall.
“You stay quiet for now.” The Huntmaster leaned forward in his chair and examined his cadre’s roster. “And which one of you is Grease’s SH?”
“That would be Cane, Huntmaster.” Pendleton pointed to her partner.
“Mm.” The Huntmaster turned to Messier. “Loyalty’s still a point of concern with those civvies, Huntsman. Did you remember to officially disavow your subordinate’s actions?”
“Uh…” Pendleton quickly repeated the Huntmaster’s question in sign language.
‘Of course,’ replied Messier, giving Pendleton a moment to begin interpreting. ‘First aid was also administered to the injured civilian immediately, and we assured the rest that it wouldn’t happen again.’
“How did…” The Huntmaster shook his head. “Nevermind. You did your part fine, then. Go ahead and take the civvie to the surgeons and sign off on everything, then come back here. I’ll have a talk with the JH while you’re away. I assume you were on guard duty at the POI, right? You left someone to finish your shift?”
“Yes, Huntmaster,” said Pendleton, “my JH.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, Huntmaster.” Pendleton turned and took Messier with her. ‘Let’s get this guy some help.’
-
As the two Senior Huntsmen walked back down the bustling street of tents and prefabricated buildings, they noticed Randall (presumably, the mask led to some uncertainty) exit the Huntmaster’s tent and walk towards them.
“Good news, Cane,” he said, once he was close enough to the two of them. “With the turnover rate you’ve got going for you, I think you have a decent shot at getting another promotion by the end of the year.”
Messier stared at his former subordinate. ‘…You were discharged?’
“Nope. Transferred. Huntmaster called my behavior back there– Moonshot, make sure you point out it’s a quote– ‘Potentially harmful in the context of active duty, but commendable in terms of passion for the cause, understanding and conviction.’ I’m being moved to the ‘Mission Education’ program that they’re setting up for future volunteers, since they do in fact value people like me who really gets what the Servants need, Moonshot.”
“So, like,” mumbled Pendleton, “are you trying to make some kind of point by sticking to codes? There aren’t any civvies around or anything.” She momentarily stopped signing for Messier and gestured around at the Huntsmen passing by on either side.
“Moonshot, it’s still unprofessional to make things personal, especially now that we’re in different departments.”
“Is this because you feel bad about losing a card game to a catgirl?” asked Pendleton.
Messier elbowed her.
‘She wasn’t not that, S,’ she replied.
“It just… Put things in perspective for me,” said Randall. “We can’t act like this is all some big joke anymore, not when lives are on the line. We Huntsmen are the ones who have to deal with saving the entire world, and if we don’t take Primus sightings and Primus collaborators seriously, whatever happens is going to be on us. You can say whatever you want about me hurting that guy, but both me and the Huntmaster agreed that the civvies here aren’t going to try anything stupid once we’re around for a long time. Like I said, the Huntsmen need people like me, whether you like it or not. I’m the one who gets more rations than both of you combined now, after all. If what I say gets a result like that, what it is that I’m actually saying isn’t exactly my top priority.”
He turned and made towards the barracks. “I’ll be seeing you around, folks! Let this be a lesson.”
Pendleton didn’t move for a while after Randall left. ‘…I genuinely don’t believe this. I can’t.’
‘Grace, stop worrying about it,’ signed Messier. ‘It’s not worth it.’
‘I don’t care if it’s worth it or not! We just saw a guy on our watch beat someone so hard he had to go to the hospital, and he came out of it with a promotion! Who even considered that that was a good idea?’
‘The Hunt Master did. I don’t understand what you want to do about it. This isn’t our problem anymore. We did our shift and probably won’t ever have to see those civilians again. If you try to make him get punished the right way by stomping back into that tent and yelling at the Huntmaster to change his mind, you’ll just become the one who ends up punished.’
Pendleton huffed. ‘So what if he starts ‘educating’ new volunteers to keep doing the same thing? This isn’t how things are supposed to work!’
‘You don’t know how things are supposed to work,’ signed Messier. ‘Neither of us do. We’re lucky nothing went wrong for us, so we shouldn’t push our luck. Just accept that our Hunt Master made a decision we didn’t like, and move on with your life. Don’t get upset over something you can’t change.’
Pendleton sighed and lowered her hands.
‘Thank you. You did good today. Let’s go pick up today’s rations. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten something.’