Dorian had just sent his application letter to the Kowloon City Power Plant when Dan kicked in the door and stomped in. The man moved around the garage in a huff and then froze when his sights fell on the van. “So guys, how much do you think I can get for this?” Dan asked gesturing to the van.
Dorian looked up and was about to research the market price of a new van when Jax preempted him, “You cant sell the van, Dan.”
“Well why the hell not?” Dan retorted. “It is functionally mine.”
Jax breathed deep and seemed to gather himself before he spoke, “I don't know how you got the girl to like you so much and I really don't care. All I know is she's solid and she wasn't the one that set us up. Someone else did. Selling the van would probably tip the person off and make our lives hell. A girl as rich as that has a thousand eyes watching her and whoever she interacts with.”
Jax paused and flicked his wrist pulling up a news article about some security guard being fired. He sent the article to everyone in the garage and as Dorian read the article, his brows furrowed.The reasons listed were weird to say the least. “Look here, the guard wasn't fired because he failed to stop the robbery, that could be the case but I highly doubt that,” Jax said. “He was most definitely fired because he discharged his weapon in the general direction of a very rich girl. Someone who knew your girl was there didn't like that.”
Jax continued, “The girls planning was solid and she came through on her part. Someone in the shadows didn't like what she was doing but was powerless to stop her. So they hit us, and I'm telling you — selling that van will set off alarms.”
As Jax spoke, Dan seemed to deflate with each word till he was leaning up against the van and staring up at the hole ridden roof of the garage. He flicked his wrist and typed a quick message which he sent and then shut of the terminal with a determined look in his eye.
“Okay Jax, since you're in such a talkative mood today then I guess you don't mind helping me out. ” Dan didn't wait for Jax's assent before he continued. “Those useless guns we used for the heist came from some unsavoury fellows in suits. They claimed what was obviously a loan was in fact a sale and are asking a price that is downright criminal.”
With a sigh Jax asked, “How much?”
“Oh in the realm of 32,000 credits. No biggie.”
Dorian jumped at the price, they were talking about the price of the smallest monster core. A fortune. Dorian knew for a fact that nobody in the garage had that amount of money, hell nobody in The Lodge did.
“Alternate payments?” Jax asked with a defeated voice.
“They want me in the Meat Locker for a month.”
That was basically a death sentence and by the heavy atmosphere that descended on the garage, everyone knew it. Jax sighed and struggled to his feet, his hand on his injured side. “Meet me at the hub in an hour, all of you and come prepared.” With that he limped out.
Dorian knew what come prepared meant. He walked out after Jax and patted Dans shoulder on the way out. As Dorian walked back home he begun to psyche himself up for what he knew was coming.
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When Dorian made it home, he immediately went to his bed and sank to his knees. He reached an arm beneath his bed and pulled out a long wooden battered case. Dorian flipped it open and breathed in the scent of oiled iron and steel. Arranged carefully within the box were Dorians weapons and the things that had kept him alive. Swords, spears and daggers. The hunters life was that of dealing death.
As he looked upon the weapons and his former life, Dorian felt keenly the loss of the system and the abilities it provided. Once he'd been able to fight giant regenerating Orgers by setting his weapons alight and he'd danced among hordes of murderous goblins by floating between them, untouched by gravity and the weapons swinging for him. Now here he was powerless and preparing to slay monsters in mobster form.
Two sheathed daggers and a short sword later, Dorian was ready. He left the house and made for the hub.
The hub was the home to one of the most important people to hunters, the Optimisers. Next to the smith's that made their weapons, the alchemist that brewed their potions and the armourers that armoured them. The Optimisers didn't seem that important. Most hunters made the mistake of ignoring the Optimisers. Early on it was discovered that the System assigned numerical values to every facet of the hunters called Stats. The optimisers as the name suggested took these values, these stats and made the optimal build for the hunters, telling them where to invest skill points and which skills and abilities were best suited for them. They Optimised and they saved lives.
Dorian made it to the Hub and entered to find everyone already waiting for him and armed. A gaunt looking bespectacled woman wheeled her way out and looked up on the men before her. The last Optimiser. With a strong voice unbroken by time and circumstances, “I sanction this,” she pronounced.
There was no need to question what 'this' was. The hunters were on the prowl and death had come for their prey.
——————
Victor Dawson was the boss of the Terror Clique crime family. He hated the name yet he saw the necessity for it. One had to be tough when dealing with people and for people who once fought demons and had some alien computer in their head, he had to be exceptionally so. His recent job and the reason why he'd brought his bruisers along was a strange one. Somebody had significantly fattened his wallet and only asked him to screw over some pissant who was too big for his breeches. Victor tried to never put personal feelings into his dealings and preferred to deal with things clinically, but this little shit had it coming.
And for the first time, he knew he was going to love breaking one of the so called former saviours of humanity. He licked his lips with glee, he couldn't wait.
Victor knew something was wrong when one of his bruisers grabbed his throat and fell to his knees gurgling. He was about to ask what was wrong when the figures descended from the shadows and onto his men. Victor watched in mounting horror as his men were carved apart and the sharp smell of blood filled the air. Victor drew his gun and lined up a shot to one of the figures when he felt a sting on his wrist. He quizzically looked at his arm and found a stump where his hand should be. Victor opened his mouth to scream and a length of iron was shoved into his mouth and out the back of his skull.
The Terror Clique family was no more.
——————
As Dorian and the other hunters moved to begin disposing the bodies of the mobsters, his wrist terminal beeped a notification. Dorian flicked his wrist and quickly read it through then froze. The message was from the Kowloon City Power Plant and his interview was scheduled for the very next day. With deft fingers, Dorian begun stripping one of the mobsters of their suit he thought would fit him best.
“Uh Dorian, what are you doing?” Dan asked puzzled.
Dorian yanked off the man's shoes and replied, “I have an interview coming up tomorrow and it's not like he's gonna need it. ”
With his grisly work done, Dorian helped his fellow hunters bury the bodies and then left for home, using his meagre credits to buy a detergent to get the blood out of the suit. He had an interview tomorrow.