The phone rang, not all that uncommon although when I answered it this time it wasn’t a voice I’m all that familure with yet.

"Spectre?"

"Yes"

"I have a job for you."

The voice belonged to a female Brain Waster named Wratha. She'd been on loan to the squad from a Nec at Dark Lament as our financier. I'd noticed that the other wasters of the squad would try to break their own necks just to get a look at this female.

She has the right shape that’s for sure, but I wonder if she could survive the Chase.

"What's the job?"

I am more than a little curios as to why she’s coming straight to me rather than our Investigator squad leader Drago, But mine is not to ask why.

"It’s a solo kind of thing one that is perfect for your... Skills...

I mean to say that you are trained for this kind of thing."

I’m getting annoyed slightly by the way she is avoiding the actual question. Why is it that these long-pigs can never just say what they mean?

"Spill it Wratha."

"It’s a termination warrant for an individual believed to be involved in the skin trade."

Again I think to myself, 'was that so hard?' Long-Pigs...

"Yes" I tell her so she won’t have time to drole this out any longer, "Send the file over."

The file arrives within the hour and is delivered by some low level secretary, she’s thin, too thin, she'd never survive. Inside the file are all the necessary forms, the BPN sheet, the Termination Sheet, as well as some recent photographs of the person. A Mr. Justin Harper, Human. I also note the last known address and physical description of the prey, Short even by human standards, A little fleshy and almost bald on top. Not my most worthy of Prey but a job is a job.

I gather my rifle case, ammo, and pistol. Put on my Delta Grey Armor and head to the district the prey is rumored to inhabit. All of which takes little time at all and I’m on the road well before mid day. I head to central down town with little to no resistance, not that I would expect any when I travel by rooftops. I’ve found that’s the easiest way to get around without drawing attention to yourself. Besides someone like me has learned not to travel the game trails. It’s a habit that I have grown accustom to over the last several months. It’s something of an oddity really. On my home planet we didn’t have many buildings. Let alone several levels of skyscrapers all stacked one on top of another. However I can recall from my youth a type of beast we called Pran Groar, a feline animal that used to scale the large Frewen trees in the Chkar Mountains, with the greatest of ease. Sometimes I try to liken myself to them and move as they do threw the rooftops. As I come to a breech in the buildings my mind wonders back to the first time I took a Pran Groar in the hunt.

I was six years old at the time. My father had issued the hunt to me by the rites of the Cult of The Hunter. I was to earn my weapons this day. I had chosen serrated short blades attached to my forearms. They had suited me quite well with the fighting style of my tribe. We Runan are great hunters and honored among our people. I was to travel to the mountains and stay there until I had made a kill. I had watched many of my elder tribesmen go on similar test and never return. Their weapons would be missed. With my two blades and a crossbow to hunt with and a small bag across my back, I struck out at dawn to make my trek to the mountain range. The winds were up this day and that was a good sign. I hunter can pass right over a drift and the winds would cover their tracks almost in an instant. It wasn’t long before I happened upon a flock of Darp, they are a migratory flightless type of bird and I was quickly able to fell 3 of them before the rest got away, I always was a good shot. They would make a good meal. As evening drew closer I had made my way to the shadow of that great mountain range and found a cave to shelter in for the night. After building a fire and plucking the first of birds it became very obvious that I was not alone in this cave. The cave was the lair of the selfsame beast I sought! Reaching over the fire to put the bird on the spit I had built I had heard the first tell tale sounds of claws on stone. Gathering my strength and wits about me I glanced at my blades I had not removed them from my wrists. Slowing turning to match the glare of the two red glowing feral eyes I had finally found that worthy prey I had so longed for. The beast was over 1.5 meters tall at the shoulder and well over 3 meters long from nose to tip of tail. It the firelight I could see the musculature of the beast lean and strong. Also agile and fast. I felt my heart beat slow and my entire body focused and poised for action. The great cat leaped at me forepaws outstretched each with razor sharp claws. Diving back with the attack I slammed my both my blades up as hard as I could feeling resistance I had known I hit my mark. Landing on my back with the weight of the cat pressing down on me, I rolled to my left and kicked as hard as I could tossing the beast to the ground beside me. Still dazed by the impact of the ground I staggered to my feet, but so did the beast. I had hit my mark yes but I had not killed it. The roar it let loose then almost deafened me in the confines of the cave. Taking a step back my right leg toppled my would-be meal into the fire. The Spit! I grabbed the pointed stick I had sharpened to cook my bird on and with the meat still on it raised it just in time to gab the point deep into the open oncoming mouth of the cat. This time it fell and stayed down. I had not noticed until that moment that one of the great paws of the thing had caught my right shoulder in the roll. I was bleeding openly down my back. It was a pain and a scar that I still to this day wear with pride. I slept well that night and as proof of my kill I skinned the Great Cat and wore his pelt as my own on my return home.

I shoot a line from my climbing gear and swing over to the next building making the breech as easily as the Pran Groar leaping from limb to limb and continue on my way. Three rooftops later I catch the sounds of younglings playing at the hunt. One was darting here and there. While two others hid in various places amongst the roofs outcroppings and maintenance sheds. The “hunter” a young female running around giggling looking here and there appears to be much younger than the other two males. It’s only right that I help her out. Watching for a short while its plain to see that this young female will require some training in the hunt. So I make myself known to her. She gives a start as she realizes that a fully grown individual is standing right behind her. “It’s ok little one be not afraid. A hunter should never show fear. I mean you no harm.” The child relaxes a bit but I can sense that she is not accustomed to having strangers on her roof. “Do you hunt the males?” I ask. Quizzically she fumbles the question around in her head. “Yea I’m playing with my older brother and his friend from across the hall. They’re hiding but I can’t find them” she replies. I give the young huntress a few tips about stalking prey. Like using the water that has pooled as a reflective surface, and how to look for shadows that are casts along the roof that give away some ones position. Little things that can help her in her hunt. After the short lesson I climb into my spot of watching to see how my young charge will fair. Once again I scan the roof for the prey. I spot one male right away a boy of mid teens with light brown hair stuck down by the rains. He is hiding under the outcropping on the inside of the roofs design. With the ease of my suit I climb to just above the boy and notice that he has a balloon filled with water in hand. Ah! Not just a game of Hunter Prey but an ambush! I can’t let this chance pass me by! Gathering a deep breath I let loose with a roar of the Bears of my home world. Sending the boy almost a full meter into the air throwing the water balloon into the air and coming straight back down on top of him, drenching him all the more. With his legs moving as fast as they can carry him he makes straight for the roof door to the landings down below. Feeling justified and a little more amused I carry on. Glancing back to see the female youth laughing hysterically at the elder would-be ambusher.

The address that I was given was easy enough to pin point, and I was pleased to find that it was at the end of a long street, Maybe I can challenge myself at least, if this warm blood can’t do it for me. I find myself a nice little cat walk roughly 1.4 kilometers away and 14 stories off the street and settle in. I lay my pad down, pull my sand sock out and place it under the forefront of my stock. I’ve found that a sock filled with sand makes a better rest for my rifle than does a bipod. With a bipod at this angle I would be forced to raise up to make my shot and then reveal my position all the more. It’s not hard for me to adjust my rifle to the correct angel and I pan over the entire apartment face with little to no movement at all. Even at this range I need to be mindful of this ever constant rain so that it will not throw off my shot. The File said that the Prey would be on the 7th floor, 4th apt, from the left. So I count the windows. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 up, and 2.4.6.8 across.

Bingo!

Numbers 7 and 8 will be the ones I watch. Vision modes reveal no one home. Well just as well, I can use the rest after our last excursion into lower downtown. My left shoulder still aches a little in the mornings to remind me of it. So I settle in and let my mind drift on past hunts.

The Skin Trade, Slap and Tickle. I’ve had a run in with these types before. Only then it was an auction house where the long-pigs sold the younglings to the highest bidder. And they call me primitive! HAH! At least our females have the choice to Chase, these younglings where used well before their time. I had many good kills that day. I can remember having to clean my snap blades for a long time afterwards to make sure I got all the pieces of flesh and blood off. Doing so had garnered no small attention from my neighbors, since I did it outside of my apartment. What get blood and flesh on my clean floor and furniture? Hardly!

The apartment was ablaze with color dancing on the walls from the television the in the right hand window. It was obviously the main living room. With two recliner chairs and an empty bookshelf on the far wall. In the brighter colors I could tell that this prey did not keep a tidy home.

Hours pass. I keep my scope trained on the two possible windows that my prey may make the mistake to walk in front of and I slow my metabolism to almost a standstill. My breathing becomes shallow and my body relaxes to the point where I can actually feel the slow and rhythmic pulse of my heart as it slows down. And I wait.

A light flicks on, someone is home. I take a moment to bring my body back to full awareness and begin scanning the apt. In the light I can now clearly see the two chairs torn and dirty with some kind of adhesive strip to hold them together. The bookshelf on the far wall isn’t empty like I first thought but littered with empty bottles, food wrappers and Slayer knows what else. Indeed someone or some couple is obviously in the residence. I notice the humanoid figures moving about the Apt. and can see that there are defiantly two individuals there. The one, larger in the middle than in stature. The other is almost a wisp of a thing. Small and petite. Another light flicks on this time from the other window and I can immediately tell this is a bedroom of sorts. The larger form stays in what can only be the doorway and ushers the petite form inside. I catch a glimpse, looks like this dirt bag has brought his work home with him. And this “work” is no older then the Huntress who I crossed paths with not many roof tops ago. My BPN is only for the male, but I can’t help but thinking should I save this youngling the trouble of being used? I mean I could as easily make two shots instead of one. Curious. But I can’t get my shot! Oh I can see through the window well enough but I have no shot! All I can do is wait.

The light goes out and I can make out the outline of the two for quite some time. I’m impressed the youngling actually fought and quite a bit from what I can tell. But in the end the child was just too overwhelmed by the sheer size and bulk of the man. This is not how one should handle their prey there is no honor in this. I think I shall enjoy this kill. If for nothing else at least I will be ridding the world of one less predator. Normally I don’t care much either way about my prey. On my world we hunt to survive. Here I hunt for credits so I can survive. It’s all a matter of perspective I guess.

Forty-five minutes pass and I now have what I’ve been waiting for. The prey, this Justin Harper has made his final mistake. He went to his window and lit what I can only assume was a flip. That gave me everything I needed to make visual confirmation. An aged man I’d guess forty plus human years. This photograph did not display the vile skin bag I see now. Unshaven, Bald except for the halo around his ears, with beady little eyes that are all too close together for his face, and fleshy like that of one who sits and watches TV all day. Aiming for his right eye, I slowly squeeze the trigger. The sound of the firing pin slamming home with just the slightest whisper of a sound tells me that the shot has been made. Still watching threw my scope I see the head of my target rock back, and only a moment later slump the floor lifeless. Another kill made.

I exhale and wonder if I should notify anyone about the youngling in the residence. Nah the Shivers will clean her up too. I place the call, gather my things and head home.

Time for Gore Zone isn’t it?