Snowblood

Chapter 2: Pursuant

Most municipalities offered bounties on dead chimaeras, whoever brought them in.  The payment varied according to how dangerous the creature was, based on its teeth and other offensive capabilities.  Small grass-eaters with no fangs, venom, or acid brought in five bucks a head.  A coyote-bramble hybrid big enough to snatch pets or God forbid, toddlers, complete with paralyzing secretions on its thorny hide—five thousand.   An ordinary citizen might be able to take out one of those, if they had heavy gloves and a baseball bat.  That was how Matthew Killian Darrow had bought his first car.   Oak-reptile-cougars that spat sulfuric acid could fetch fifty thousand, but by then you were into the territory of the professional Pursuant, those who were trained, licensed and cleared to take on contract work.

"Five hundred thousand!" The newbie whistled.   "What are we going up against?"

"You'll see," Matthew Darrow said, looking over the kid in his shiny new gear.   To be licensed, a trainee had to spend at least a hundred and twenty hours in the field with a seasoned professional who had been a Pursuant for at least five years, plus take classes and pass tests, unless they were ex-military.  This kid wasn't ex-military, and he was so new he practically still had eggshell on his head.    But if he didn't take at least one trainee a year, they could revoke his license, and he wasn't going to let that happen. 

That assumed there was someone who wanted to train with him, of course.  After what happened two years ago, last year no one wanted to.  But this kid had no objections, and he hadn't said anything to indicate he even knew about...that.  Perhaps Yukie was right, and people would forget. Provided nothing happened to stir their memories, that is.

"Don't forget, you only get to take home one-tenth of that while you're a trainee.  The rest of it gets divvied up between taxes, medical, Pursuant Union dues, tuition fees, insurance, reimbursement for outfitting you, and my instructor's fee until you're fully qualified."

"Still, fifty thousand!  Not bad for a day's work."

"Don't go celebrating yet.  Now, did you get all the gear on that list I gave you?  No omissions, no cheap-ass substitutions?"  he asked. 

"Yeah.  Every specification, to the last decimal points,"  the kid replied.

"And you're wearing it now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good.  Now you're going to take off all the outer gear and put it on again while I watch so I can be sure you didn't screw it up."  He folded his arms and took a stance which blocked the exit from the van.  As he was powerfully built and over six feet tall without his Pursuant's armored suit, he doubled how imposing he already was.

"...are you serious?"

"Don't worry.  Even if I was into guys, I wouldn't be into you.  You have until they tell us that the dome's in place. If you're not ready by then, I'll leave you behind and you don't get paid."

The kid grimaced.  "Okay."  He started unbuckling and unstrapping. 

"You got the gorget on backwards," Matthew commented.  "You need protection over the spine and base of the skull more than the trachea when something tries to bite your head off, and you'll want extra elasticity in front."

"Okay, I'm new at this, I get it." The kid continued to undo everything, but he stopped him again.

"Why did you break open the chlorophytum pack already?  You're supposed to wait until you're about to seal up prior to entry.  Those things only last ninety minutes.  You've wasted half an hour of oxygen."

"I...thought it didn't activate until you started breathing with the mask sealed up."

"No.  The clock starts ticking when the pack's opened.  You can replace a chloro pack without compromising the suit's seal, with practice.  Which means you can't, not yet. Bring spares. If we're in there that long, I'll switch packs for you.  Don't you go trying it," he glowered. "And what the hell is this?"