The Art of the Hunt

Art of the Hunt

Darkness. Silence.

How long has he been in transit? Hours? Days even?

He hears the feminine voice on the intercom. An alluring one at that.

"We're close to Chernobog. Wake the dog up."

Dog. A title meant for mockery. Was he truly someone's pet to be unleashed upon their enemies?

Yes.

His heads up display lights up. Strings of numbers and letters flash before his crimson red eyes, deciphering them into a phrase.

=[ELIMINATE TARGET]=

A faint smile on his lips. More random numbers and letters flash before dissolving to form another phrase.

=[PAYMENT WILL BE DEPOSITED AFTER CONFIRMATION OF ELIMINATION]=

He was the newest Hound from a line of mercenaries hired by an enigmatic Handler. His job was to "dispose" of anyone who threatened her.

One last phrase appeared on his HUD.

=[DO NOT FAIL ME.]=

Ah, words that motivate him.

...

Chernobog is in chaos. Masked men wearing white began to appear from nowhere. Out of sewers, alleyways and dropships they marched.

What was the Ursus police force doing in all of this?

Getting slaughtered.

Bloody close quarters fighting is the norm here, as civilians were caught in the crossfire.

What was once a vibrant mobile city, was suddenly turning into a warzone. Ursus forces desparately holding the tide of the masked men's advance.

They were losing.

Inch by inch, more of the city fell into the hands of these invaders. Each second, more and more disgruntled soldiers of the organization known as Reunion began to pour out from where the remaining Ursus forces least expected it.

...

In a bombed out apartment building, a Vulpo hid underneath a table as he saw more masked troops patrolling the area.

He's been on the run for awhile now. After owing a few hundred thousand LMD to some hotshot from Victoria due to some unfortunate luck in the casinos, she sicced her hounds on him.

What was her title again? Handler? No point in trying to remember right now.

He's been evading them ever since, his keen senses an advantage when facing assassins. They seem to have lost his trail after he went into Chernobog.

He thought he could live out a peaceful life on this city. But then some folks from a group called Reunion began to trash the place.

They even trashed his shop!

The blue-haired Vulpo sighed in frustration. He wanted a vacation, but what he needed right now was an escape plan.

He was a relatively powerful Arts caster and by extension, an infected. Of course, he hid his condition as best he could from everyone on Chernobog.

But that didn't stop them from hurling insults at him. The real reason he moved here was to lose the Handler's hounds.

Slithering through the shadows as best he can, evading most of their patrols in the process. He came across a less ruined building. Another apartment block it seems.

He spotted a hole in the wall and debating whether or not to go through it, he did. Being sure not to make any unnecessary noise.

...