“The day dawned clear and cold. Birdsong traveled a great distance in the clear air, and stars could be seen clearly opposite the sun, as had been possible in days of yore, before the coming of science and technology. Evil, banished from without had taken up residence within the crumbling remains of fortresses and war machines gone by.

Get up, Sasha, or I'll read more.”

Oh hell, it was the Gloom, and he was reading that freaking lame author he was so fond of quoting to me; Nargle-bargle, or something. Guy was an ass.

“Gloom, with all due respect, it's my day off. You yourself gave me this day off, and such things are glorious treasures of the gods. So kindly sod off.”

He snapped that stupid book shut and strode over. My head pounded in time to his beat.

“Get. Up. Sasha.”

Each word was emphasized by a kick that had the pointed end of the Gloom's ridiculous boots digging for my heart through my ribs. For all of that, I could have ignored him, if not for the noise!

“Alright, alright, I'm up, I'm up.”

He continued ranting almost as if he hadn't heard me.

“Sheesh, I'm the leader of the Hunters; I have better things to so than to get drunk morons up so they can pound each other to paste in the arena. But no, you two idiots had to set up a match last night while drunk - again, and now there are so many bets riding on it that it would crash our economy to have you both sleep it off and forfeit.”

Wait, I had an arena match this morning? Who with? I had to stop drinking in Central. Was it somebody good?

“Come on, get up. You need to meet Dustin in the arena in 15 minutes or you forfeit.”

Oh, it was only Dustin. I could kill him later... when my head wasn't about to fall off.

“If you forfeit you'll cost Tonya a month's pay.”

Oh, shit!

“I'm up, I'm up! Where are my guns?!? Got any aspirin? Or some of that cure?”

The cure was the gloom's patented hangover cure. No, really. It was patented and sold in the gift shop downstairs, under his name. For all that it was made of essence of curdled death and damned souls, it worked, and worked in a matter of minutes. Perhaps it was the paprika too, what did I know about cooking?

I needed it, and needed it now. Tonya was one of the Gloom's old partners, (who wasn't old... may God have mercy on your shriveled soul if you implied that) Who went by the moniker of Plague. Guess what she could do with her generator? Not to mention she was insanely tough; I could shoot her with actual bullets, not the watered down crap I tended to use on people to avoid all those pesky murder charges, and she just shrugged them off.

She was my number one fan too. It was downright terrifying. If I made her lose cash, she would make me lose parts of myself I'd rather keep. Or maybe just camp outside my door to see whether I'd lost because I was sick or something.

The Gloom handed over a can of his juiced up sewer water with a lopsided grin. I drank it on the way out, and was proud of the fact I only wobbled a little. Most people drinking that crap would fall twitching to the floor, and foam at the mouth for a few. I was made of sterner stuff.

By the time we had made it to the arena, I was walking straight and more or less conscious, patting myself on the back as being one amazing guy... and found Dustin already there. Looking more than presentable, with a bevy of lovelies around him.

The arena was full and standing room only, mostly with off duty hunters, or those that claimed to be off duty. There had to be a few brave civilians in the crowd as well. I saw hands, my favorite bookie working the crowd, and gave him a nod.

And in my corner was... plague.

Life just wasn't fair. Right. Time to hurt someone, preferably him.

“You ready Sasha? You need some of Gloom's cure?”

“Already had it. It's fine. I don't need to be one hundred percent to do this; after all it's only Dustin.”

She gave me a long look, then nodded.

“Just remember not to kill him, OK?”

I scoffed loud enough so that everyone could hear me.

“Nah I''ll take it easy. If Dustin dies it'll be his own fault for being so weak.”

Dustin bristled predictably.

“I'm not weak you bastard! You're going down today!”

Flies could make such interesting noises, buzzing around. Even the loud ones.

“Whatever. Just beat him, Sasha... or I'll kill you.”

Delivered with a bright sunny face and an 'I'm-so-innocent-butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth' tone. Damn but plague could be scary. Not to mention as persistent as the flu. Fine, so she wanted a win, huh? Well so did I. A quick win, so I could go back to sleep.

According to the duel rules, we were required to start the duel 20 large steps away from each other; mid range, for one of us. That put Dustin at a momentary disadvantage, every match. Sometimes I backed up for more space. Some times I didn't. Today it was time to pull a trick I rarely used however. This time I would charge.

I usually only tried to use this trick once a year; not enough so he would come to expect it, but I usually wanted to end a fight quickly at least once. Sometimes it was a challenge not to use it more.

It opened up huge holes in his fighting style, but I wasn't his martial arts instructor, and he wouldn't listen to me even if I pointed it out. So why bother? It was someone else's problem. Gloom glared at us both.

“You two idiots ready?”

He nodded at exactly the same time as me. The bastard. I resolved to give him an extra shot just for that.

“Begin!”

Gloom was wrapped in shadows before the word finished slipping from him, and I didn't blame him; he knew what these duels between us were like.

I was off like... well like a shot from one of my guns, right towards Dustin's stupid, smug face. The comic surprise creeping over him in slow motion fuel to my hatred. Being hung over did not affect my draw in any way.

Hell, being half dead wouldn't affect my draw. I wasn't sure about fully dead yet, but I doubted it.

My guns came up, the one on the right sighting directly on his stupid weapon; two shots knocking it well wide of me. The left went under his chin.

I gave him a jaunty eye wiggle just as his brain caught up to the fact that he'd been beaten again, then shot once and removed the gun, letting him fall into the dirt. Then in keeping with my promise made to myself, I put another in his ribs. He twitched, but didn't react otherwise.

“Winner, Sasha.”

Glooms announcement was almost drowned out by the high pitched squee from my 'corner', where Plague was jumping up and down in a most interesting manner. If only she could just stop talking! Or hexing people, that would be great too.

The roar and groans of the crowd made me wince, Gloom's cure or no. The groans were from the morons that bet on Dustin. Fools like that deserved to lose their money; he never ever beat me. All those times people like to cite in the past were flukes, or didn't happen. Whatever, time to go back to bed.

“Sasha, a word?”

Uh oh. What did I do this time?

“What is it, Gloom?”

“There is a situation in the Urals I'd like you to investigate. I know you're due some down time, but I'm short hunters at the moment; Cedric was killed last week and Merp is on loan to Italy. Dustin is the only other one I could send and, well....”

He gave Dustin an experimental kick to the same ribs I'd shot. Dustin didn't even twitch this time.

“Yeah I get you. But you get to canvas around. If my team wants to come, great, but I'm not forcing them. They need the downtime more than I do. Me, I'm always ready. You know that.”

“Yeah I know, it's just.... No, never mind. Go get some sleep, so you can leave at first light tomorrow.”

“Yeah yeah, I'm going you nag.”

“Nag, is it? Get out before I challenge you, and get Plague to referee. I suppose I could even get her to play doctor afterward.”

Shudder. That was so far below the belt it wasn't funny. I took the hint, opening the arena doors so the medics could see to the moron.

Honestly the ribs would likely be the worst of it. His head was so hard the non lethal rounds barely knocked him out. And that only sometimes.

It was a good thing; after all, if he couldn't handle a friendly spar from one of us, how could he handle a witch? It was a simple case of tough love. The life of a hunter was usually brutal and brief.

The funny thing was, despite that we didn't have any lack of recruits; it was a pity so few survived to adulthood. Orphans like myself usually had the easiest time; we had nothing left to live for, and it showed in our training regime.

People who still had outside interests or a lack of dedication usually died within days of their first assignment. So what if those of us left were a little... off? We got the job done. Even if we had to be brutal and heartless ourselves.

Introspection was for morons too. What was I doing thinking about all this now?

I managed to make it back to my room, and locked the door this time to prevent interruptions. Not that it would stop the Gloom, but it stopped Plague – most of the time – and I knew she was following me. Waking up with her staring me in the face was just plain creepy. Almost as disturbing as her nick name for me; “cash-cow.”

I was a bull, if anything; large strong and virile!

On second though, propping a chair against the door knob was also a good idea.

That done, I flopped on my battered bed; clothes, guns, and all.

…........................................................................

Again, some jackass was pounding on my door. Jackasses and I needed to stop meeting like this. At least this time I was actually rested.

“Sasha, come on, get up boss-man.”

Ivan.

I muttered something. I wasn't sure what I was muttering, or who I was muttering it to, since Ivan couldn't hear me... but I did mutter it.

“Come on boss, it's morning. Time to get up and go. I have coffee. And whiskey. And whiskey in the coffee.”

A pretty tempting offer. He was right at least, it was time to get up. I wasn't even mad. I wouldn't tell him though, he might not gift me with bribes.

Opening the door I at least confirmed that it was indeed, my old buddy Ivan before I took the proffered drink and downed it. It was indeed whiskey coffee. An old recipe... from America; Kentucky I think.

“Wow, you're already dressed and ready to go...? No wait, silly me. Of course you slept in your clothes again.”

I handed the empty mug back to him with a shrug, then took his. He looked like he wanted to protest for all of a half a second before I downed his too.

“Of course. Why wouldn't I? Getting undressed is a waste of effort. Especially when I'm still hung over. I really only needed to be awake for ten minutes anyway.”

“Good. It is good you are in a good mood and ready. We should be going now. Maybe we can stop by my hometown before we go on to the backwoods, eh?”

“You mean your hometown is still standing?”

He nodded profusely.

“Yes. It is a small place, very backward, and no witches bother it. Was still standing last year at least. I can introduce you to my sister. She would like you, I think.”

“Is she cute?”

“She's larger than I am, and can out wrestle a bear. She might even be hairier than the bear.”

Ick.

“So she might be a sister in arms to Alicia.”

Ivan started helping me as I made sure my gear was packed. All I really did was swap out clothes. For some reason I was always hard on clothes, so I'd long since just kept new and clean ones around in case I had a rush job.

“Quite, but she is nice, and you need a woman in your life.”

“One plague is enough, thanks.”

His silence conceded the point.

One of these days I really should ask the Gloom what Plague's major damage was. Why was she so focused on me? I didn't get it. But of course, it was Plague. Gloom would tell her I asked, and I'd be hexed into half death the rest of my life.

I suspected I knew anyway; I was always good for betting on and winning money from. I could live with that. Hmm, speaking of...

“Alicia coming?”

There really wasn't any doubt; Ivan was here, so he was coming. Alicia on the other hand....

“Yeah she's waiting for us in the main hall. You look to be ready here.”

I eyed my gear, then added more ammo.

“Now I am, yes.”

I didn't want to use my generator power on anything mundane, even the mutant wolves of the Urals. I'd heard the rumors about what that sort of energy did to them. Of course those same rumors had the witches themselves mutating them. I wasn't sure I believed that one.

I mean if they had, why hadn't the witches used them to sweep down from the Urals and kill everything alive in their way? They probably could.

We hit the main hall, the crowd parting before us to make it easy. I almost forgot, but then the whiskey kicked in, so I doubled back to the front desk.

“Got a mission file for me?”

The current attendant was a young fresh faced academy student type. I gave her a week.

“Of course sir!”

She handed me a file that was damn near a book, dropping it. What the hell was I supposed to do with this? I guess it would be good fire tinder. Oh well.

“Let's go people, day is wasting! I want to be on the train within the hour.”

Granted the station was only fifteen minutes away, tops... but the way the bearded lady could dawdle, it could easily be that long. She gave me that look of hers, mustache bristling.

“Sheesh, window shop one time and hear about it forever. It was a great dress!”

“You stared at it for a solid hour. Literally, I timed you.”

“...and?”

“And we found out after you bought it, that it clashed with your beard. The men of the ball were shocked that you could be so tacky, to say the least.”

“Remind me why I haven't killed you yet?”

“Because I'm your boss, and you can't? Because Dustin could tie you up in knots, and I can take him out in – Ivan how many seconds was it yesterday?”

“Six.”

“Right! Six seconds?”

She grumbled. And pouted. And grumbled some more. Which helped us make good time, since with her head down grumbling at me, she didn't see the assorted flashy items for sale on the way to the train station. I swear she had the soul of a tourist. Then again she had the fashion sense too, so I guess it matched.

Who buys pink chiffon as an adult, with lace no less? She looked like a tube of candy lipstick in that thing. But there was something more important.

“Really? Six seconds?”

I thought it had been shorter than that. I was slipping or something.

“Yes, Six seconds, mostly time spent closing distance. The actual time spent firing shots was just under one second, all told. I couldn't get a completely accurate time, but perhaps .8 seconds.”

Damn. An eight-tenths of a second was a little slow to in my opinion. It should be six-tenths. Oh well, just no help for it; I needed more practice. Good thing I never ran out of good quality moving targets.

We didn't need to buy tickets; the trains were clearly marked. I ignored the screaming and running of the lemmings, and marched us to the train we needed. Russia here we come. I didn't open the file until I was safely ensconced in an otherwise empty car, well on our way.

The first paragraph said it all.

Rumors only, actual evidence was sketchy... but rumors that my mother and sister were in the Urals. Those same rumors also place several other witches there, carving out their own fiefdoms. Rumors brought in by superstitious peasants, but the disappearances were real enough. I waved the file at Ivan.

“Your village isn't close to this, is it?”

He didn't look surprised, which meant that he'd already read it.

“No, my village is in the foothills; this is many miles away from them. However it is interesting. What could witches want with cold mountains far away from the civilization they hate? That rnage is inhospitable, even to them.”

“Unless you're powerful enough not to care about the laws of nature.”

Something that fit both my mother and sister, all over. Both had over a dozen hunter kills to their credit, and probably thousands of civilian deaths. For all that power though, I couldn't shake the feeling that they liked to run from me. I always arrived a little too late to stop either of them. And last time my mentor had met my mother, well....

While one had died, the other had been so injured in the fight she hadn't been seen since.

And now there was an eyewitness report that placed her in the Urals.

I was nowhere near as good as my teacher had been; but I owed it to her to try and finish what she started, even if dear old mom and I didn't have prior history. I was giddy at the prospect; I would not lose.

….............................................

Wrapped in my comforting gloom, the hallmark of my power, I waited. There were some people that creeped even me, the acknowledged master of shadows, right the fuck out. My next 'guest' was one of them.

Plague showed it in. Not he or she, it. Marcus “Merlin” DeStaglio, one of the most brilliant minds to be born in any century... and crazy as hell. He had come up with a few theories regarding witch powers after redesigning the generators and truly mind boggling amounts of study and vivisection.

And then promptly applied those same theories to himself in an experiment that I felt should never be repeated. The experiment had been a qualified success, of a sort. Merlin had indeed become a little closer to it's namesake, able to manipulate small objects like pens and scalpels with much concentration.

Merlin had also gained a ghost of a hat, more sized to a doll than to a human, but a small wispy beret hidden among all that hair.

The fact that Merlin had become essentially both genders; with small breasts, a childlike body, and an equally small flacid penis was disregarded, if not treated by it with outright disdain. It dressed as a she, being small and childlike in form, the small dresses fit. And to Merlin's everlasting amusement, it served as lolicon attractant.

I turned my back on what went on behind closed doors as a matter of course among my own, but Merlin would be dead before I could blink if not for that mind, steadily working away. It had Emil Saum's ear though, and I had to admit the ideas were interesting.

If Snipe ever found out what I was thinking though, she'd come back from the grave to kick my ass.

“Well?”

That high pitched voice also put me on edge.

“He is almost perfect for our use. He has the genes, his lineage is clear. It runs strong within his family.”

I stared pointedly; it didn't react at all, staring back placidly at me. Which meant I was forced to ask.

“And the... side effects?”

“There shouldn't be any. I was... unsuitable for the experiment. I did not possess all the genes necessary. Even now, with all my manipulations, the power gained is negligible. He is such a strong candidate that such manipulations would be redundant. He has the genes, and is alive as a male, that is all the evidence we need; all other male children I've come across like him are stillborn. I would have... benefited from knowing of his existence before my own practical experiments took place.”

Like sniper would let you anywhere near Sasha.

“And that alone explains why you didn't know.”

It nodded, unperturbed. Something was seriously wrong with this... thing. Why was I even considering this?

“Right. Well, drastic measures need be taken in our circumstances. Under current models we will lose the war completely within a year; this is necessary. I am glad you now see reason. So when can I...”

“You can't. Sasha has to agree. The choice is his. And since he's currently on a mission, you'll just have to wait a little longer.”

It was the only way I would be able to live with myself, going forward with this. Hurry up Sasha, make this choice unnecessary.