Falling Into Spider Webs (Part 1)

"When you're huntin' somepin you're a hunter, an' you're strong. Can't nobody beat a hunter. But when you get hunted - that's different. Somepin happens to you. You ain't strong: maybe you're fierce, but you ain't strong."

- John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

December 24, 2015 " Just Prior to Midnight

Mach was tired. Not only had he been busy as a bee in spring lately spreading cheer during the Yuletide holiday but he'd been buried in work by his own volition so as to keep him occupied. So much had been happening and so much more was still going on with the 'Sanguine Hunt' case that he'd been embroiled in for the past months. Arrests had been made, paperwork completed ad nauseam, criminals put down, and no small amount of ground pounding had happened, but at last the man could see the end of the tunnel. He had names, he had a list of leads to follow, and one of those would lead him back to the source of all this. He was so close to the finish he could taste it....but he wasn't there yet. Once he'd track down the base of operations from the list of leads he knew he was going to have to gather intelligence quickly and formulate a plan of action so as to get more resources from back home. Sure, he personally had the strength of a tank at his disposal with his cantrips, potions, and casters but to take down a whole cult of magic sensitives the man knew he was going to need support. At least a few more hunters, maybe a call in to Hope Jubal to get some Watch background and crowd support. But soon he could close the book on this case, know that those he cared about would no longer be threatened by the mad machinations of this cult and that he could return to life as he knew it.

Of course he still didn't have a definitive motive for this cult, though he certainly had enough information to formulate a pretty good guess for all this madness. Not only had he started greasing palms and putting out feelers, seeing what may bloom from the leads, but he had also spent a fair amount of time in the hunter's agency satellite office doing research on the list of names he'd gotten. And some of the names pulled from the warehouse raid he'd conducted with Sarai, the club debacle he'd done with Hope, and even his own little investigations had come up with big, flashing red flags in the U.T.R.A. and U.T.R.F.A. criminal databases. Yorada Rister, Ardec Ilmartyr, Jordek Ranstein " all known terrorists on the national and international watch lists. Combined they had been linked with more than several dozen acts of major domestic and international terrorism involving magic against government, civilian, military, and infrastructure. 'Key suspects of interest' was how the files listed them as; ones so nasty and so involved in the violent mage rebellions that they were flagged for retrieval versus simply being considered under the judgment of the hunter that brought them in or okay to be fed a bullet on sight as they so deserved. It was an odd thing to think someone was so reviled and horrible that others just had to talk to them but then what other time could you really talk to a true and proper monster so easily' Past those three, a half dozen more of the names given up were associated with extremist watch lists or were known members of terrorist cells. Putting it all together it was clear that this group had no kind and fluffy notions for the government he served and had no qualms crushing anyone, innocent or not, underfoot that got in the way of their bloody ideals.

Now, mind, Mach wasn't exactly a real nationalistic or patriotic sort. Given his disciplinary record and flagrant disregard for the authority which he was so a part of it was easy to write him off as almost being anarchistic, but he could at least see the bigger picture. The system was deeply flawed and full of bigotry, but it still had merit and purpose. Without it he was sure true anarchy would rise giving way to a grand culling due to social Darwinism until finally an arcane hegemony rose to rule those left over with an iron fist. And this wasn't simply paranoid, conservative propaganda that he'd for some reason taken to heart....it was history; long, bloody, repeated history. The exact sort of bloody affair had happened to nations throughout the ages, was what lead to the creation of the modern Royal Scepter Kingdoms out on western Gamerna. And the notion that 'might makes right' as a principle tenant of any ruling body was not something the schmooze could get behind in any sense. No, he'd seen the vision for the future that these extremists held, saw the senseless violence that occurred during the Mage Rebellions and even that which occurred here; the 'ends justify the means' logic. These people were bad news no matter how you cut it....but as for the worship of a dead Elder God that still didn't make a lick of sense.

Shaking his head mildly he worked to push all those thoughts aside for the moment as he tiredly climbed the steps up to his government issued apartment. It wasn't like worrying over this right now was going to do anything but make his head hurt even worse. No, it was his intention to snag a few files from his main terminal, maybe catch a shower to wash off some of the bureaucracy that was sticking to him, perhaps find himself a drink or three, and then....yeah. He still wasn't sure where he stood on anything really after his life underwent a double paradigm shift during the past few months without even depressing the clutch. No real home, no real family, no real stability....just a lot of crazy, crazy legs under the water as he glided along like a duck upon the pond of existence. But....making due was what he did best. And it wasn't like he was totally without any sort of support. There were people whom he cared deeply for, folks he was learning to trust, friends he could have a laugh with, and enough holiday cheer to choke a horse! Hell, it was thanks to such that he even had a choice as to how he'd have to decide to spend the most festive day of Christmas rather than simply avoiding everyone. Where he would go, who he would spend it with, what he was going to do with the Charlie Brown stick bush that he'd bought himself....they were questions that helped to lift his spirits some from the pit of self-loathing where they typically sat thanks to everything that had went down with Serah. Helped....but didn't erase.

Rounding another banister he trudged up the steps, blues lazily ticking about the drab looking interior of the building. The apartment, the building, the neighborhood itself that he wandered was pretty much nondescript at best neither being too nice or too nasty and most certainly drab. A forgettable sort of place which helped the installed wards around the area to help others 'forget' about tracking the hunter or the apartment. It was a powerful spell weave which granted the man, or any hunter that used that apartment really, some small measure of comfort and ease. A safe haven in the sea of danger that his profession happened to breed. Of course the ward was a little weaker thanks to him scavenging some of the barriers components so as to put up just as impressive a ward network around" well, what once was Serah's and his home down at the beach. Now" Now he had an impressive ward and sentry system guarding a pile of sandy ash. The best laid plans" though he did still get a kick out of chucking some magic at the empty lot while he was fixing his own beach house there. Nothing like watching coconut tree's squawk to put a touch of grin on a person!

Pulling past the last barrister he got off at his landing and headed with leaded feet down the hall to his apartment. He would most certainly catch a shower, a nod to himself as if to verify this fact as he pawed about lazily for his runed key which would grant him access to that minimalist oasis. Cigarettes, lighter, dog tags with skeleton key, lockpick set....the list of felt items continued without a thought, blue eyes wandering aimlessly until something caught his attention. A quick shift of movement that shouldn't have been registered out of the corner of his vision. Steps slowed as his hackles tingled, wariness taking hold until the resounding chime of a bell announced the apparition once more as it leaped out before him.

Mrow~

There was a blink before a sigh escaped taking with it that tension, blue eyes blue falling upon the black cat that presented itself before him with an amber gaze stare in return. "Gave me a start you little shit. Looking for Sir Lemon are you? Her little poker buddy?" A thin grin pulled on him as he knelt, hand reaching out to the creature so as to scratch gently behind its ear. The feline canted it's head away for a moment before leaning into that scritching, pleased purr emanating from the creature. "Like that' Yeaaaah, you're no friend of Sir Lemon....she's a bitch and you're a nice kitty..." A lazy chuckle rumbled softly from the hunter though it was short lived as the new acquaintance fell to its haunches to begin cleaning itself in a way that would make any lonely heart jealous. Crestfallen grin thinned as he drew back his hand from the occupied one. "....or not." With a smirk and shake of head he simply rose up and set to pace again for his apartment, feeling just a little silly for letting the heebie-jeebies take hold as they did.

"Come on Mach, your letting all this crap get to you....just gotta get it all put together, call in the cavalry, and put all this behind me....maybe have a mojito party after.? A chuckle left him; he was rather fond of that idea. When all this was behind him he could focus once more on just being Mach for better or for worse depending ones view of such. Living the dream or at least going back to a more mundane schedule of drinking, schmoozing, and occasional bouts of folks trying to blow him up! Drawing out the keys from his pocket he barely perceived the absence of sound in the hallway; or the strange, sick sound of something popping, squelching. He hardly had time to react to those alarms that suddenly rose up in his mind, the panic that told him danger. Blues snapped about to the cat just in time to see its head roll away, hear the tingle of bells as they hit the floor before there was the sharp blossom of pain.

Falling Into Spider Webs (Part 3)

"It is said that men condemned to death are subject to sudden moments of elation; as if, like moths in the fire, their destruction were coincidental with attainment."

- John le Carr", The Spy Who Came In from the Cold

"Bim bom." She smiled cheekily at him as she made that approving tone. It had always bothered him why they went after the demoness as they did. The first time he figured they were just trying to rub someone out who had participated in the capture of one of their own....were trying to hurt him too since he had obvious budding feelings for her. He had attributed such to the second attack as well though it didn't really feel quite right. Something had just felt off, the way they attacked them separately' something in his gut told him to be wary but he hadn't. He brought back Sarai to this apartment after that mage near cut her to ribbons, intent to help tend to her wounds....wounds inflicted by a crimson servant. Why hadn't he realized! She was covered in blood, soaked in the stuff....but that didn't mean it had to be all hers.

Anger cut through that fog of pain, a growl forming on him as fingers flexed. "Y-you bastards! Go-going after my friends to get at me..."

The woman seemed delighted at his response, an airy laugh leaving her as he ground his teeth. "Well it was easy. She smelled like you, had your essence on her for such a time, and vanished with you a fair bit early on obviously coming to this rats nest. She made the perfect target. Of course the other one helped a lot too! The pink and pale eyed one who's house you so lovingly used to shack up in as well."

Mach could almost taste the hate that filled him at those words though he still barked out a haughty laugh. "B-Bullshit. Serah wouldn't help you? she's-"

"Not the bitch she claims to be?" The sad, pitying coo contrasted ugly with the malevolent humor that twinkled in the woman's eyes. "Sadly no, at least not in that she'd willingly sell you out to us. But carelessly doing so?" And with those words red painted nails drew something from the clutch she carried: small, lumpy, blackened, and looking very much like a key to his apartment. He fought against the surprise that strained against his stoic fa"ade and the anger and guilt that would have washed right on over. Serah had told him that she no longer had a key to his place; and he had meant to snap the wards that bound the key to his apartment. A key that nulled the effects of the illusion spells and protection wards of the apartment on whoever held it. But with how distracted he'd been with everything going on he'd just....forgot. And he never even thought to consider that what she meant by not having one was that it had been in the home when it burnt down" and thus could have still been in the ashes just waiting for someone to dig it up manually.

The hunter's organs screamed as he shifted, almost tearing himself apart as he shifted wanting to hit this one. His teeth ground as rage solidly took his rugged features. "I'm going to..."

"To what? Tear yourself free and bleed before my feet?" She laughed, delighted at his outrage. Mach so wanted to give in to that hate and tear her a new one, his body wanting to succumb to that pain. But he....he forced himself to stay focused on what had to be done....but at this point it was looking more and more that the best he may get to do is take this one down with him though this thought stirred a fear that he'd not had for such a long time. Snagging that ampule from his belt he was already snapping the top off as he charged it to his lips. He had to ride this surprise, drop that dispel potion that would destabilize this crimson servant within him, allow him to...

The blur of motion that crossed his vision was near imprecievably fast, the lance piercing his hand right before his very eyes causing that vial to fall away. That was his last hope....his one chance to get out of this intact, to be able to fight back. Panic, fear, rage, agony....he wasn't sure what if not all of these flashed upon his features. "You most certainly impress me, but don't think I underestimate you. I was curious what you were trying to pull. It is a little disappointing but really, the fact that you're still standing; still able to think about fighting says something about you. Inhuman really."

Something changed. He could feel that pain growing, multiplying in magnitude as it radiated out from those points where he was speared through to wash over his entire body, his entire being. A gasping whimper escaped him, stole his breath by the sheer agony that threatened to drown him. He tried to fight against it, tried to push the pain away. It was all in his mind after all, but this was like trying to fight the ocean with a sand bucket. Having only one thing left in his arsenal he played it, a kick shot out for where he last saw the woman before the pain clenched his eyes. He felt that which was within him strain against his organs making him feel sick, felt the difference between the wash of pain that took him and the sharp acuity of that actually associated with destruction, and something more. A pressure against his foot that told him he'd made contact with the woman. This galvanized him to take another blind shot, eyes straining to open just to see the world lurch and shift, feel his body get dragged to the ground by those crimson lances lodged within him drawing a cry of pain from him. The woman sneered as she loomed over him, her expression ugly as she knelt down with something in hand. No....NO! He tried to struggle as he could, feeling the flesh of his hand ripping and tearing off that thorny lance...

There was a prick, a stab into his arm and the feeling of deathly cold liquid cement getting pushed between muscles. The hunter had to fight, had to get away or else....or else....The vim and vigor drained from his struggle, washing beneath the blankets of pain and that woolen feeling that spread over him, smothering him. His vision blurred as Mach felt his focus melt away, his grasp on the conscious world slipping through his fingers until finally he succumbed to the darkness.

- - - - -

George wearily pushed out from his apartment; the door pulled shut and locked behind. It was nearly time for him to start his shift down at the docks and if he were late again he'd likely get laid off for sure this time. Not that he really cared about that, he was only doing it for the money after all so as he could continue eking out a living. Unlike some residents....this thought bitter as a brown eyed gaze was cast to the door of the bastard just down the hall from him. Some soldier type he reckoned.....or one of them sorts at least as he'd seen a number go through the apartment in question during his time. He'd heard a ruckus coming from it an hour past but then he'd heard no shortage of ruckus' coming from that apartment....the man that occupied it apparently one hell of a pistol in bed with the endurance of a damned distance runner!

"Lucky bashard doogging it up li'e he owns da dammed place." Haughty sniff as he lumbered past, the crunch of glass beneath his foot gave him pause. Looking down he saw the remains of some vessel....an ampule maybe? And there were divots and scuffing of the floor boards as well which simply made the man snort once more. "Dammed bashard on dwugs" Hmph...cood leash clean up affar himsel. Is Xmas for dammed sakes! Daangerous ta go leaven of such onna groun..." Kicking the remains of the ampule down the hall and into the corner he continued on with the affairs of his night.

And as for the bastard neighbor" There wouldn't be a ring, or a text, or a jingle....not even a trace.

An Interrogations Without Questions (Part 2)

"Death was not the scariest thing out there; no, the denial of it could be far worse."

- Nenia Campbell, Cease and Desist

The young man gave the pulped hunter a dim look obviously finding his crass humor less than pleasing at the moment."Yes, make light of things?" An up nod given to the hooded one, snagging their attention with that dim look prompting the fellow as his work. Stepping around the platter of tools with a rather long and thick needle in hand the man moved off to Mach's side, just out of his ability to crane and see what was going on. Sadly though the mystique wasn't long lived as the hunter felt a sharp pain of something piercing through his side, cutting its way into the depths of his body. A gasping whimper escaped him much to the renewed delight of the educated one. "" but in the end that analogy fails. Homosexuals were never rounded up as children, taken away from their home to learn how they should properly be. They were never restricted in what they could do with themselves or how they could live their lives without persecution or monitoring."

"Th-th-think actually those last two were true for that lot?" As cheeky a grin as he could muster offered as the felt that needle digging and probing about as if searching blindly for something. It burned like mad as that person went routing about his innards, the experience most certainly unpleasant though oddly mild compared to what he'd been put through prior. At long last that needle found it's mark, a wash of vertigo and light headedness taking the hunter that slacked in his restraints.

He felt the creep of unconsciousness pulling him back to that refuge though the sharp rack of knuckles viciously ripped the man away from that solace, stealing him back to this world of pain. "No, no, Elitia. We're not done talking yet you and I."

"S-sor-ry' seemed a" the right' right thing to do." Mach's vision swam about without focus, his mind on the feeling of that needle jabbed in him, in the sound and feel of tape being applied to keep the intrusive hardware in place. He didn't have to see to know what was happening" he just simple had to listen to the sound of liquid splattering slowly upon the ground, the sound of his own blood draining so slowly from him and onto the floor below.

"But aren't you curious as to why you're here or who I am?" That smile that spread across those youthful features was unpleasant, all teeth and malice reflected in their tone.

"Be-because I'm a hunter a-and you are" an ass licking m-monster?" Mach couldn't even bother to fake humor at this point as it took all he had left simply to keep his wits about him. Way he saw it exsanguination was pretty much the end game of things and so he had to garner what he could in case he could get out though that farfetched scenario seemed leagues out of his reach at this moment.

Shaking their head the leader tsk'd disapprovingly at Mach's assessment. "Yes, you being the hunter of Rhy'din is part of why you are here. But tell me, what does that tell you?"

A rattling scoff left Mach though it really was a good question. Or perhaps a really bad thought given that his untimely disappearance would only bring more hunters to investigate so they must have felt ready for that' or perhaps were even wanting a fight right here in the streets of Rhy"Din! Swallowing down the bile that such a thought stirred, Mach simply pushed a cheeky smile upon his swollen features. "Th-that you people are pretty stupid" since I plan to g-get out of here and kill yoalll?" His head slumped forward suddenly feeling really heavy, his focus crumbling on it's own. He was losing the fight against the horrors done upon him.

He felt his mind starting to sink into the cool waves, that heavy feeling sloshing as his head was knocked again to no avail. It seemed he was going to escape this torment for a little while; the thought bringing a smile to him, or at least he thought he might have been smiling. Either way he embraced this respite, willingly let the darkness steal him away....But just as sudden as that numbness washed over him something new came, a bolt of lightning that felt like it was traveling up his arm and through his entire body leaving a mess of smoldering, burning pain in its wake. This was much, much worse than the ice cold water, and as he felt his breath leaving him in a scream, the horror of recognition of this feeling sank in like a lead ball in his stomach. It was the feeling of spring turned hellish by the mountain of wounds and insults he had acquired, the miracle that allowed a normie like him to face toe to toe with things well beyond his kin" this was the hunter's regeneration potion. More precisely it was his particular battle variant, a mixture of potent brews and drugs that could drag a mostly dead Mach kicking and screaming through a terrible fight....or prevent a Mach being taken apart from the only escape he had.

Blue eyes blue snapped open as he gasped and choked on his own breath, his body demanding air no matter how painful and uncomfortable the effort might be. Everything that had gone numb was suddenly lit on fire once more, burning as it began to heal. And grinning like a kid in a candy store the young man stood before him, empty syringe held slack in awe of what effect the potion had wrought. "My my....welcome back Elitia. Thought I nearly lost you again." A pleased chuckle escaped them as he set the syringe back upon the tray of tools that seemed to be missing a set of skewers and a knife that had been there previously. "Though I must say that stuff certainly is effective. A poison that would kill humans bringing you back from the dead."

Gasping down a few more breaths Mach was able to stabilize his breathing, his breath steaming thanks to the furnace lit inside him by the Stamin-X mixed in with his battle formulary. "A-All the better....to kick your a-aAAH!" His back arched of it's own volition against the long slice cut down it by the hooded one that still stood out of sight.

"You really think you're going to get out of this Mr. Turner. That you will somehow slip your bonds and fight your way through an entire establishment of mages" I did not know that they made you monsters delusional."

"You monsters!" What teeth he had were barred aggressively as he lurched as little as he could towards the young man. This was the P.A.F. Adrenaline trying to drive an impotent rage, stir the broken man to action.

Of course it did little more but bring a smile to the smug leader. "Do you not see the irony of it all" That your government makes beasts like you to hunt 'monsters' which in turn makes you into the very creatures you so loathe?"

"I....I hunt monsters....bad people th-that do bad things. Keep the peace. P-p~erNN!" His words were stolen by another cut and another, the agony almost blinding but he fought through it, focused in on his rage. "Protect....inno-cents..."

"And that puts you above your actions!?" Emotion obviously fueled those words as the man snapped at him, fists balling in outrage. "You are no more innocent than anyone here. You kill innocent freedom fighters; persecute on demand and destroy the lives of all those involved with you!"

"I make....hard calls....to serve....the greater good."

"Oh! Is that so." A haughty scoff left the man as he lashed out, snapping the defenseless hunters head to the side with a hook. "So are there no innocent mages" No mad scientists worthy your sympathy?"

That blow seemed to do little but brighten the mad hunters smile, that fire in his stomach driven into his glibness. If pissing in this guys Wheaties was all he could do than by damn he was going to open the flood gates! "Plenty. Just not your ilk. Y-you lot deserve two to th...the brain pan, double tap justice. B-But don't worry....I got....I got a bullet for normies like you too..."

The man's rage seemed almost ready to boil over until Mach threw down that card, the young man's expression growing ugly with an oddly deep-seated hatred. "I....am no..."

"Come now....beardy. Y-You never refer to yourself when talking about....mages. Not...not one of us it seems."

A crease of confusion crinkled upon the man's brow, his hatred easing some as he realized what he had been doing. And to have it pointed out by a man being cut to ribbons had to have been especially galling, or so Mach hoped. Oddly though it seemed only to help the man gain his composure though there was a dangerous glint to that gray gaze he locked upon the hunter. "Even now you're always looking, always observing. It makes me wonder how anyone could deal with you, let alone someone who cares for you....like Sarai....or Serah."

'They don't' was the first mirthless answer that snapped across the man's mind but it was his emotions that drove him to action as he tried to throw himself at the man, his hands and feet fighting against those restraints as he strained to get even one hand on this one's throat. "You dare l-"

"Oh' Going to threaten me?" A chuckle escaped the man as he chided the hunters pointless efforts. "There you go again thinking you're going to get out of this...but let me tell you right now, you are here to suffer, to be broken, and to die. I am going to see you taken apart, put back together, and shredded again over and over until you are nothing less than a gibbering mass of meat. And only then will I give you the 'justice' you so rightly deserve. This is my recompense granted to me by she."

The schmooze had a few more choice insults to hurl, more threats to be made until he heard the malice that laced the man's words, seemed to emanate from his very core. This wasn't some misguided, anarchistic rebellion that this one bore, this was a grudge. "No power....in this dimension....or any other in the vast nothing....will protect you from my wrath.....if you invoke it...."

A derisive snort escaped beardy. "Such bold threats from a dead man. But don't worry, you will not be alone in the ether. She will feed in this city before we return to Tang so as to correct the world that has wronged my brethren."

"Y-You would sacrifice the mages of...of this land for some pointless goal....back home?"

"POINTLESS!?" A near roared at this as the man grabbed Mach by his jaw, yanking his attention to those youthful features. "There is nothing pointless to his endeavor. My brother died for it and I will see his work complete. I will see a free Tanga, your order crushed under foot!"

Mach couldn't help but cringe at the jostling that racked his abused flesh, but even still those gears turned as he processed this all, formulating theories while trying to keep the rage in his stomach, his heart in check. "O-Oh....was b-brother dearest a....a terrorist too th-that didn't care who got....in the way of his plans?"

Those gray eyes thinned, finger nails digging into the schmoozes throat. "You should know, you killed him..." That cold venom returned to the man's voice as he spoke, staring down the hunter. "....my brother Doran Egret Ker.?

The Best Laid Plans....(Part 1)

"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain."

James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

Mach felt like Hell. Such a phrase was generally over used by people looking to expound about a crummy run of luck that had left them feeling ill at ease with their place in the universe. A whiners way to be melodramatic without truly fathoming how one in such a realm of eternal damnation would feel. It was a phrase the hunter hated because it really cheapened things when someone truly had experienced the uncaring cruelty that could be served to someone in life. Cruelty such as being forced to endure repeatedly being torn apart over and over like the punishment of Prometheus, the eternal feast of ravens that was handed down as retribution to the titan harbinger of mankind. A cruelty the hunter could not escape from as every dose of that regeneration potion that was pushed into his veins, each dose that healed his broken canvas brought his mind back, focused it on the marathon of misery that awaited him once more.

Mach felt like Hell. And as the hot place the man had himself his very own band of demons which tormented him. Necromancers, sadists, and purely dark hearted people who took turns cutting upon the hunter, flailing him alive and destroying him bit by bit, piece by piece. It was not a job for the squeamish and even the most putrid of souls and craven of hearts could not keep up such atrocities forever. Which is why they made it into almost a game, seeing who could keep the schmooze begging and crying out the longest before he had to be re-dosed or the torturer lost their last meal. Of course this wasn't to say that Mach was a soft and easy target. By all means he was as hardened and badass as any the corp of hunters had developed, maybe just a touch more. But unlike the movies of some stolid hero wearing down their torturers until the ample time to snap their bonds and break a lot of necks; in reality there was really only so much a person could withstand before it was no longer an issue of willpower or piss and vinegar....and it was simply just wanting the brutal agony to end. He could hate himself when he was dead for breaking from that snarky, smart ass humor to begging, pleading for an end to his suffering though really such would do little to absolve how violated he would feel to end of his days. And end he may well still be hoping as soon.

Mach felt like Hell. His grasp on reality had grown tentative at best during the hours" Days" However long he had endured this endless torment. He grasped onto what he could to keep himself together, to keep his incoherent babbling to a minimum. Loved ones, friends, family, experiences ? anything he could use to anchor himself to the world against that howling maelstrom of suffering. Something like this could break a person, fragment them and scatter their parts to the winds. Or even if one could keep their mind it could well be so tattered, so jumbled by such an experience as this so what was left were no longer the person that had gone in. Mach....knew well of such experiences thanks to a terribly lived life. He'd learned how to keep the important bits and pieces together while letting the unimportant parts simply blow away in the storm. Parts like where he left his keys, what he needed to buy at the corner mart, and his general humanity....no, wait, he was fairly certain he kept that last one, or maybe the second to last' Well, he at least kept his dark sense of humor! That was always a boon when one had to shape the pulpy remains of a broken creature into the form of a person so as to attempt to wipe it into action.

And action was exactly what this situation needed as he was certain there wouldn't be a Mach left if he had to endure another session like the marathon one he just had. A session that had ended with his mind being pushed so far beyond the breaking point that not even a mystical, black box potion could drag it bag from soothing call off the abyss. Or maybe more he just forgot how to scream, how to cry for long enough that they gave him a sedative so as to finally rest and recover. Another potent concoction stolen from his own belt of wonders....but what they hadn't taken into account that while he had held on to so very much of his mind, his heart, his soul; there were two things of his broken meat that he held back. And one was working right now as even though he was dosed for a full 24 hours of recovery his abused and toxic brewster cleared that sedative in a mere eight.

And it was for that fact that Mach felt like Hell. Because he'd awaken from that sleep of pseudo-death and back into this world of pain and suffering that threatened to drown him. But at very least, he was alone to do such. And for some countless amount of time he did just that, wasting water on tears that just would not cease until finally he was out once more and the agony had subsided enough that he could actually see, actually think on something more than just the pain. Eyes....no, correction....eye fluttered open to take in the gruesome sight of that tray of implements, the very floor and hall before him sodden and soaked with bits and pieces of him. He saw the crushed remains of his right eye which brought a sad titch of a frown to him as he liked how close Bell had gotten with the color to his natural eye. Was it concerning that that was the worst thing he could think to complain about' Well no, he could think of all the rest of the insults done to him but he found it much more productive to focus on the mundane and absurd....especially as he toyed with that second piece of meat which he so worked to hold back from the brutality of his tormenters.

Thumb and forefinger lazily felt along his right hand pinky, comforting it for the ordeal he had to put himself through that he really, really didn't want to. But then to not go through with such would undo all he had done to ensure this one little chance of escape. It would undermine the information that he'd fed them about how bones were still slow to knit even for a hunter like him dosed with regeneration potion....and how it was a bitch trying to peel flesh like sausage casing off of fingers when the bones beneath were pulverized. And so he was able to keep that one pinky finger intact....so he could break the bone himself.

Was it madness that drove such self-destruction' Yes! Wait, no. No! It was for....because....Racking his mushy brain he fought to try and reclaim why he was so obsessed with wanting to break his own pinky. A few more minutes would pass before he pieced the parts together, the long shot plan he'd developed so long ago when he'd first come to. He had a fail safe in that pinky, a spell carved into the very bone during one of his routine maintenance's by Bell. A lock knock cantrip that the madsci devised may have been useful for a hunter to have so completely hidden on his person just in case such a dire situation as this arose. It was something the schmooze had scoffed at at the time but still volunteered to get because hey, better over prepared than under! And it was a decision he was immeasurably pleased at himself for having the foresight to make and perhaps just a little perturbed that having elective surgery for a rainy day spell that required he break his own fingers was even something that sounded remotely necessary to him at any point in time.

Casting a lazy look about as best he could from where he hung the man didn't note any sort of guard watching him though that really wasn't too surprising. He'd heard of watching paint dry but watching meat bleeding on a hook....that was a little too out there. Feeling along the long length between knuckles the man gathered his will, his moxey, and whatever he could scrape together to do that deed. And once he'd mustered all that piss and vinegar he gripped that digit and gave it a vicious wrench...

It did not snap.

The Best Laid Plans....(Part 3)

"Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters."

- Stephen King, The Shining

Lawrence didn't like this part of the job. He'd signed on for the chance to cause some havoc, stir a little chaos, have a little fun. Like the sort he had down at seaside before the new Baron decided to muck things up by having that murder fest in the guise of 'public safety.' A real crapper that, and one that had nearly been the end of him until, well, until the poor bastard that was strung up in the room down the hall as a 'special project' grabbed him and sent him to a safe house on the beach. The young man couldn't help but wonder why the guy did as he did back then saving a punk like him, or what they did to piss of these folks so badly that they'd torture him for days on end. But what he did know was that he owed that guy a solid, and that no one should ever be forced to beg for death as much as he'd heard that guy scream for such. No....those screams would haunt him.

There was thought to try and maybe help the guy escape, brief, but that was insane, not with this lot. These guys were real serious business and had a plan....and then there was she. The man paused momentarily on that thought, smiling softy before the weight of the syringe in hand nearly caused it do drop. A shake, a confused look about, and Lawrence remembered once more what he'd come here to do. He couldn't help the guy escape, but he could give him the peace he so wanted. And hey, an OD of this wasn't cheap and was certainly a decent way to go. Moving on up to the door he pulled out the key he'd boosted from one of the necromancers earlier, the single lock worked through before he pushed into that claustrophobic room that reeked of death. Scanning over the grim surroundings the man....didn't see anyone!

"W-What!?" Bemused and panicked he stepped into the small room, a look past the medical cart would find....the guy, or their corpse perhaps. Their body was bruised and battered as it curled motionless on the floor, blood all around them. "Shit....did you kick it?" Rushing over now, Lawrence knelt by the body, grabbing a shoulder to turn them over. A puff of steam rolled up from those features, obfuscating the look of sheer, unbridled rage that burned upon them as they twisted in sudden vigor, the knife hidden in hand driven viciously into his temple. Lawrence tried to cry out, tried to scramble away from the hand that pushed into his mouth to silence such. Struggling back, the man just followed, that ugly sneer only growing as the young cultist bit down on that hand trying to get the crazed guy to draw back. The knife was pulled from his temple, hand moving instinctively to try and protect himself from the demonic fury, the bestial panic that had the hunter beating him to death with the knife, and with the handle of that when the blade broke under the brutality of the assault. He tried to struggle, tried to get away, from each blow, each puncture that stole a little more away until finally vision stained red with his own blood faded, the last sight he held of the world being of that man that had been a savior, turned to a monster.

- - - - -

Mach breathed deeply, tears falling from his one eye as he caved in this young man's skull. He....he'd only meant to...to incapacitate....but something in him just snapped and...and....Dropping the remains of the knife the hunter pushed away, horrified at what he'd done and yet at the same time he felt...happy, giddy even...and that just made him feel worse of all. He wretched up acid that burned in his stomach, a shudder taking him as he lamented and celebrated the death of this young man all at once. In so short a time it sickened him he was already striping them of their attire, pulling on those campy clothes while he shakily lit up a cigarette found on the young man before he moved to drag their corpse over to the edge of the mandala. He was moving on autopilot, the hunter taking control as the rest of him just curled up in the deepest recesses of his mind. Another regen potion was thrown back, the pathetic resistance against his phobia pushed through as he sucked down that cigarette like ambrosia. Casting aside that empty vial the man grabbed hold of that line sticking out of his side and yanked it free with a complaintive squish and a hissing groan. And without missing a beat he stabbed it into the cultists neck, moving now to elevate their legs so as the blood drained ever so slowly now from them to feed that hungry magic. It was cold and viscous of him and at the moment he was caring less and less about such because he had made his decision. He would not let these people dictate the terms of his death, not even indirectly. And he would not let them dictate what kind of monster he was....not again. He would find his own death. He would decide what humanity he dispensed with. He would own every life he snuffed out because HE won, not them, HIM!

One last growl escaped him before he pushed down that hatred and remorse, sent them to grind on the whet wheel of trauma into a deadly edge as he moved now to take up the rest of the potions left on that table, placing them upon his person before moving over to check out that drum and crate. The drum wasn't very useful just containing....well, random bits of him as well as implements broken in their service to breaking him. The crate though was a treasure trove with his potion belt, cantrips, spell cartridges, cell phone! Quickly swiping it on he punched in the emergency broadcast panic code at the lock screen, cobalt blue staring at the little symbol that spun around as his phone looked for any available network to connect to. But try as it might after a few moments the screen dumped out to the timeout timer, the retry counter counting down. Damn it! He didn't think it would be that easy but he could have at least hoped. Shoving the sliver of tech in a pocket he grabbed his caster now. Thumbing over the emergency compartment hidden in the handle the schmooze was greeted with even more disappointment as he beheld that broken cantrip still sitting within. DAMN IT!

Mach bit back the curse that threatened to leave him as he slid the compartment cover back in place, held back the nasty words he had for Katt who pushed him to use that 'get the hell out of dodge' spell earlier in the week over the stupidest of reasons. Damn it, all over..! No....NO! All this rage, this bile was not for her, not for anyone but these bastards. And Mach had every intention of hurling his hatred at them until there was nothing left of either them or him. He had to focus on what little he had and could do....and what he had was freedom, a gun, and a lot of pent up anger. So with that in mind he sulked now for the door, creeping out from that personnel hell and into the cold, callous hallway of the unknown.

The Prisoner Dilemma (Part 2)

"Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes."

- Mahatma Gandhi

"W-W-What do you mean 'what about us'!" You have to get us out of here!" A pleading hiss from the man as the others in the cell began to murmur in agreement, terror starting to take hold.

Mach paused in his going through the dropped assailants robes, his single blue eye cast to the man. "No." He shook his head. "I....I can't....look, I'm in no condition to-to mount a rescue, yeah?"

"What do you mean your in no condition!?" Agitation driven by fear filled the mans words as he clutched at the bars of the safety cage. "You just took down three of those bastards without breaking a sweat!!"

Mach leveled a cold, dead eye stare at the fellow....at all those who were starting to grow in their murmurs and mutters. Pulling back his cowl he let them see how beat and cut his face was, see the makeshift bandage over that open hole where another eye should have been, see just how broken he was. The murmuring died some at that shocking revelation.

"You that fella that's been yelling for death these past few days...?" Cobalt gaze was set on the older gentleman that hazarded that guess. Over the hill and calm....collected....ex-military or police would have been the schmoozes guest given how well put together they were despite however long they'd been in here.

The question that was posed had Mach shivering involuntarily, snippets of....gods....days past flashing across his mind. "Y-yeah....that was me."

A sad look cross the man, his jaw working beneath the short down of his matted beard. "Than you know why you can't just leave us here. They come for a few of us every few hours....take us down that hall never to return. If....if they see us with no guards here than-"

"They'll kill us all! You can't le-!" That sudden outburst was silenced quickly as Mach trained the barrel of his caster at the man that shuffled back with a muffled yelp, hands slapping over his mouth as the others packed in their tried to get out of the way while attempting to conceal their own panicked thrum. Keeping the caster trained on the man for a moment longer he'd finally let the weapon drop with a tired sigh, a shake of had to try and push back those vitriolic thoughts that poisoned his temperament.

He looked over the lot once more. A sorted collection of elderly too old to fight, younger individuals without backbone, children" nearly thirty all told. And all of them looked banged up, bruised, frail, frightful, emaciated....just like him but he'd crawled his way up to that state! The only useful one in any fight would likely be the calm one and only so because they had a look about them that they could handle themselves....that is if they didn't break a hip while doing so. No, the best, most strategically sound plan was for him to sneak out undetected and call in help; not to increase his chances of discovery exponentially. "Look....it'll be e-easier and qu-quicker for one person to sneak out of here and signal f-for help than for a group. I have my cell, I just...need to get out of reach of...whatever's blocking reception. Then this'll all be over."

There was a low hum from the group as the prisoners murmured amongst themselves. As for Mach he was moving back to his task of searching out useful equipment from the corpses as he shakily lit up another stolen cigarette. He almost believed that lie himself too but then he knew better " any police action no matter how fast it was unlikely to be would not only come too late for these people but it would seal their fate as no longer prisoners....but hostages. And Mach knew for a simple fact that these cultists would have no scruples about killing them so as to prove a point or to try and buy some amnesty or time to slink off. Leaving them here was as good as signing their death certificates....but what was he to do' If he took them with him then all he did was vastly improve the chance of all of them dying with no one outside none the wiser to what insidious plot brewed. Sure, there may have been some tizzy thrown about his disappearance" in a while, but before there would be a Watch investigation the trail would already dead end. And it would be another month before a replacement hunter was sent and by then what trail that would have been left may well have gone cold. In the big picture stopping this now was more important, saved more lives, and minimized the tragedy....what was twenty or thirty innocents over dozens, or even hundreds or thousands more if these crackpots plots was left to mature"

Mach kept on going over the cold calculus of the situation to try and assure himself of what he was doing, to keep himself together from just breaking down and weeping an apology to these people. Puffing along on that cigarette as a small comfort he arranged what he had pulled from the bodies before him. Three assault rifles, one extra clip of ammo, a second revolver (to the one he'd taken off the man's corpse he'd initially brained), a half pack of cigarettes between all of them, a set of keys, a couple of cellphones (that had no service either, but of course) and a load of random extra stuff of no importance. It was slim pickings but then unless everything went south he shouldn't have needed much to try and sneak out. Unloading the revolver he'd pocket the extra rounds, the clips of 7.62 rifle ammo consolidated as well into two make shift double banana clips with the aid of some universal adhesive he had on his potion belt. Working as he could with his back to the group of prisoners, out of sight out of mind, he'd finally cast a look back to them....and it near broke the schmoozes heart. A state of despondent apathy had fallen over the group as they had obviously come to the same conclusion that he had....that they were expendable, and that Mach was expending them.

His jaw hurt from how tight he worked it, the stress and guilt crushing him as he began doubting things. Maybe he could....or could do....or just maybe....each thought a desperate plea of his conscious. But one after another was dismissed as a mere pipe dream....ones that would only greatly decrease any of their chances of escaping this. Scraping together what resolve he had he finally moved back over to the cage so as he could at least try to apologize....and be monster to take their blame. "Alright, I....I'll..." Mach choked on his words beneath the looks of broken contempt that fell on him, of people who were desperate to escape but had had their wills broken were the mere threat of violence had them cowed against raising a fuss.

"Please....w-won't you at least take the children?"

"W-Why should he only save the young" If he's letting th-"

"Because he's right, there's no hope for all of us to-"

"Then at least let us make our own fate. All I want is-"

"-to do that would be to-"

It was almost painful to listen to the hushed bickering between the group, words that cut into him more and more.

"He should at least-"

"I don't want to-"

"Do you think he could-"

"I wish Orwell was here..."

Brows wrought with guilt suddenly knit at recognition of a random name plucked out from the mash of murmurs. Wait....Orwell" "Wait...wait...wait!" Words spoken in a pressing hiss as that cobalt blue gaze shifted about seeking out the one that spoke that name. "Who said that....about Orwell!?"

The group of prisoners shied away from the man's wild eyed gaze as he sought out the one that spoke that name. Casting about he'd finally catch sight of a girl meekly raising a frail hand, the waif of thing no more than twelve years of age. Staring at her his mind churned, the broken parts assembling the jumble of puzzle pieces which rose a single question. "You from The Wayward Children of the Nexus orphanage?"

The girl squirmed under the gaze of the man that had to have looked like some Frankensteinesque monster with how battered he was, but as he spoke those words something within her sparked. A glimmer of hope blossomed in the girl that, to Mach, burned like holy water to the wicked. "Do you know Mr. Danub!?"

The name struck him like a baseball bat to the chest, the breath wiffling out of him. Orwell Danub....the hunter that proceeded him in Rhy'Din....the hunter that had died in a mysterious explosion and had tasked him with helping out that particular orphanage. This couldn't have been coincidence. No, it was far too cruel a joke for it to have just been such. So much a joke that a light and airy laugh punctuated with wheezing crackles left the man silencing the prisoners as they stared wide eyed at the hunter that had just lost it.

When had he become such a coward that he'd forgotten his duty, his oath, and even his own convictions" He was filled with indignant rage at what had happened to him, to these people....but he was about to try and run away when there was always another option. It was by far a crappy option but then again what other options had there ever been since he'd become a hunter"

Moving he grabbed those two worthless cellphones and the set of keys before returning to the cage so as to unlock the gate. He could sneak out of this hell, despise himself but put an end to this....or he could fight with all the piss and vinegar a Tang military hunter could bring to bear, be the living weapon that he was....and serve his duty to himself and, not to his country, but to his fellow idiot hunter. "Yeah darling, I know Danub. I owe that joker a favor so think I'll cash in..."

The prisoners stared at him in stunned silence as he pulled open the gate, tears finding no small number of them as the madman had a sudden change of heart. The old soldier wasn't crying though. He looked at Mach in disbelief, obviously unable to comprehend why he was doing this as it tanked all their chances of getting out of there. Someone would have to be sacrificed, they both knew this. But to Mach he'd simply just made another decision, tactically stupid as it was, not to sacrifice his ideals, his humanity. And in this same line he had made the decision that he, like he suspected Danub before him, would be the one to pay the price. Sorry Serah, Sarai, Lauren....everyone....just can't be selfish. It was a thought that brought a tired grin to him as he considered now how he was going to get these strangers that he owed nothing to out of this crap situation.

Razzle and Dazzle (Part 1)

"All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."

- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Mach was sure his heartbeat could be heard as he snuck up that rickety steel staircase. Even without reaching the top he could hear the hustle and bustle of activity; voices and movement with purpose most certainly not simply being prisoners. And when the man finally reached the top, eased a cautious gaze over the level of the concrete floor well" he wasn't feeling very pleased with always being right. The room that opened up before him was massive and open with steel girders and concrete walls spanning out to what had to be the size of a football field. There was scaffolding and catwalks and walkways that crisscrossed above with suspended rails and tracks for moving heavy lift equipment along the length of the building. Along the stretch of floor there were rows of depressed work troughs straddled on either side by a bevy of imbedded steel rails which joined via massive turntables to the track which lead off to the hanger door on the far side. And along the walls were the antiquated and abandoned husks of industrial machinery, tools, milling stations, and smaller cordoned off spaces for offices, workshops, and storage rooms. An old rail repair yard, re-purposed for a nightmarish carnival: cages for people and monsters alike, crates of weapons and ammo, and piles of bodies pale from exsanguination waiting to be butchered, desecrated, or burned. The room smelled of death and decay which threatened to make the hunter heave with the sheer scope of this horrific travesty.

Quickly scanning over the room Mach counted" well, a lot of villains-r-us dressed cultist with many of them caring some form of rifle or submachine gun. So right, the boom plan went right out the door there. Looking around the area nearby the service tunnel entrance he was at he was at least thankful that it seemed mostly neglected and bereft of cultist' if only because there was NO signs of any sort of entrance or exit nearby which made the woop woop woop run plan a bust as well. Crap. Signaling back to the other prisoners the schmooze slunk further out of the service entrance, easing quietly over to some crates so as to get a better vantage. More nothing, and more" broken down machines, giant turbines, nests of piping, long dead furnaces and copper silos. Steamworks" how delightfully antiquated. How completely unhelpful" damn it! If it was just him he was positive he had enough juice and tricks up his sleeve to get out of here and call in the Calvary. Probably get back in time even to save most those prisoners, at least some. But that wasn't good enough, not to him. Perhaps it was stupid for someone like him to go so out of their way for folks like these but' but that's just who he was. Something that was killing him more and more it seemed but then maybe deserved such' Moving amongst the shadows and towards the furnaces where maybe there was some sort of service hatch or something he could squeeze a gaggle of people through the schmooze found his body continuing a forward motion while his foot remained staunchly still. It took a touch of finesse and an iron will not to curse bitterly at whatever caught his foot, blue eyes blue shooting an angry glare back at the offending piece of floor though that expression was short lived as that card that he needed finally turned face up in play. And wouldn't you know it, it was a joker.

- - - - -

"You want us to go down a sewer pipe?"

"Waste drain. And yeah, I do." Mach could almost feel the lack of enthusiasm that this idea garnered. It sort of made him want to shove the ingrates back into their death cage but he was fairly certain that was just the "tortured for days without a cigarette" part talking. Instead he simply waved off the one survivors concern. "Look, it's close to where the stairs come out into the rail yard in an isolated corner by its lonesome. Now unless you like you're odds of fighting through a well-armed army of zealots or got a means to get through the back wall then this is you all's best bet."

"But how do we know it even goes anywhere" You said it's large enough to fit a person at the top but that doesn't mean it won't narrow up further down!"

Mach shot an annoyed look at this one which was pretty impressive since he only had one eye with which to emote. "Look dumbass, it's a drain pipe for boiling hot water, why would they want it to get thinner and maybe cause a clog or a boom because of increased pressure?" He hadn't meant to get so snappy with the fellow, but even he had his limits of schmooze and charisma and right now he was feeling pretty tapped. "Sorry, just' look, it's this or nothing, alright' If you want to backtrack that's on you? but way I see this is your best shot."

The group of survivors looked about each other uncertainly. "W-What'll we do i-if there's monsters down there" to guard against intruders" or escapers?""

"You'll have the guns sans the revolver for me so-"

"I've heard a lot of "you all" and "your's....but what about you?" The old soldier gave Mach a stern look laced with something more. It made him feel like a right bastard as he just smiled thinly knowing what he was going to say would crush this one" luckily the hunter just didn't care at the moment.

"I'm going to be playing decoy of course." Hand with unbroken finger was raised to cut off the man's objection. "And only me. I can't be assed to try and keep any of the rest of you alive while I do this and only I can do what I have in mind."

The others in the group shuffled about in uncomfortable silence, the desire to do right and/or heroic obviously conflicting with their survival instinct. Hell, Mach could feel that, he could sympathize with that quiet well. He wanted nothing more than to simply run away with them, to be first and foremost in line for the choo choo train to the sewer. But he just couldn't leave well enough alone, it just wasn't in his nature. He couldn't just be selfish, not when he had the power to affect change. It was something that helped ruin his relationship with Serah, it was something that had driven him to making the devils pact for the magical power he had, and it would likely kill him this very night but' if faced with dying doing something for someone or nothing for himself, well, it wasn't really even a question.

"What are you going to do in the shape that you're in?"

Mach could see that same zeal in the older man's eyes, could see that desire, that need to do something. It was something that brought a thin smile to him and was one of those things that made him, perhaps, a little glad that he himself could not get so old. "You are going to lead these folks into those tunnels, cover them until the last one is in, and take up the rear. And me" well, I'm going razzle and dazzle these jokers?" And with that a sly, almost disturbed grin curled on the hunter.

Razzle and Dazzle (Part 3)

"In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance."

- Jeanette Winterson, The World and Other Places: Stories

Mach cried out in pain, the sound in stereo for a moment as he was carried from one point in space to another, his form falling wildly from that point in the roof where that tracer round had sank down the twenty feet to the rail of catwalk below. The flesh of his back screamed as it cooked, smoldering from that attack that were it more focused would have burnt through him. Instead it acted as a horribly painful reminder of keeping awareness of ones surroundings on the battlefield when dealing with potential mage threats, this very fact emphasized by the dig of steel piping into his side which cracked and bent ribs unnaturally driving the very air from his lungs in a forced, gurgling wheeze. His world spun in those fresh agonies, his hands swiping out drunkenly overhead as he kicked to try and make sure he tipped and fell forward from his precarious balance rather than backwards. A teeter, a totter, and with a mewling groan the man's form slid and his face impacted with a hard thud against the metal mesh of the catwalk. He felt like curling up where he lay as the hand holding that caster curled in protectively about his damaged ribs while he tried to suck in ragged breaths against the double distress of those fresh injuries that worked against the expansion of his torso in any manner.

The hunter would almost miss that tingle that he'd missed the first time which had him forcing his broken body to lurch and roll just as there was that lightening of hackles rose. A spear of flames much more concentrated then that which seared his back ripped upwards through that grate, sagging the metal of where he'd just been curled. Mach thought it'd been too good to be true that there were no mages in this area but then he was pretty okay with believing in that hope while it lasted. Planting that palmed cartridge into a crevice so it would not fall down to the floor below the hunter threw back a couple of potions that burned his tongue as they combined going down, the liquids giving him the much needed boot in the ass to scramble to his feet. He pushed will and energy into those cantrips in hand before flinging them out into the air, delaying their cast action long enough for them to sail some before crackling to life raining down fire and ice on the lot below. He didn't think it would do much but to spook the hell out of the normies but really he just needed to not have to worry about bullets for the moment as he labored to push himself to movement, caster hand pushing against those throbbing ribs to set them so they'd at least stop stabbing him in the lung.

With a painful crack and an grumbling groan Mach was soon moving at a run while he hot swapped the clips in his caster once more. He had counted off at least a half dozen or more seconds between that prior blast and the next one that withered the safety rail next to him as he ran along, the slow cast timing and favored spell feeding into the hunters threat equation. This was obviously not a battlemage as he and Sarai had so faced before though as time had worn on the hunter had found the quality of mage he was apprehending less and less impressive. A drying up of talent maybe....or else all the really nasty types were simply working along with other project. Other projects like capturing him. A sour note as he threw back another potion, his breath sputtering crimson as he gained speed, ran the length of that football stadium in a time that would have made him top of any draft were he totally not on drugs to do it! Reaching where he needed to be he wedged another palmed cartridge into the gap between railings, his caster leveled off at the cultist that gathered below as he snapped off a shot, the caster whizzing and whirring before it popped seeding a super ice element in the air which sent frozen tendrils at the unsuspecting cultist below.

A look was hazarded to opposite side of the railyard where all this had started, the note of moment in the shadows fueling a curse as he continued with his mad dash for the next point, traversing the skinny service rails that connected one side of catwalks to the other. It was an interesting journey made hazardous as he used up his general use cartridges for defense against errant fire bolts and bullets as he moved as quickly as he could to that other side to plant that palmed cartridge. And now with that done he rolled back to take cover behind the motor housing of of one of those massive suspended rails, the moments reprieve taken to hot swap his clips once again and to swipe ineffectually at the blood that now dribbled from his nose like a faucet. The act did little but to bloody his hand as as he threw the last of his cantrips out from behind that cover, the delay giving him time to pull the trigger on that caster so it whirred to life, feeding that translocation spell as a rain of lesser lightening electrified the air and everyone around it.

But not Mach as he appeared clear on the other side of the warehouse, his form crouching as he anticipated this fall. With a resounding thud he'd land with a crouch, caster leveled at the one that he identified as the lone mage now standing in the center of everything as they looked wildly about for the hunter. A rank amateur move really and the last they'd make as Mach squeezed the trigger with a clean break, the tracer round exploding from the caster and catching the young man in the back of the head sending them sprawling across the ground. He'd plant that last palmed cartridge he'd been carrying as he pulled the trigger on his caster one last time. A whir, a whiz, and with a flushing pop he used the very last of his translocation spells to appear atop the felled mage. It was perhaps a bit gruesome but hey, two birds with one stone!

Casting a look to the gloom at the far side of the warehouse Mach saw....nothing. No moment, no waiting forms....just a lot of empty shadow that told him all he needed to know. The prisoners had gotten out. He'd done it! And now it was time for that final little act as he raised his hands in surrender. "H-Hey everyone....I come in peace, yeah?" Cheeky words breathed out between wheezing huffs of aerosoled crimson as he grinned, his foot moving ever so slightly as he drew out a glyph on the floor with his own blood. He just had to keep them distracted, keep them off balance for a little bit longer as he finished that alchemy glyph, finished his grand finale.

"Take me to yo-? But once again time proved it was no friend of Mach's as a lone resound rang out in the stunned silence of the warehouse. There was a whiz in the air as a bullet took flight....and caught the hunter snapping rugged features viciously as he twisted, crumpling to the ground.

From the Pan to the Fires of Hell (Part 2)

"Dante and this Palero were definitely playing some sort of game, and I didn't know the rules, which was fine with me. Whenever a game became too complicated, I just set the board on fire."

- Kenya Wright, Fire Baptized

The roar was deafening as the air above him burned, the pressure wave crushing but much less so since he was protected in that trough.....unlike all the unlucky shlubs above him. Not that it was a concentrated explosion but a room full of respirating life and the rotting dead tended to make a lot of moisture....moisture that a madman with a bit of alchemy could split into component oxygen and hydrogen with a transmutation. And when you add a little flame? Well, they didn't call it the Hindenburg a disaster for no reason! The boom was incredible by even Mach's standards, rocking that massive rail yard and blowing out all the windows as well as causing less secure walkways and structures to collapse in the momentary fury of that hell on earth. But most of all it was very, very much deafening as it left the hunter's ears ringing, the only sound in his world being the rush of blood thrumming around his head as his heart raced.

The heat above licked tortuously at the already scorched flesh of his back before just as quickly as that blinding light it was gone leaving a momentary emptiness that pulled at his, tried to pry the very breath from his lungs in the briefness of that vacuum. It was a rather unpleasant feeling for the hunter and he imagined it was leagues worse for those caught unaware but then he had said he needed an even bigger spectacle so as to get away....and if you're already going big well then why not blow the whole damn place up! It was a very mage hunter way of doing things....or maybe just a Mach way....well, okay, maybe he just really wanted to blow these bastards up for all they'd done. What was the point of being an arcane fueled bad ass if you couldn't occasionally let loose on some dicks that so rightly deserved it' It was a line of thought the man knew he shouldn't have been think but couldn't help but to anyway as he struggled to find his footing, the vertigo from that double ringing of the shot to the head and the explosion making the task laborious at best as he stumbled face first into the wall of the trench, hands hugging the supportive surface while everything stopped spinning long enough for him to start trying to clamber out.

There was no shortage of want to just lay back down in the muck and curl up but a voice in the back of his head just kept pushing him. The man knew he wasn't out of danger yet....not by a long shot. He'd not be out of danger yet until he escaped from this hellish place, put some serious distance between him and it while somebody came and dealt with this cult....because somebody had to be coming. He just detonated a football stadium worth of hydrogen gas in the docks district....as incompetent a reputation as the Watch had even they would be hard pressed to miss this sign! Struggling to his feet, a labor given that still oozing bullet wound to his leg, the man cast a cobalt gaze about admiring his handiwork. A lot of little flames, a legion of groaning, struggling, and otherwise incapacitated forms....he couldn't have asked for a better response!

Looking to the obvious exit the hunter noted the ragged look of those cages near the main hanger doors leading in, arms of mottle colored flesh devoid of the healthy hues of life straining and whipping about in a fury as they tried to break free of their bonds. Flesh golems....and angry ones at that. Such weren't the worse bit of nasty a hunter as he could face, and at the moment they looked well enough contained riled as they seemed; but the schmooze just couldn't convince himself to attempt that dangerous approach in case one of the nasties so happened to break free as he hobbled his happy ass on by. Hey, they weren't the worst bit of nasty but he was feeling pretty tapped nonetheless after everything and he wasn't sure he had to fight in him at the moment to deal with such a horror. Nope. So rather he'd go the safe route as he set to a shuffling sort of hobbly run making his way to that back corner. He'd sneak on out the way the rest of the prisoners did, hop on down to the welcomed sewers, struggle through a river of muck to come out free the other side, fitting. Rounding about the massive husk of a gutted milling that cobalt blue eye fell upon the industrial drain....or where the drain had been.

Monsters in the Dark

"Be careful in the company of monsters that you don't become one."

- Cindy Gerard, Take No Prisoners

Mach cursed as he tumbled down into those dark depths, the stairway leading a fair bit deeper into the very earth than the prior tunnel he had come from lead out. Thumping to a groaning halt the man just took a long moment to cough and wheeze, lips stained crimson from the action of all those potions working to goad a broken and barely held together form to keep moving, keep challenging the fate that seemed to always be stepping in the hunters way. He wasn't sure why he had run from that fight, why he choose to struggle along when he could have been granted a final reprieve from this constant pain. Rolling with a rattling moan he gripped at his broken ribs as he sat up with a gurgle. On physical autopilot he started to wrap up those fresh wounds while his mind just took a breather to reflect back on those whom he fought, whom he struggled so hard to live for. For his family and friends both back in Tang and here in Rhy'Din. He played them over in his mind as a balm against the crushing desire to just stop, to just lie down and give up. They helped....but even still the hunter felt that cold, gnawing emptiness beneath the warmth which he so desperately tried to cover over. The patch was wearing thin....same as the skint bandaging he had with which to bind up his leg and head while he simply cut up the shirt and cowl he wore into strips so as to bind his chest, keep those jagged ribs from poking holes into any more of his organs.

With that done he shakily checked over his supplies. A handful of defense spells, two fire spells, a freeze spell, three regeneration potions, and a smattering of battle enhancers that he was sure would just kill him if he used them. Past that he had six more shots of .357 JHP for that revolver, a combat knife, and quarter filled lighter and two partially crushed cigarettes....no, correction, one partially crushed cigarette. Tucking the other crooked cancer stick between quivering lips the man lit up that smoke, solitary blue eye watching the gloom as he struggled with a whine to his feet, clambering down the rest of those stairs to the cold concrete floor beneath. He waited a tick, savoring the slow burn of that smoke as he watched out for any signs of approaching nasty to show up from down that hall, coming to investigate the explosion he made. But moments passed into minutes, and when the man heard a calming of the panicked screams and rattles of conflict which rattled well above him like some distant nightmare, well, that was a pretty clear signal for him to brave the unknown rather than wait for the barrel of pissed off above to break through and come pouring upon him.

Moving at as hurried a pace as his fucked up self could while still shuffling about with at least the notion of stealth, Mach proceeded down the thin and gloomy corridor. The industrial walls were narrow, marked up with graffiti and un-useful designations as pipes entered or left the already claustrophobic space that tilted in a gradual descent letting gravity help to carry whatever was being piped around down here. The lighting was sparse at best, the tunnel obviously not meant for typical use or service which kind of made him wonder why the cult had gone through such pains to conceal it's existence. Well, okay, he actually tried very hard not to wonder about such as he was sure he wouldn't like the answer were he to know, particularly dealing with a blood cult!

No, his hope was to find some side exit out of this tunnel before he reached the end of the line....or maybe just a place with reception! Pulling out that sliver of technology the man awoke the screen with a tap, blue eye blue noting the twirling pattern of that emergency beacon still twirling, the lack of any bars of anything up along the top of the splash screen. He sort of figured the rail yard would have a suppression field cast over it....sort of had that verified as he'd been so high as the rafters without any reception to be had. Of course the extent of his nullification bubble was getting to be pretty ridiculous the longer he went with absolutely no change in status. There was no way to tell how far he had gone (as one of those pedometer apps was so not a thing Mach prescribed to) but he certainly could tell he'd been going for some distance, the minutes rolling on into the double digits as he drug himself along alone with his thoughts

Long losing the dead cigarette the schmooze just pushed of forward, one footfall in front of the other, stubborn against his thoughts and that creeping dread and darkness that permeated in the back of his mind. He'd pushed through, lived against crap odds like this before....a few instances even worse! But there was something so much more insidious about all of this, something that just nagged at him in the dark. Back in Tang he'd never have been alone in this situation, not truly....not in the way that he was....but here"

"I know it ain't really your concern and that it's sorta against 'the game' but....yeah....this place....it has a way of making you think. All these nosy *** pushing themselves in you're business, not knowing what kind of freak you are, just seeing you as..."

The words from the last lone hunter that kicked it in Rhy'Din echoed through Mach's mind at that thought once again, his lips drawing thin. A message that reverberated so much within the schmooze, more so as of late than ever before with his failed attempt at a relationship because he couldn't change and the threat of others that would fail for the same reason. Because he was...

"Hello little monster..."

Shocked surprise drew wide that cobalt eye as he instinctively turned just in time to catch that lance of crimson which sailed down the hall into his left arm, the other snagging that caster. He snapped the trigger back, bringing the power coils to life as he whipped the arcane weapon to bead down the hall. A whine, a pop, and the lance of blood froze in rapid succession back to the headless cat whence it spawned. There was a slow, mocking clap punctuated with staccato clicks as the woman sauntered into view, a cruel smile upon ruby painted lips. "You do so impress me." A coy purr as she carved a quick glyph with her fingers, the broken cat vessel splitting apart as that crimson servant lanced for Mach once more.

Monsters in the Dark (part 3)

"Together, they would watch everything that was so carefully planned collapse, and they would smile at the beauty of destruction."

- Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Mach choked as he felt that familiar intrusion, that grotesque bloom within him as thorny vines of crimson snaked around his organs. Once more he was made hostage of his own anger, the bile that drew upon his features only seeming to delight the woman as airy laughter escaped her. "Oh I do so adore that look of impotent rage upon your face....so exotic how it doesn't fit with who you are, who you pretend to be....How it makes you seem so vulnerable." She looked adoringly upon the man as she closed those last few feet so as to pull the caster from that impaled hand, letting it drop tot he ground with a clatter.

For Mach's part that single blue eye just followed the woman as she saunter around him, admiring her handiwork. "Y-You could have j-just asked.....I c-coulda gotten outta here....p-pick up a book o-of poetry to sh-show you my softer s-s-side yeah?" Defiance laced the man's words even as he whimpered softly at each knew intrusion, the remainder of the crimson servant from that dense ball wrapping around the man like a horrible vine, digging thorns into him so as to hold him still, hold him against any struggle while Yorada just circled around him.

"You are just too funny Elitia." Pouty lips curled upwards, made exaggerated by the ruby red paint of those lush pillows. Up close one would never have thought this one was a killer of children but then suppose there wasn't exactly a specific 'look' for that sorts.

"D-Don't you ca-call me that..!" His jaw ached as he clenched it, the tendrils that worked their way up caressing his features though not piercing them yet.

"Ohhh~ why not Eel-eye-sha?" She faked a pout before murdering the phonetics of his name in such a cutesy manner. "Come now, where's that bravado of yours" I sooo much prefer it when one is stubborn the very end....Do you know how their eyes light up when they finally realize the futility of it all" That all that effort placed into a false hope was meaningless in the end" It just...hmm!" The woman wriggled at the thought, a hand coming to press needy at the fold of silk that covered her lap.

This just had the schmooze rolling that one eye despite all the pain. "G-Great....m-must be grand f-fucking irony 'gainst me that I'mmm gonna find my end a-at the hands of a damn pervert." A chuckle gurgled from the hunter, the ill younger only growing as those vines tightened around him, the woman obviously not finding the irony as humorous as he.

Her expression dimmed as she looked haughtily at the ensnared hunter. "Yes....I think I will most certainly enjoy breaking you rather than just toying with you like the Ker."

"Wh-What makes you think you can t-tiny monster?" He grinned at the woman despite the thorns stabbing at the base of his neck, provoked her.

Of course his words seemed to have the opposite affect as she smiled thinly at the man, brilliant red nails gliding under his chin making him squirm. "Because I eat dogs like you for lunch." A venomous growl as she dug her claws in. "Like I did that Shark boy I'll do to you."

"S-Shark?"

The question had her smiling all bright and dimples. "Yes, Shark....a tragedy what happened to him..."

The woman's glib nature as she spoke so casually on such galled the hunter, a sneer rolling upon his lips which served only to delight the woman. "Y-You did not kill Shark..."

An airy laugh rose from the woman, the throned spines tightening ever so slightly with the malevolent joy. "Who do you think blew that nosy little whelp up, hmm' All for some worthless orphans....what a sap!" A dirty smirk crossed her as she let her fingers fall away.

"B-Bull..."

This drew an amused sneer from the woman. "How do you think a bomb ended up so deep in the U.T.R.A satellite office" Carried there by the valiant Shark using his emergency escape spell to whisk it away from that orphanage he so cared for. Predictable really but not even I could have hoped for him to have taken the bomb back to the satellite office! Now that was just precious."

"S-So you admit to k-killing a hunter in the p-p-pursuit of a cr-criminal" Of....ki-killing other personnel..."

Those words had her stop, slender brow lifting as she gave Mach an amused look. "And what if I am' What are you going to do about it?"

"E-Execute you....of course....in accordance t-to-" She cut off the man with a bubble of laughter.

"You're going to execute me"

Mach struggled to shrug as slight as he could in the confines of that deadly vine of crimson razors. "Y-Yeah....c-can't kill me..."

This had the woman quieting though humor still glittered in steel gray gaze which she locked with that solitary cobalt orb. "Oh' And why do you figure?"

"C-Cause she won't let you..."

This garnered a snort from the woman. "Oh little monster, you understand so little. She doesn't control us. We control her!" The hunter just gurgled a smirk, lips barely moving as he crackled something out with a grin. Yorada just gave him a look, leaning in. "Oh, don't tell me this is all y-"

"About time..." The words seeped out in a cold, seething calm as a chirp and a whir sounded from the floor, rising from that disposed of caster as the spell in the secondary processor finally counted down to zero. The woman, so very close to the hunter, barely had time to shoot the device an ugly sneer which was turned back at the hunter as there was a whiz and pop and....everything suddenly just felt weird. Like he had just been put through a car wise sans the car and while wearing asbestos lined wool everything from head to toe. A bland taste of nothing washed through him making him nauseous as hell as color and life drained from the world....it was a feeling the schmooze knew all to well. It was the same dick move he'd pulled on Lilith a few weeks back, the horrible discombobulation caused by a dispel spell being cast against a person.

Yorada doubled over, gasping in a wretch while Mach....well, this wasn't his first time trying to rip apart the matrix that was his own soul. He felt like crap because of it, but feeling like highly functional crap was something he was getting pretty good at as of very recent. And what more, he was free highly functional crap as those crimson vines and thorns suddenly lost their motive force, the spell that controlled them ceasing to exist so once more it all just turned back to festering blood that splattered over the man painting him vermilion. A fitting color for his as in one swift motion he pulled that knife from his pocket, the woman who was doubled over in illness grabbed by the hair, stabilized as the man turned reaper slammed that sliver of metal callously into the base of her skull, driving it into her brain stem.

The mage crumpled to the ground, stunned horror frozen upon her features as her mind was completely cut off from her body, unable to even sign or mumble out some death curse. It wasn't quite a bullet to the face but....oh wait, it was that too. A cold sneer sat firmly upon Mach's features as he followed up the knife with a single round of that jacketed hollow point from the revolver well and truly ensuring her death as the contents of her brain pan showered the tunnel. He almost pulled the trigger again but rationale caught him, his finger quivering with unrealized furor pried back unwillingly from the trigger as the man breathed in deeply and released a ragged breath.

"Bitch.? A cold word spat out as he reached down to pull his knife from the remains of the dead terrorist's head and to grab his caster from off the ground. Taking a moment to shakily swallow down one of those last regen potions he had the hunter chopped up some strips from that fancy silk dress the woman wore with little remorse so as to patch up the fresh cuts that were lethargic to close. And with that done he offered one last kick to the corpses derriere, a literal boot to the ass, before he set to shuffling on down that hall once more with an loathsome smile ticked on rugged features.

Denouement of the Apathetic

"Oh," the girl said, shaking her head. "Don't be so simple. People adore monsters. They fill their songs and stories with them. They define themselves in relation to them. You know what a monster is, young shade" Power. Power and choice. Monsters make choices. Monsters shape the world. Monsters force us to become stronger, smarter, better. They sift the weak from the strong and provide a forge for the steeling of souls. Even as we curse monsters, we admire them. Seek to become them, in some ways." Her eyes became distant. "There are far, far worse things to be than a monster."

- Jim Butcher, Ghost Story

"You've got to be fucking me?" The man's jaw slacked some as he watched the ghastly form slowly bubble and froth from the putrid mixture of blood in those four vats, coming to settle upon that macabre alter of flesh and bone between them. The intricate mandala carved into the concrete of the floor, into the very walls and ceiling of the warehouse buzzed and hummed with power as the creature grew in proportion, the air nearly palpable with the bristle of magic. He'd stepped from the bowels of hell into the very lair of the devil themselves it seemed and just how fucking typical that should be. Broken, falling apart at the seams without any regeneration potions left though they didn't seem to be working at the moment anyway and aside from that he had but a handful of poisons, four spells with one offensive one, a knife, and a single bullet which, yeah, all had been pretty serviceable as of late but not nearly what one brought against an eldritch horror. And sohe was fairly certain that long bullet he had was inevitably his bullet that was about to catch up with him though he'd never figured he'd be the one chambering such....Guess life really did get the last laugh in that department.

As the monster took to a rolling, malleable shape with far too many twisted limbs and appendages that shifted and morphed in and out of each other Mach just couldn't help but chuckle. Hell, he frankly burst into laughter; the insane, choking type that rattled from people who were equal parts terrified and truly tickled at the absurdity of their situation " and that was something to consider seeing the sort of situations the hunter had found himself in throughout the years! The "thing" craned the disfigured caricatures of heads it had as it regarded the man losing it. "Does the sight of me frighten you mortal""

"Ha! Hardly' c-comical really with all your wiggly jiggly bits!" A manic cackle escaped him as he tried for a cheeky smile though he really didn't have the teeth for such at the moment. Of course his barely shivering leg kind of gave away the terror that he was feeling but it certainly wasn't the terror that perhaps this one figured he was feeling. Mach had always figured himself okay with his own impending end as it did always hang over him with his highly dangerous profession. Even without such though he did have that unnaturally definite and close at hand shelf life. So the thought of his own mortality was something he had thought at length at and had grown accustomed to its weight' though staring at it so blatantly displayed before him as it was now made him seriously question that. Yeah, the monster was pretty ugly and unnatural but yeah, those were things he was pretty comfortable with.

Regardless the truth of the matter the "thing" seemed to be quiet pleased with itself as it wriggled and bounced haughtily. "Your voice and body reveal your falseness mortal."

"Oh' Maybe it's you who's afraid of me, yeah?" Despite the fear that clung to the man he pushed forward with reckless abandon, mouthed off with the best of them. "Quivering in your pots because I'm tearing apart all your little plans" in your bases killing your doods yo!" Oh he was being silly but then monsters usually never got cultural references so it was a pretty clever way to make them seem stupid and just a little smaller by the effort. Hey, every little bit helped!

And luckily this thing didn't seem much different as it simply rippled indignantly. "You have simply inconvenienced me mortal, a trifle and nothing more. I can gather more mortals seeking to worship me, more who would not be so foolish as to earn the ire of a god."

Listening to the creature Mach simply shook his head, tsking at the creature as though calling out a fibbing child. "God" Hardly."

"You dare to mock me mortal! I am Dukra"nas Vu Sirill"merchaar and you-"

"No you're not." Mach didn't think he could silence some room rumbling horror with such a plainly spoken observation but color him surprised!

The joy of such withered quickly though as he felt many, many eyes bear down on him. "What impertinence is this."

"Not impertinence" truth, yeah' Gonna ask me how I knew?" He smirked nervously as he played up that cheeky attitude as a distraction while his mind started to work the problem even with how little he knew and how much of what he did know was simply assumption. But then that was how he lived his life -gamble on the educated or most right seeming guess. And while he had lost so much along the way from such, particularly shown recently as such had certainly contributed not only nails but wood for the coffin of his relationship with Serah, it was why he was still alive to keep trying. Though really he didn't figure there was a solution to this that had him walking out of here" just ones that varied in how big a middle finger he gave life on the way out and, more importantly, how secure he left the world for those he cared for.

The horror, what or whoever it was, simply rippled as if considering the broken man before it, considered whether to call him out or not. For Mach's part he took this as an invitation. "She" they all refer to you as She" Groveling and salivatingly so too. But thing is the real Dukra"nas Vu Sss-omthinganother is the Crimson Lord."

Mach imagined that blub was the equivalent of a huff as the creature sprouted a few more formless limbs. "You base your opinion on semantics child of man""

"Really old semantics?" His grin was threadbare as he pushed forward "See, the destructive gods" the Dukra were all masculine" or you know, that's how ancient time folk referred to them all sexist and crap which is pretty silly since we all know bitches be far more vindictive but' " He waited a tick to see if that joke registered with the creature" no' Damn. "Anyway, nasty, violent feminine gods didn't start cropping up for a couple hundred years" you know, just before us ape children murdered the demigods like Dukr" no, not trying. Duvus" like Duvus. So yeah' not she" hell, not anything as the gender was just sort of assigned and not really a thing as I understand." The hunter couldn't help but smile at how smart he felt. Who knew book smarts would actually help him piss of some elder horror one day! "So, I think the question is who and what you are really..."

And piss off he certainly had as he felt the very air bristle with agitated energy, the creatures vermillion flesh rippling. "I am a god to the likes of you." The words rumbled through the air, reverberating through the man's body shaking him to quaking all his own. Yeah, fuck all those people who said they faced down big, bad, and unknowns without a shred fear. They were either lying, severally touched and suicidal, or dumber than a box of particularly dull rocks. Real courage was to keep kicking the pricks even when you were pissing in your own boots" at least Mach was fairly sure he'd seen a motivational poster with some rot or another like that on it before.

Of course right now it was all he could do just to keep smiling thin as he was. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty low of the low....trash among normal folk with normal views and normal lives, you can ask anyone that knows me." Even as he spoke the man started fiddling with his caster, removing case pins here and there so he could get to the inner workings. He had a plan....and it was a bad one. Any plan that required one to remove the limiters from their caster, the very limiters that prevented a spell from draining a person of their magic till they were dead, was a bad plan. This plan not only required that, but for him to amp up it's mana draining ability to boot. "Doesn't mean I don't have you dead to rights. You're no god....you're not even something worth worshiping. Just some domineering presence or some such bull. Why more and more of you're 'followers' have just been normies rather than keeping strong with the powered folks. Hell, I imagine most of them simply joined you out of what you could do for their cause....which, to me, sort of just makes you a tool, yeah?" The air all but sparked with hateful energy, the mandala's carved around the room humming. There was a scratch at the back of his mind, a thrum all his own though it was little more than an annoyance than anything. "Oooh, you don't like that do you....Sorry to say, but I'm not one of your flunkies....can't just control me to 'worship' you either you're lowness..."

"YOU WOULD DO TO HOLD THY TONGUE WHELP." The man couldn't help but to shrink away from that all pervading voice that boomed around him, tension working throughout his entire being. "Your insolent wag not only dooms you but all those whom you hold dear. I will see them all lain broken in supplication to me."

Despite his weak knees the man stood tall against the abomination. "H-Hurt those I care for" Right....you can't even leave this room!" Mach pause a moment for some form of maniacal laughter though when all he got was another agitated ripple he pushed forward. "These mandalas aren't for summoning you....they're for keeping you in....nothing but a puppet for the terrorist....a way to boost their power and ranks but-"

Mach barely had time to pull the trigger on his caster, a sick feeling as his panic feed that kinetic barrier spell more juice than he'd planned to but then perhaps that was for the best as he stared at a near wall of crimson blades halted before him....straining against the flimsy barrier hastily erected between himself and the monster. "S-So....s-some sort of d-demon wash out' An a-ap-apostle of the true crimson lord....or ju-just the remainder of some necromancers experiment....j-just a trash monster like me..."

"I WILL END YOUR INSOLENCE MERE MORTAL!" Mach felt the atmosphere grow crushingly think with hatred as the spears of crimson began to push him back, closing that bubble in on him. This was likely as good as he was going to get before whatever this she was just crushed him. Leasing the kinetic barrier spell to the holdout processor he loaded those last two cartridges. A dispel in the secondary chamber and the fire spell in the primary.

"Yeah....you will....but maybe I can take you with me..." He stared a moment at that caster, lip caught in a soft chew as he thought. But, as was always the case, time was no friend of Mach's....and now was no different. He was out of time for thought, for consideration. All he had time left for was moving forward. Lifting his caster up he aimed it at monster before pulling the trigger back to it's first hold position. With the protective covers discarded to the floor he could see the power cyclers spinning up, see the brilliant glow of the processors crunching that spell that he manipulated with input from his own latent ability to manipulate ether. Much like his idiocy down on the docks so many months back, Mach just kept piling up that spell, tweaking it into something terrible. He could feel it sinking it's claws into him, could feel how wrong it was and knew it was something he could not cast and live yet....it was something he knew he could do. And, well, he didn't have to survive it so there was that.

"What are you doing, mortal! Your ilk can not dare to stand against me!" That rumble was a savage growl proceeded by the resounding thuds of more razor sharp blades impacting into that shield, pushing the hunter further back as a gulch of blood dribbled from his lips. The spell wavered some under the assault but he had to juggle both, keep that protective spell going while his last spell charged up to the boom it had to be. Pushing more and more into that spell, the high pitched whir was soon a painfully howling surge that was all but deafening, a brilliant point forming before his caster that made sickly shadows dance wickedly along the walls. It was almost beautiful as he could see the wispy patterns of the ether dancing in his mind's eye, giving terrible form to that manifestation of an angry will. And when he felt it was ready, when the charge capacitors arced and smoked Mach set his thumb on the release for that protective spell, holding a moment as he closed his eye one last time, his thought wandering to those whom he did this for.

"Sorry everyone..." Words mouthed into the maelstrom just as he popped the leash with his thumb at the same time he snapped the trigger back through that second break causing the deadly matrix to collapse into a physical phenomenon. New pain blossomed along his form as a myriad of those crimson blades skewered into him, tore into his flesh though the most important bits were protected from that supernova that burned before him, growing and churning with arcane fury before that last bit of matrix collapsed giving motion to that barely contained inferno.

The air exploded with a series of thunderous booms as it warped into plasma from the heat, as that brilliant dispelling flame washed out before Mach. He may have been screaming as he pushed everything he had, everything that he could process from that volatile, energized atmosphere from the monsters rage. Anything and everything he could lay has grubby hands on was thrown into that spell as it blindingly wreaked havoc, burnt the very world away in it savagery. And soon he could feel the painful licks of energy as it curled back on him, blow back from the spell but he was committed and so rather than back of or fight he simply gave in to the ravages as all hell was set loose.

Time seemed to lose meaning in the brilliance of all that destruction, or maybe Mach had already passed and just hadn't realized it yet' It certainly felt as such as he felt like he'd been freed from a set of heavy shackles that weighed him down; as if this was what he was always supposed to be, or do. But just as soon as that euphoric feeling had come did it wash away as he felt the clutches of the world dig into him, dragging him back into the agonizing mire of reality. He could taste the blood on his tongue, the dry crust upon chapped lips as he slowly opened his eye to behold the devastation he had wrought....and what devastation it was.

The concrete shimmered and glowed as it radiated heat as a snow of black ash tumbled and danced through the air, the burnt flecks of all that blood and the melted vats whence they came from. And beyond that' he could see the subtle dark of night punctuated by the lights of the city, the view framed by the still glowing embers and dripping slag of that hole he'd burnt through the back wall, completely destroying that entrapment mandala. Well" that was certainly something, yet the sight of that freedom did more to stir him at the moment than any sort of achievement of badassery. Letting his focus fall back the schmooze finally saw why he couldn't feel his hand, why it ignored any and all attempts to command it' and why it hurt like all hell. Mach marveled at the burnt wreck that was once his arm and hand, the flesh ravaged and charred by heat and the wild energies that carved intricate patterns down to his very bone all the way up near to his shoulder. In his hand he could barely identify the hollow husk of what was his caster, all the major and most the minor parts that should have been shielded against such arcane affects now little more than slag dribbled and pooled on the ground before his feet. The man knew he should have been much more perturbed by the state of things, forlorn about his arm or alarmed by the blaring pain that radiated from all those wounds and insults that just weren't closing or the slug of dead vitae that dribbled now from his lips" but he just wasn't. He was too tired, to worn to care as he slowly drug himself forward, his legs and feet screaming at him to get off of the blistering hot concrete but this went as unnoticed as the rest.

No, the man moved as if he were possessed, that cooked and worthless arm still thrust forward, frozen as he shuffled along the eerie quiet of that warehouse, of that early January morning punctuated by the sounds of distant combat and soft sizzling. It was all like a dream, fuzzy and unreal as the man forced himself onward, forward one shuffling step at a time towards the last vestiges of that wreaked alter that stood as an affront amongst the glowing, warped cauldrons. It was a big damn middle finger to the man and, he figured, the source of this entire farce, the nasty behind the bloody curtain. Not that he had much with which to do anything about such but then that wasn't going to keep him from fighting to the bitter end. He ignored the acrid smell of burning, putrid blood, of sizzling iron as he shuffled around the spire of charred bones carved upon with the runes that still crackled in protective energies. Coming around back behind alter that lone cobalt gaze fell upon the totem that had summoned and bound that abomination to this world, to the seed of that eldritch horror.

"'damn it?" Mach hated the life he lead. He hated what darkness it had shown him and done to him, how it had broken him. He hated how it reforged him time and again, the same and yet always a little different, a little less human and a little more like the monsters that he hunted. But even still, seeing stuff like this renewed his hatred once again, reminded him of the curse he set himself up for and now had to suffer through. Pulling out that revolver with his one good hand the stolen gun was sighted in on the seed" sighted in on the heart which beat within the chest of that young girl that couldn't have been much different of age from the one who he had saved earlier. Likely another orphan, a throw away child that was needed to support that vile, unnaturally onyx stone that perversed her form with inky black tendrils that spread over and dug into her breast, slowly consumed her"She.

Mach didn't know what expression held upon him as he watched the tears stream down those youthful features, as she mouthed weak pleads to save her, to help her get that thing out from inside her, and how it hurt so very much. He felt like the lowest of the low when rail thin arms shuffled, shakily, trying to raise some guard against the monster that was the hunter, his stomach heavy and rolling at the terror that clung to them. But at the same time he was tapped, he had nothing with which to help her, no clue how to do such even if he did. All he had was what was laid before him " the center of it all, of that cult, of the madness that Sarai, Hope, and he had been trying to squash out' that had been ruining so many lives and threatened countless more were it to rise once more. And what more he could still feel that creature fighting, could feel it clawing at the back of his mind, the blood that oozed from his myriad of wounds being drawn in the direction of that mass that pulsed in time with the girls chaotic heartbeat. No, he had to make a hard decision. Dying was easy and killing baddies, while morally reprehensible, was a pretty easy choice too' but to sacrifice an innocent, to kill someone for the common good" That was how hunters died: not by the grievous physical injuries they typically faced in a hard lived lifetime, not by the turmoil of their lives so tainted by the service they gave, but piece by piece with every life that they had to snuff out that didn't deserve it but needed to be ended all the same.

Mach could feel his jaw tremble, his vision growing misty as he thumbed back the hammer to that revolver. "S-Sorry?" A weak willed apology as he pulled back smooth and crisp on that trigger. And then with one last resound in that crisp, peaceful morning he put an end to the Sanguine Hunt.