---

A shudder in the RamRail caused a shift in the boxes that awoke Marcus from a dreamless slumber. He'd been perched atop the precarious cargo for the last few hours and getting much needed rest for as long as he could manage, each one was packed with sardine packed supplies for the peripheral village of the Hierarchy and, despite this, there was just enough room left in each to allow shifting that caused the stacks to be unstable. Not so much as to ever risk losing the contents, but then these sorts of freight had never meant to have civilian passengers and so they were a death sentence if Marcus had got caught between two in motion. Additionally, boxes did not need to see and so all the lightning had been turned off to conserve power and he was forced to rely on the dirty light that could penetrate the mottled shielding around the doors. He had been trapped in this space for the last few days, the routine buzzing of the chrono on his wrist kept him conscious of the date and time, but the stifling heat from the engine beneath him and the danger of crates meant the entire journey was feeling more like a jail sentence than a job. He hadn't expected first class or a motorcade, of course, but he had hoped his bosses wouldn't have been so cheap as to pack him away like equipment. Yet here he was.

Each box was stamped by the triangle pierced by a scroll of the Hierarchy and had stencilled into it the contents. All was probably quite inaccurate given the corruption of the bureaucracy - last calendar year there had been over six thousand executions in the finance department alone - and especially as Marcus had looted from one damaged crate a replacement grapple and line to replace the older model he had had. Stretching to the left with a crack, and then to the right, Marcus could barely himself think over the rattle of the carts on the rails and the buzz of generators directing power to whatever subsystems were meant to keep the place habitable to inanimate objects. They seemed to suck all of the moisture out of the air and replace it with an intolerable heat. Chapped lips were a worry of a past, replaced by genuine fear of dehydration followed by delirious gratitude to his Ma for teaching him to make hydration tablets on a shoe string budget. But even those were running out and they were no replacement for a cool glass of water. Marcus had heard there was a lake near the village and he fully intended to dunk his whole head under before he got to work looking for anyone whatsoever.

Skintails, rats that seemed to thrive on waste into nasty, brutish and wretched versions of themselves, occasionally became visible from the glimmer of their eyes but quickly darted back out of sight. At first a small gaggle had tried to nibble at Marcus whilst he slept, but the slash of his knife and a few shots quickly asserted his pre-eminence over the pack in the train. Now they were a helpful reminder of his fate if he failed this mission. The powers that be were never a forgiving sort and his was a long line of debts to payback for. Most not of his own creation, but then debt forgiveness upon the death of a parent had been rescinded long ago. Now, caught in the web of indebtedness and oaths, Marcus was looking for the final piece to unlock his lifelong puzzle. Suddenly, a screech of metal on metal broke his thoughts and Marcus ducked into a crevice built into a wall section and braced himself. The screeching got louder and then the train shook as a new cart rammed into the back and immediately joined the growing convoy of freight.

RamRail, so named for the technology that made it useful, functioned cheaply by having engines run twenty four seven up and down the lines, with stations collecting cargo along the route and firing full carts into the back, known as Ramming, to connect up and be carried along the line until disengaging and diverting off the rails to their destination. It was fully automated, apart from some mechanics and maintenance engineers, and had made some very influential people very wealthy. As the cart returned to normalcy Marcus pulled himself up and felt out where his boxes now lay before finding a new position to lay down and try to get more rest. It would do his back and head no good to enforce this much sleep, but the alternative was even more miserable. It would be another two days before the cart he had boarded disengaged and rolled into the RamRail depot for Brightlingsea. Loaders and porters deactivated the shielding and hauled the locking restraints back, only to wretch at the stench of of man who stepped out with a wide, if weary, grin. Coated in grime that had been kicked up in the cart and stuck to his sweat soaked body and carrying a bag filled with his waste from along the route he must have seemed like a homeless ghoul to even these brutes. But he still managed a chipper nod and then hopped down, moving between the confused faces, and marched off on his way to the village which stood a few stories high the other side of the depot.

His thick boots were steel capped and his clothes bulked to contain as much protection as he could afford, as well as conceal some of the more archeotech equipment he used to capture the very specific quarry that he hunted. Moving between the other carts being loaded and unloaded, Marcus hurled his waste behind one untouched structure for some unlucky soul to find and diverted for the gateway that led through the chain link topped with razorwire that acted as protection. One of the men on duty noticed him quickly and sniffed the air before his face split in disgust. "What the bloody hell are you, and why'd you stink? Homeless ain't allowed round here, how'd you get in?" Marcus noticed the worn Hierarchy overalls and the tremor of a drinking mans hand. This was hardly a patriot of the state.

"Got lost the other side of the rails, chum. Almost got taken out by the latest one coming in, just had time to dart over here before I was red paste on the tracks!"

"You get what you deserve wanderin' 'round the tracks like that." The man sniffed, scratching a particularly flaky patch of skin on his chin.

"Ah, but then one of you would be in the dog house until you cleaned up my brain matter. I feel I saved you a job, didn't I?"

"S'pose. Pretty well dressed for a bum, though. Where you from?"

"Oh, I travel about a bit. Find jobs wherever I can. Used to Sherriff up Routlidge way, that was until they closed the office." The employee kissed his teeth in sympathy of another stiffed worker and Marcus knew he was fine. ""So, you think I could get into town? I'd really like a drink and a lie down." There was a nod and Marcus thanked the man before moving around the arm of the barrier on the tarmac road into the depot and out into the short distance between the outermost buildings of the village and the depot proper. Spring had just arrived and the crisp autumnal air was receding in favour of warmer, but that hadn't kept the edge of a chill from nipping at the flesh and forcing people into coats. Marcus was once again thankful for his thick working gear, and practically ecstatic for the freshness as compared to the 3recyled air of the rail cart. Now, where abouts was that lake...

---

Asher off the Brightlingsea, a small little fishing village that the hierarchy overlooked completely until the summer. Its main export was a fish that was considered a delicacy. They would come in the summer and fish it into near extinction, spoiling the poor people who lived there with their money. Then leave at the end of summer, for the rest of the year. Collecting their money back as taxes. It was sad really, though not as sad as the patriot of the hierarchy. Who was a drunken gambler, and far too easy to convince Earie would turn him into a toad, fry him, and eat him if he brought her presents here.

The village itself was beautiful in terms of nature. That was starting to fight its way into life with spring starting to set in. With the winds however, people were still forced into their coats. Though the village town center garden was a sight to behold. Normally it would have been just beginning to bloom in this weather. Yet it stood lively and bright. A small token and show of power Earie had given villagers carelessly. It would die as soon as she left of course. Long before the hunters would come looking for her. However, it had earned her some favor though. Now the villagers were her eyes with the understanding that if she was ever caught, she wouldn't rat.

In terms of buildings, the village was rather run down. Most of the buildings clearly needed a fresh coat of paint. Or a few things fixed here or there. Towards the lake there was even a house that obviously had caught on fire quite a few times. The outside charred. It had been abandoned. At least until the young witch had found her way into town and began squatting there.

The short brunette rubbed her brow slightly as her fingers reached up taking the lantern that provided light in the room with one hand and a small bag in the other. Its inner walls were still black from the soot, and floors damaged and the house might have still smelt of smoke. Though it was possible part of that smell might have been from some of the spells she was trying. It hadn't been the one Earie was expecting, but it would be great for some defense. Still with the windows boarded up it did make it slightly hard to breathe. For the last two months at least this had been her home though. It was nowhere near the niceties she had years again, but it had been safe for the time. Had having to be on the move not became her normal, she would miss it.

Sitting the lantern on the hard wooden floor, she put all of her strength into pulling the heavy wooden board open before grumping slightly. With some annoyed mumbling and a hand gesture, the door opened quickly and she had to catch it could open all the way and fall on her again. So maybe that she wouldn't miss. Taking a deep breath Earie's light brown eyes looked around the beautiful lakeside in front of the house. The dress she wore moving slightly in a slight breeze. It once had been really nice at one time, the type of clothing that was expected for a proper middle class lady to wear. Now though it was definitely worn. Her boots, lightweight regular boots that came to her knees to keep her legs warm and protected while in the woods. Grabbing the messenger bag that carried everything she needed to keep, Earie headed towards the lake.

She sat beside the lake dropping her hands into the water mumbling again. The water warmed at her touch, the point she was able to clean arms and face up with it. "Aye, witchy lady!" Earie looked up to see one of the village boys headed her way, and put a finger to her lips to tell him to quiet down. The boy rolled his eyes as he got closer but obliged. "I got a basket from village since you're headin' out." The boy said, handing her the basket, which she immediately started to go through. Bread, dried meats and fruits, a flask of water, and from the smell of it one full of gin. Along with a few small items she could probably trade later. With a bit of a smile Earie opened her bag digging until she found some money to hand the boy. "Those are some weird looking books you got there."

Earie snapped her bag shut. "That they are, you should probably forget you saw those, yeah? They got me in a lot of trouble to get." She said frowning a bit as she handed the boy some money for his trouble. The boy quickly grabbed the money with his greedy hands and nodded a bit, still looking at her bag. "Now run along."

The boy frowned a bit at the fact he wouldn't be able to sate his curiosity and started to head off. "Oh, s'pose you should know. There's some homeless guy wonderin' around town. That's the same you were lookin' for right?" He added as he headed off.

Earie's eyes widened a bit as she cussed under her breath and started stuffing the items into her bag quickly. Shit, they had moved a lot quicker this time. If this was another of the hierarchies grooms. Normally she would be months ahead of them. Grabbing her bag she headed for the woods.

---

Peeling paint and chipped wooden fencing spoke volumes to just how destitute this village had become under the rule of the Hierarchy. Everything seemed to be forlorn, lagging in the gentle breeze that came down from the hills on the other side of the lake. Moss and grass had wormed through the asphalt of the roads and people seemed to walk everywhere, making the asphalt itself redundant as it was. The stench of fishing clung to the air and gave everything a salty texture. The air, the people, and even the buildings seemed built to suit a single purpose and that purpose was fast fading. Yet they had the sun, and the fresh air! Marcus knew of people living in some of the new Common-Plexes who would never see or feel either ever again. Did these folk not realise just how lucky they were? Perhaps, he mused, it was hard to when for many of them they had probably known a better time.

Even so, the lack of homelessness was a delightful break from the poverty that clung to larger cities and Marcus made sure to offer a toothy grin to the inhabitants he passed. Most starred with unabashed intrigue, clearly strangers did not venture out here often, and he did not want to alert any of them to the quite serious reason for his arrival. There was nothing he could do about them taking a guess given the equipment he had thrown over his person and he spent far more of his attention scouring dark windows and creaking doors for anybody staring too hard. He was here to hunt a Wytch. The ones he had brought in before had all been manipulative, devious, and sly creatures; he knew to be on his guard in places like this. Turning down a lane that wound around a fairly large squarish house Marcus passed a grand public garden and whistled at its beauty. Winding creepers adorned old stonework that structured a maze of multicoloured flowers and the scent was overpowering, even with the wind blowing down and forcing folk into the collars of their coats.

She was here then.

It was entirely natural and absolutely not. There wasn’t a chance something was doing that to the place and Marcus knew it had to be whatever kind of powers the Wytch possessed. He had never been privy to such things or how they worked, he trusted in the reliability of science and technology, but he couldn’t deny these magics had some strength. It was why he subtly shifted and clicked the protective cover off of the holster where his gun remained stowed. Arounds the side of the garden he could see down a winding path to the lake. It sat quite still, a perfectly serene pool of glittering light that reflected from the sun. Boats had been pulled up onto the bank on one side and even from here Marcus could spy some figures going about the business of making them watertight again. His eyes shifted on quickly and he spied the blackened house. Perhaps an old fisherman’s house? Odd they hadn’t demolished it yet, but then Marcus was all too aware of official inertia and the time it took any government controlled place to do anything. Whistling a jaunty tune he made off down the track and kicked little piles of mud that had been pushed up by moles.

He was enjoying himself, he had no doubt, and Marcus was looking forward to a chance to clean his face and sit quietly for a brief moment. He felt freed from the prison of the RamRails. He could afford five minutes to himself. Moving the opposite way up the path a young boy came trotting back, big eyes watching Marcus as he passed. The older hunter gave the lad a nod and smiled but the boy remained totally stony, even stopping and moving out of the way. It was odd, as if the boy was accusing him of some crime but Marcus didn’t know which one. Nothing to do but press on and so Marcus just carried on his way and meandered down to the water before leaning down to cup the cool refreshing liquid and drink greedily from his hand. It wasn’t the cleanest water and the gritty bits of dirt reminded him not to have too much, but compared to the hydration pills it was better than ambrosia. Gulping a few more mouthfuls he then used another to wipe down the back of his neck before standing and looking around.

He came to look at the blackened building and he was overcome by intrigue. He was an adventurer at heart and a quick nose wouldn’t do any harm. Moving closer, Marcus got a better idea of just how decrepit this place was. It seemed to groan and almost shift in the breeze as if it might collapse at any moment. He would have to be careful. Climbing the stars to a landing and pushing at the cracked door he peered inside and froze. The door had fallen inwards and sitting in the middle of the soot coated communal space were all the signs of a squatter. Patches of dirt cleaned by the presence of a blanket or something, the remains of a dinner tucked into a basket, and the stench of someone living without indoor plumbing over the top of something far more… arcane. Marcus ran back from the house in a start. She had been here! She had to have been, and recently. His memory recalled the boy and he cursed. Clearly he’d missed someone running away from him.

But where had she gone? Back into the village was unlikely, but there were still many directions to go. She could have headed towards the fishermen, or up towards the hills, down into the forests… or even just out across the plains! Marcus cursed again, more loudly this time, and then drew four plate sized discs from the back of his belt. With a click he activated them and watched as the smaller drones whirred into life then lifted into the air. A dancing of fingers on his wrist companion sent them shooting into the sky and veering about to begin searching the area. It would be slower than he liked but the best he could manage. Even so, Marcus didn’t want to stand still and he weighed up the options. He didn’t know much about his quarry… except the garden! Plants. She must have done something to the plants. Breaking into a trot down towards the forest he hoped he was making the right call.

---

Normally Earie would have had a better escape plan. She would have been gone long before the Hierarchy sent their hunters. Clearly they were getting smarter now, which meant that she would have to as well. Though now was not the time to think of such silly things as the future, right now was the time to get through the forest and disappear. She had just gotten to the edge of the forest as the hair on the back of her neck stood, causing a shudder to come over her. A sign that her current threshold had been entered. Though if it was the hair standing or the fact this hunter was so close that caused the shudder, she couldn't be sure.

This forest was quite the large one, full to the brim of animals which the villages around hunted for food. Yet the longer Earie herself was running through it, the quieter it seemed to get around her. An odd side effect of having a being with magic within it. Though at the moment, running for her life, the deafening quietness was unnerving. As if her footsteps echoed, though she knew they would not. After a while of running she had to stop to catch her breath, she knew that whomever had to be far enough behind. Between her head start and the denseness of the forest itself for someone who hadn't been in it. Looking around she saw a slight indent of a path someone had made, there was likely a hunters post around somewhere. This was where it looked like they pulled the wagons of their kill through. Taking the bottom of her dress she pulled the dress until a piece ripped from it. Sticking it on the lower thorn bush muttering a spell as a clear set of footprints headed down the open trail. Before heading through the rougher part of the woods the other way. If she was lucky this one would fall for the simple trick as many had before him. After all, what person would rather fight their way through the rougher patch when the path could lead to help? An idiot that was who. As if they wouldn't turn her over to a hunter of the Hierarchy, if they were even there.

By the time she was able to see the edge of the forest, her feet were killing her. Her chest hurt from running, arms and legs cut up slightly from the thorns and thick woods she had run through. However, she knew this would be a straight shot once she got out of the woods. Just over the field between villages she could catch a trolley to get farther away. Of course she wouldn't stop at the next town ahead, maybe a few…...the sight of a plate sized disc caught the corner of her eye. Well fuck. She cussed under her breath before twisting her fingers and muttering a spell. The plate sized disc caught fire before it blew up. Had she the time to enjoy the effect of her brand new spell she might have. However, the explosion was rather loud in the quiet forest. Pushing her way through the opening into the clearing she took a deep breath before starting her way through the open field.

---

The days cooped up in the carriage hadn’t done wonders for the fitness of the hunter but, with the fresh air beginning to whip across his face and the scent of wild flowers swirling, Marcus felt alive in a way he hadn’t done so for a very long time. Trapped in the spires and towers of the bigger cities where clouds of smog choked the heart and soul of folk. Out here, amidst the wilds and nature that still hadn’t been corrupted by the Hierarchy there was an energy. The blood pumped gently as he fell into a steady rhythm jogging towards the winding trunks of the trees that rose before him. Stories suggested that eyes would constantly be watching him from under dark, shadowy boughs but he couldn’t see them. Either they were very good or they weren’t actually there.

Deeper and deeper Marcus ran, finding the latter explanation of no creatures to be ever more convincing. Strange, he reasoned, as the patchwork of trees was broken by the rutted and worn dirt tracks left by beasts. These made the journey somewhat easier. The thick jacket and hunting equipment protected him from whipping branches and long tangles of nettles that tried to rake his skin. Despite this he still struggled, however. He didn’t know the routes and paths of the forest and with his head lowered to the ground to try and follow any path that he might find, he wasn’t paying attention to obstructions ahead. He collided with trees more times than he cared to count and was just glad that none of the other hunters were around to see it.

Finally, he came to a small clearing and chuckled to himself. A tear of clothing was caught on the branches of some thorns and seemed to show faint prints leading towards one of the animal tracks. It made sense, he reasoned, that the witch would make for a quicker route and it meant he’d be able to avoid the worse of the rough foliage. The plan seemed so perfect, until the wrist companion chimed over and over to indicate a drone had found something. Loading the small camera feed, a little shaky image displayed a woman breaking from the cover of the forest and onto a field. The locator pinged a direction vastly different to the one the tracks led and he swore. He hated tricksy prey, they almost always weren’t worth the bounty they warranted. Still, he had a job to complete and dove back into the thickets and bracken.

The ping of the drone was the guidance he needed until it was gone. A loud boom not too far ahead coincided with the loss of the drone. Confused, he paused briefly to inspect the feed and noted the hand signal that preceded static. The witch was also dangerous, it seemed, and Marcus cursed the contract once more. She knew she had been spotted, now he needed to up the tempo and close the distance. Luckily, a hunt was everything he had trained for and his physical fitness was the strongest asset he had, next to some technological gadgetry. When the edge of the forest came into view sweat ran down the forehead of the hunter in thick beads and his hair stuck back against his skin. Blood pumped loudly in his ears but he knew he could, and would have to, go further yet. Breaking cover he stood on the edge of the field he had seen before and scanned the near distance.

It took two sweeps before he spotted the moving form of a figure ahead of him. She was close, but still so far away, and there was bound to be further tricks yet. He had to slow her down somehow. Initially, he broke back into a run. He couldn’t allow any further distance to be built between them. Secondly, he typed in a command to the two remaining drones to circle in on his position so he could dispatch them to monitor the witch from a distance he reckoned was safe. He knew if she made it to another patch of cover like a forest again he’d find everything more difficult and he wanted to head her off before she could make for the… the RamRails. Lines of them weren’t too far on the other side of the field and if she made it onto a rail he couldn’t do anything to stop her.

He didn’t have a rifle, he didn’t have a partner, he didn’t even have a friend in the tracks that might tell him the destination of the Rails she jumped on. He did have some explosives. Not much good for throwing from here but he had a few things that were faster. Reaching down he deposited two microgrenades into his palm and set the charges to detonate on impact. A drone was summoned a moment later and typing in further commands, he set it a single task. To fly up, over, and ahead of the target to drop the grenades. It was his hope the explosions would divert the witch off her trajectory enough that he could close the distance to within shouting distance.