Oak eyes closed, blinked, shielded themselves away from the chaos around him. The slight thrum against his temples, stress perhaps? Headache, the word came to him on the throbbing sensation.  Yes, a thing not used to by any measure, and of course the source of such a plight was the acting. It was -easy- to rip, chew, slash right through, but this? This was stressful boys and girls. This wasn’t as fun as one thought at first, but then…

Perhaps Vel used that low count of brain cells creatures show at times. As if the idea just struck him, and in truth it did, a quizzical look on his face. 

Mozart, well, reportedly is a good example of what happened.

They would always dim the lights before the orchestra played. The young music lord to be, thought it was to make the colors brighter. You see, he had a condition known as synesthesia, where different vibrations and tones pitch colors to the brain. Mozart didn’t know that everyone else couldn’t see them. It surprised him in fact to learn that others couldn’t, and that the lights dimmed merely to focus people's attention.  

Vel was surprised that not everyone else could smell the magnesium.
Even further he was confused by the fact, if they wanted him, why not go get him?

Ah, I see.

There is no slow pace in grace, is there? Grace is rhythm, timing, not laziness. There was a warbeat in his movements. There was thunder in the quiet way that his paws… feet… moved across the concrete, not a single pebble daring to rattle away. Oh, it was human teeth that showed, but at least Vel kept himself from a glimpse of anything sharp. Traitorous oak eyes, that so very much wanted to be green or glowing gold, moved between the scenes till at last it settled upon Babd. To the Lady they rested, not hunted, nor threatened, but gentle soft above that honest smile.

A slight flourish and a mad hatter bow was given.

“From you a kiss and I’ll bring him to you, nary a hair touched on his pretty little head.”


Sweet smile for Babd became a sugar toothed half smirk, as casual gaze was sent to the Raven. Not a challenge, not mockery, but an animal taking a trophy from another. See, there was no challenge, or at least the Wolf thought. I know you now. I know your tricks, trickery, and soft spots. 

I should end you right now, pest.
“Oh? And it will cost Huginn a feather as well.” 

The Wolf stopped the body that once was Mal from its overly playful movements.
Don’t you see though? It was the opportunity to be himself. To get just a little bit of the steam pressure out of his skull. Though it wasn’t doubt which answered back to him in the Lady’s eyes. It was a contract nearly signed. Almost there Vel, he thought to himself now that he was able to clearly think to himself. Almost there.

“Complete annihilation it is.”

Vel saw it. 
Tasted it on Babd’s gaze as she looked at him.
Contract signed.


“You and your sisters demolished an entire city, the least I can do is take care of an ant.”
Deal done.

There it is, right there if they knew. It was the body which remembered how to behave in a court. Vel didn’t ignore instinct, and now knew the value of other ways of thinking of things. Look at how courtly he was, a noble soldier.


“Just be mindful of that, it looks like a pregnant roller skate.” 
Vel motioned with his index finger towards the mini-electric car parked there just on the side of the road. There was some rubble around it, but it was in no jeopardy of exploding.

And also it looks like what now?

Your attention was turned wasn’t it? You looked at that thing first before you asked the question about the joke. It was one of those thousands of magicians tricks humanity even from childhood seem to know. Remember that game? Isn’t that how cards transform from one into another? Don’t you hear the school yard bully all but singing ‘Haha made you look’? 

Not hidden behind a curtain.
Not tucked inside a box one could stab swords through.

Do you remember how that puddle of black vanished when eyes weren’t on it?
That was because it was no longer needed here. No longer needed to be seen. So, it was gone. Now, Vel had no purpose to be here. Vel no longer needed to be seen. So, look away, Queen. Just over there sir Raven.

Deal is made. All that Vel needed to know.

Like a shadow when light is lifted to it.
Like a monster under the bed when the flashlight was turned on.

Vel, was gone.

Who was this man made of bats?
Why would something so odd be proud of him right now?
Such strange thoughts and memories the Wolf was finding in himself.
Vel wasn’t even sure why the event had such feelings of joy attached to duping them.

Don’t forget though.
Odin was a good teacher at times, wasn’t he Huginn?
Taught by a trickster God. Fun.
Not smashing through a giant golem kind of fun, but a different kind. A sneaky kind. A childish level of complexity, and that’s what made it so damned funny at times, wasn’t it Raven? Outsmarting mortals with stupidity. Why wouldn’t that be funny to a God of gods?

Gotcha!

[hr]

Every hunter, no matter how arrogant, knows there is a chance that they’ll come up against something that puts them down. It could be a Wolf. Could be a parasite like a Vampire. Could be a walking, rather upset, woman made up cities like lego bricks. Thankfully he hadn’t stepped on any, but he sure as shit stepped into something hadn’t he?

Fear is something that pushes someone to be fast, to be quick, to do what needs to be done.
James ran, jacket with its magnesium scented jacket flapping in the wind.

This wasn’t the only place rented, a little roach hotel not far from here. The kind where a bright smile and fake identification was copied. The kind that didn’t mind him paying in cash. The kind people could vanish inside easily.

It didn’t take long to get there, ten minutes, fifteen? 
The battle raging on in the distance, growing quieter, quieter… stopped.

Door was closed tight behind him, but James didn’t bother with the weak looking painted bronze chain that came standard in rooms like this. Nothing that possibly could have followed his wake would even notice something like that.  Hurried, scared, but not panicked no… not that… the man dug beneath the bag to pull out a black duffel bag. Tools of the trade were on display inside in drop bag style jumble as the zipper was pulled free, but first thing done was to tuck that black little earbud into his right ear. Second was pushing a quick set of numbers into a burner phone.

“I know. I know”
From the bag another sawed off shotgun pulled, a clack of it opening, James making sure the telltale yellow marks of Dragon Breath shells were there. The sharp sound of it clacking closed followed by his next set of words.
“You hate it when I burn one of your voice mails like this. Whole hassle of having to set a new one up and all that.”
A knife, not smooth but with a wicked spear like indentation at the tip. It was divers who used such devices. After a good jab into an animal underwater, there was a little button right there near the thumb. A C02 cartridge in the handle would unleash, and the hidden channel would inflate the wound. Handy tool. Can really deter a shark, inflate a fish you want to the surface, or blow a big nasty hole in something above the surface.

“But this is one of those calls I guess. So, thanks. You are one of the people who get it.”

Yes, James had been a murderer, but that is killing people. How many nightmares had he slain? How many monsters who thought they could out monster humanity? That at least gets some respect in certain communities. Particularly since they never figured out just why he was so good at hunting. Contacts come with that territory doesn’t it? Even David had an army at his back when he slew Goliath. Some even had the pleasure of having friends. Some even have a Clarice to their Hannibal. 

Somewhere between, was the ‘drop box’’s owner. 
He knew the routine won't be listened to till some time tomorrow.
That is why he called it. That is why he left his Goodbye there.

A certain kind of people are called Hunters. You had to learn how to kill, all kinds of shit, to be able to use a name like that. It really took care of itself, either you ended up a corpse, or a hunter. There wasn’t any between for people who have scars. There wasn’t ever much of a hesitation when people like them asked, do you want to know the truth?

“I found him. I know, I know… “ 
The repeating of those words, like a nervous tick. ‘I know I know’.

“Moby, white whale, blah blah. There’s something else here. Something big here. It made some sort of giant out of the shit…”

A sigh, and the man just had to shake his head. Now his mind was allowing him to come to the terms of the truth to which he was telling the recording.


“I kid you not Wings”
His pet name for the receiver of this message
“It would swat Mothra. So be careful around these parts for a while.”


As if coming back to the reality of not life changing events, but rather getting moving or get ready for the dying, the man loaded a few more goodies into his belt line. Into that jacket that he next grumbled about.

“Ruined my good jacket, can you believe it? You never told me I looked good in it, but I know you thought so. Yeah, go ahead and admit it, I know you did.”

There wasn’t as much emotion in the man’s voice as there should be. Just flat tones of certainty. Yes, it took a certain kind of person to be a hunter. 
You needed to be fucking stubborn and James was that.
Yes, James was that.

“I’m leaving you something. Rooms here for a week, 104. Treasures in the normal place, and the cards? I know you’ll check them, but they should be good for the month. Something's in the box, and no, it’s not an engagement ring. So don’t panic.”

His fingers took a second to run along the edge of several credit cards in a leather holder, but it lingered, stayed longer than it should have with that small jewelry box.

“First round is on me as usual, and I hope it’s at the bar while you’re playing this in my face. Calling me stupid and ordering another drink. ?You know me though. I’m that ‘hold my beer idiot’, and not even nuclear bombs and all that. Well, a cold one in hell doesn’t sound so bad either I guess.”

Do you remember that animals get distracted by phones? By their thoughts? By their own heads, and worst of all…
…the sound of their own voice?

James heard something, it wasn’t a step, or a crunch. It just was…quiet… as if the air had already been inhaled and left but a vacuum of tense anticipation.

“Gotta go, wish me luck.”

We learned earlier the man was good at this, turning, pulling a trigger with those almost trademarked sawed off shotguns with their specialized ammo. 

Nothing was there.
No Wolf.
No giant.

No panic either, no not that.

A moment to calm the racing heart, James stashed the bag again below the bed.

He made it out to the parking lot, even managed to get the keys into the door of that stashed vehicle James was attempting to escape in. Change locations, but that hunch was correct. That feeling deep inside the feeling he wanted to deny was in truth perhaps that premonition good hunters get.

Today was the last day.

There was no turning. There was no shotgun blast. The voice was on the back of his neck, right there against him. Hot, heavy, wet, hungry words, that were the last things James heard.
[hr]

How do you hunt something that was quite literally trained to slay Wolves?
Interesting isn’t it? A wolf asking that? But the answer was simple.
You don’t act like a Wolf.

No, Vel did not enter that room, though he could have.
That’s what a Wolf would do, and it would have netted him a fiery blast.
Instead a trick of the birds was used.

The Wolf waited, not just for the opportunity, but for Huginn to catch up.

Did the Raven notice the claw marks to where Mal had traveled? Or that it was as straight as, ahem, the crow flies? Come on now, get here already, the show is about to start.

Not from the dark places, but from the roof, there in the glaring sun to hide him… like a Hawk. Vel lept, soft as dreamless sleep, he landed behind the man.
That growling voice spoke.

“You smell like a Nelsen. Funny, killed a few of your family before. Don’t remember it being this easy.”

The back of the James’s head was seized, skull forced sharply forward with swift inhuman strength. Crunch. Both the side of the cars roof, and James’s face went. A dent in both, the human’s features, and the body of the red unignited car with peeling paint. Human’s were such fragile things. A gurgling sound, James wasn’t dead yet. Good.

Lifting him like a toy, a smashed, bleeding, limp toy by that grip that had yet to relinquish, Vel dragged the human off his feet. Held him high for Huginn to see. Vel grabbed the man's forearm, not by the wrist because that separates easier, and tore from James his limb. Like the hunter had taken from the Goddess? Demon? Walking city?

A tearing, bone snapping, tendon shredding sound. Wet. Red.
Gurgling screams.
The other arm.
More screaming gurgled, before trauma alone silenced James.
Again Vel tossed this bit of the hunter away without a thought.

Free hand, (that looked like a claw just for a moment there, didn’t it Huginn? ) dove into the hunters ruined jacket, as he hung there in the air. Vel found the tool of the trademark, that sawed off, that too smelled of magnesium. The Wolf pressed the barrow underneath the near-corpses chin, pressed it against the throat, pressed its form to aim at the spine.

“Obliteration.”

The Wolf whispered as if understanding the term for the first time, and pulled the trigger to send a spray of flame through. Severing spine. Searing flesh. Decapitating without claws or teeth.

Weight suddenly was a lot lighter. Only holding the head, but this too was dropped a moment later. A foot coming down, popping it like that one suicidal balloon at a party. It wasn’t to the gore, or the mess, or the pieces of James that Vel was looking once the red spray was out of the air. No, it didn't even matter to him now he seemed to be half covered in a new shade of red. Instead that hand, covered in drying fluid, reached up towards the distance between himself and Huginn.

No words needed, the statement clear…
Pay up.