Redemption
by HMHVV Hunter
“It is his capacity for self-improvement and self-redemption which most distinguishes man from the mere brute.�
-Aung San Suu Kyi, “Freedom from Fear�
What makes a man worthy of redemption? Is it ever too late to atone for ones’ crimes? Is there a point where someone has simply gone too far to ever be redeemed? What makes a man worthy of it? For that matter, is it only a man that can find redemption – or can monsters find it too? I used to think the answers to those questions were so clear, so cut-and-dried. Now I’m not so sure.
I suppose I should introduce myself before I go further, or this little tale might not make much sense. I go by the name “Helios� among shadowrunners and other members of my chosen profession. That profession is an HMHVV hunter. Vampires, ghouls, wendigo, the monsters that prey on humanity – they are my prey, my targets, my paycheck.
Been at this for 14 years, ever since I was 16 years old and I came home from a night out with friends to find my entire family killed and about to be turned by a bloodsucker. Killed that fucker for what he did – made him feel every second of it, too. That was the night I Awakened as an adept.
The job has its hazards, sure. I’ve come close to death – or worse, being turned – more times than I care to think about. But I’ve come a lot further than most hunters I’ve fought alongside (when I’ve bothered to fight alongside them – I tend to hunt alone whenever possible). This is one of those jobs with a high learning curve; one mistake early on, and that could be it for you. The fact I’ve survived 14 years, despite my share of mistakes, either means I’m one lucky son of a bitch, or that I really am one of the best. I’ll let others decide which one it means. For me, it just means I’m alive and still hunting, and that’s what matters.
Never exactly shown mercy to any of the monsters I’ve hunted either. Why should I? Did those bastards show mercy on the poor schmucks they sucked dry for their own twisted existence, their perverted thrills? I must have killed hundreds of HMHVV monsters and never met one that did. But recently I may have met the exception to that rule – or maybe…I don’t know. I’m still trying to make sense of it myself.
I’ll start off where this story really begins, at the tail end of a “fumigation� run I ran with several other hunters.
“Fumigation� is hunter slang for “if it moves and it’s Infected, kill it.� We’re sent in to take out every Infected target in a given area. Difficult job, typically with a very high chance of dying or being turned, which is why those jobs sometimes pay enough to cover rent in a snazzy condo for a year before being divvied up among team members.
This particular fumigation run was on an apartment complex in the Renton district of the Seattle Metroplex, which is where I just happen to call home. Seems that a gang of ghouls calling themselves Mordiggian’s Bastards were seeking to make a name for themselves in the district, and decided to make their mark by bushwhacking a three-story apartment building, killing the residents and making it their “base of operations.� They’d holed themselves up in the building, shooting at anyone who approached too closely – and with all the residents that they’d killed in there, they had enough ghoul chow to hold out for a long time.
The Bastards proved how dangerous they were to the other gangs in the area by tearing apart a troop of the Night Hunters that tried to dislodge the Bastards – in hand-to-claw combat. Not gonna shed any tears over that incident. I don’t care much for Humanis racists or skinheads like the Night Hunters. Those fuckers can stay ghoul food for all I care.
Well, after a Knight Errant Firewatch team tried to take the Bastards out, and got two teammates mauled to death and several others badly injured for their trouble, Ares Macrotechnology (KE’s corporate parent, y’know) decided to hire “outside help� to deal with these bastards. They put out a call on the local underground hunter message boards asking for help. I jumped at the chance. Like I said, I don’t care much that they slaughtered some Night Hunters. The world can do without scum like that wasting our precious air. I do care about the fact that they slaughtered an entire apartment complex of innocent people to prove who has the bigger dick to other gangs.
The Ares Johnson was happy to see me on the job. A solid 14-year career does wonders for your reputation. By the time the hiring period was over, I had five partners in hunting. The deal was five of us against an estimated 35 ghouls, all armed and all ready to bum-rush us en masse on sight.
Amazingly, it didn’t really start to hit the fan until we hit the third floor…
“SHIT!� I yelled as a half-inch slug tore into the doorframe mere inches from my arm. When gunfights begin and the lead starts flying, your vocabulary tends to get reduced to four letter words.
We’d cleared out the first two floors of the apartment complex with minimal sweat. We were prepared to get bushwhacked by all 35 gang members right off the bat, so we went in with appropriate tactics – lethal force, shoot to kill at anything that moves. This was more than enough to take out the few ghouls that were actually on the first floor, eight by my count. They probably weren’t expecting professional hunters on the job.
The ghouls on the second floor, another 16, had obviously tried to make a better go of things, but their flimsily-prepared defenses weren’t nearly enough to stop us. A few panicked shots from the ghouls had left some of us wounded, though, and we took a break to patch those wounds before continuing on.
The ghouls on the third floor had obviously been preparing while we’d been patching up. I glimpsed overturned tables in the apartment hallway before I had gotten completely up the stairwell – roadblocks. I had already been expecting ghouls to hide behind them, so I wasn’t too shocked when one of them popped up and fired a pistol at me. Still didn’t make it any better when the bullet nearly tore a hole in my arm. The rest of the team ducked in the stairwell landing, having stayed behind me.
“Anybody got a clear shot?� I asked. A tusked grin crossed the face of V.H., one of the other hunters, as he raised a large rifle-like weapon towards the hallway. I smiled and gave him a series of hand signals that indicated I wanted two shots fired at each barricade, and the ork nodded.
Seconds later, four explosions rocked the hallway as four grenades discharged from V.H.’s grenade launcher, obliterating the makeshift barriers.
I popped out of hiding after the shrapnel cleared and emptied half my Ares Alpha’s magazine into the smoke filled hallway, not stopping until I was damn sure I couldn’t see anything moving and couldn’t hear anything speaking. Four dead ghoul bodies greeted me when the smoke cleared, two of them with limbs torn off, doubtlessly from the explosions. Twenty-eight down, 7 to go.
We approached the bend in the third floor’s L-shaped hallway, and we all got frosty as we approached. I hand-signaled the team to a stop as we approached the bend and motioned V.H. forward. He nodded as he took up a position in front of me for pop-out fire.
I gave him the nod seconds later and we both popped out, spotting the ghoul and firing at the same time. A few perfunctory rounds from my smartgun-aided rifle proved pointless, as a launched grenade from V.H. blew the ghoul to bloody bits a second later.
Once my adrenaline receded, I realized that that was the only bogey visible. There were supposed to be at least another six ghouls unaccounted for. The penthouse where the gang leader was holed up was facing us at the other end of the hallway – and yet that was the only one we saw.
Ambush, I immediately thought, and motioned the team back.
“They must be set up in the apartments lining the hallway,� I whispered to the other team members. “They’re gonna try to ambush us.� I pointed at two other team members – Ray, our magical support and Jayna, a razorgirl – and motioned towards V.H., who had already holstered his grenade launcher and was prepping a machine gun he’d brought with him.
“You two, go with him and check every room on the right side of the hall,� I whispered. “Kick the door down and shoot everything that moves. At least one of you watch the other two’s backs.� I pointed to the other two members – Bram, another spell-slinger, and Artemis, the team’s resident crack-shot – and told them to come with me as we did the same. Creeping down the left side of the hallway, Bram moved his huge troll bulk in front of Artemis and I as he assumed the door-kicker position. I nodded as I took second position, ready to back him up, and Artemis stood prepared to cover us.
One…two…THREE! The door splintered under Bram’s kick, and somehow I managed to squeeze by his massive frame as he rushed through the doorframe.
I heard a “fwoosh� sound behind me as I swept the right side of the room, and figured that Bram had bagged a ghoul. The smartgun crosshairs displayed on my sunglasses didn't find a single target to track as I finished my sweep. Creeping forward slowly, I was about to kick open the door to the bathroom when I heard a decidedly different sound coming from behind me – a wretching sound, like someone about to hurl.
Turning back, I hurried back in Bram’s direction, where I’d heard the sound come from, and ran into the bedroom he had swept. Bram was kneeling next to me, a puddle of vomit collecting on the floor beneath him.
I looked up and immediately saw what triggered his reaction. Four human heads, mounted above the bed like hunting trophies - a man, a woman, and a little boy and girl. I figured they must have been the apartment’s occupants before these Infected marauders ransacked the place. I was staring in disbelief at the sight, when Artemis’s call of “Look out!� turned my attention 180 degrees.
I wheeled around and saw two flesh-eaters busting out of the bathroom door I had been about to kick down seconds before, both pointing guns at us. I was too pissed off to do anything but shoot to kill. Six slugs from my rifle tore into the body of the left ghoul while three very well-placed shots from Artemis’s pistol caught the right one between the eyes, dropping him instantly.
I strode over to my target, rage doubtlessly in my eyes but hidden from the rest by the smartlinked sunglasses I wore.
The ghoul, still alive, twisted on the floor in obvious pain, his grayed skin opened and bleeding in half-a-dozen places. I placed my foot on his neck, hard enough that he had to struggle for breath, and pointed the barrel of my Ares Alpha at his forehead.
“Was slaughtering an entire family worth this, you sick son of a bitch?� I asked, cold rage smoldering in my voice. He was trying to croak an answer through his increasingly-crushed windpipe when I decided I didn’t give a shit what he had to say and emptied the remaining 15 rounds into his head, leaving very little of it left.
Striding back over to Bram and slamming a fresh clip into my Alpha, I put my hand on his back as he finished emptying his guts. This was his first hunt – I couldn’t blame him for losing his stomach contents.
“You know the rules – hold the vomit until after the mission,� I told him, trying to strike that delicate balance between encouragement and discipline as I helped his big-ass self up. It apparently worked, because he nodded at me and shook his head, trying to mentally steady himself for the fight ahead.
We met up with V.H.’s team in the hallway, and he held up two fingers as he saw me. Two ghouls down on his end, three on ours. One was left, and I had a good idea where he was.
“He’s probably in the penthouse at the end of the hallway,� I told the team. “I’m going after him; the five of you, watch the doors and behind us for ambushes in case I’m wrong.� All five of them nodded.
I strode ahead of the rest of the group, slinging my assault rifle over my shoulder. Whenever you’re dealing with a gang, it helps to know a little bit about the leader, given that gangs tend to be one part criminal organization and one part personality cult – at least according to a few sources I’ve read. Fortunately, Knight Errant had a file on the head of Mordiggian’s Bastards.
Thirty years old, calls himself “Hannibal�, and loves to tear his opponents apart up close. “It’s more visceral� was the excuse he used, I believe. Fortunately, I came prepared.
Arriving at the door to the penthouse, I kicked the door down with all my might, sending splinters flying in several directions.
The place was rather luxurious for an apartment complex like this – big room, lots of amenities, nice view of the city street below.
Somehow though, I doubt the dead bodies piled up in the corner were part of the package, nor was the gray-skinned figure sitting in the swivel chair facing the door, a TV blaring the latest Urban Brawl game on the far wall behind him
The leading ghoul looked surprised to see the six of us busting through the door, but quickly reverted to a cocky demeanor as he stood up to his full seven-foot height.
“Guess I should have hired better help when I started this little band of warriors,� Hannibal said, almost mockingly.
I ignored his attempt to rattle me, my earlier rage having subsided into a more calm, cold, calculating state.
“This ends tonight, Infected filth,� I said, trying to face him down – though that’s not so easy to do to someone almost a foot taller than my six-foot-two height. Hannibal threw his head back and laughed.
“You think that because you hacked your way through my lackeys, you can stop me?� Hannibal said. “Do you even know what I am?!�
“Somebody very deep in denial with a hell of a superiority complex, if you think you can stop us where 34 of your goons failed,� I shot back.
I guess I was off my game that night, not paying full attention to the situation, because what happened next caught me completely off guard. His fingers were around my throat before I could react, and he lifted me off the ground with one arm. I struggled against his grip, but he was too damn strong.
“Do you think I led this motley bunch by being an ordinary ghoul?� he growled, throwing me against the wall on the opposite side of the room. I landed back-first on a table, the sharp corner sending a hellacious pain into my back as I fell to the floor.
Hannibal obviously wasn’t finished with his object lesson though, judging by how he was storming towards me, every footfall causing the floor to shake. I tried to get up, but only got halfway up before he landed a massive punch on me, sending me through the thin apartment wall into the penthouse’s master bedroom.
Once I realized that Hannibal wasn’t storming after me a third time, I assessed my situation. The punch had hit me square in the armor jacket I was wearing, leaving a nice imprint in the stomach region. It took me a second in my dazed state to realize that punches shouldn’t be able to do that. If I hadn’t been wearing the armor, I could have been cut open, or even sustained internal injuries.
It suddenly all made sense to me.
“An adept,� I said as I stood up. “A ghoul adept.�
Hannibal flashed his evil grin again.
“Alright you murderous son of a bitch,� I said as I strode forward into the main room, shaking off the stars still circling my head. “You’re mine. You and me, mano-a-mutant.�
Hannibal grunted another laugh, but didn’t raise any objections as he dropped into a combat stance, cracking his knuckles. I followed suit, drawing the katana sheathed across my back, also holding my hand, palm-out, towards the other five – a signal to stay back and let me handle this. I felt the adrenaline flowing through me as I prepared for the duel. I have to admit, I always enjoy facing the Infected like this. It was different from just shooting guns, much more intense.
Hannibal made the first move, taking a swipe at me with his claws. I dodged backwards, taking a slash at his outstretched arm that tagged him, a line of red appearing on his forearm.
My turn.
I launched myself into a quick sideways slash, aiming to decapitate the monster and finish the fight.
But this guy was just full of surprises, it seemed.
As my blade reached the ghoul’s shoulder area, it was met with resistance and a simultaneous “CLANG� sound. A second later, my eyes focused on my blade, and I saw it – a spur, jutting out of his left forearm.
Cyberware. Fuckin’ figures. I kept the resistance on my blade up, hoping he’d make a move I could exploit to end the fight.
I wasn’t too surprised when I heard the “snickt� sound of another spur extending from his other arm, and I was ready for the forward thrust that came soon after it. I lifted my sword and spun myself around and to his left, staying far back enough to avoid the arc of his left arm spur, which sure enough completed its arc with no katana to press against.
I then switched my blade to my right hand and brought the blade down. I felt the ghoul’s flesh, muscle and bone attempt to resist and finally give way under the sharpened katana’s assault, and heard the howl of pain coming from my monstrous opponent. Wasting no time, I switched back to a two-handed grip and brought my blade up through his still-outstretched right arm, slicing it off at the elbow.
The ghoul, the guy who was playing Mister Invincible just a second ago, knelt to the ground whimpering in pain, the bloody stumps of his arms dripping Krieger HMHVV-infected blood onto the wooden floor of the penthouse.
Time to finish this. I put my katana’s blade up to the front of his throat, using the flat to lift his head up to meet my eyes. There was no trace of the cocky arrogance that I saw just a moment before. There was only fear and dread.
“Please,� he croaked. “I surrender. I’ll go with Knight Errant peacefully.�
Rage boiled in my veins as this pathetic subhuman begged for his life, the severed and mounted heads of that family – including two children – that had been killed by the hands of his pet monsters flashing through my mind. I have no room for mercy for murderous bastards like this.
“Go to hell,� I said in reply, and with a quick flick of my wrist to the right both Mordiggian’s Bastards and their leader were headless.
* * *
Life took a turn for the calmer for a while after that job, a rarity in my line of work. The job’s payoff came just in time for Christmas a couple weeks later, so I made good use of the money. It was enough to give me a little time off from work too, so I didn’t mind that I didn’t receive any calls.
I was just starting to get bored with my off-time, watching the same damn rerun of “Behind the Brawl� for the ten thousandth time, when my wall phone started to ring with the custom ring tone I set up for my fixer.
Muting the trid set, I walked over to the wall phone and tapped the “receive� button. Sure enough, the face of my fixer came up onto the screen – sharp business suit, sunglasses and same stiff-as-a-board expression.
“Mr. Anderson,� I said, calling him by the alias he always went by. I never bothered to ask his real name. Even when I was a newbie runner, I knew that was one question you didn’t ask unless they volunteered.
“Mister Helios,� Anderson said with his usual business-like tone. “Apologies for interrupting your little vacation, but I have an interested party that wishes to talk to you about a job.�
Right to the point, like always. I tapped a button on the com unit and opened up the calendar function. “Who’s the employer?� I asked.
“Lone Star,� Anderson replied.
That made me pause for a second. I’d never taken a job from the big cop corp before. Yeah, I’d worked for Knight Errant on that fumigation job and a couple times before, but something about Lone Star was different. Where Knight Errant often felt more like a mercenary squad, Lone Star truly felt like law and order, at least that was the image conjured by them.
Still, work is work.
“Time and place?� I asked.
“Tomorrow morning, 0900 at Tam’s,� Anderson said. “And they say to leave your weapons at home.�
Figures. People in Downtown Seattle tend to get twitchy if they see a firearm, especially so close to the Space Needle. Good thing I don’t need weapons to be deadly.
“Got it,� I said. “I’ll be there.�
The next morning, I found myself in the shadow of Seattle’s famous Space Needle, at the location Anderson mentioned. As meeting spots go, it wasn’t a bad choice – public place, a dinky, ho-hum restaurant without much setting it apart from the rest. All in all, not a bad spot to conduct a little clandestine business.
The time read 0900 by the time I got there. I usually try to show up early, but given that I had no idea what these officers looked like, I decided it would be better to arrive on time, when they were certain to be there. Anderson had told me which table they’d be at, a booth by the window, so I headed over to that table and wasn’t at all surprised to find two guys in blue uniforms sitting at the table. One young guy, probably the rookie in the pairing, and an older guy with graying hair at the temples.
“Officers?� I asked, strolling up behind them. The two turned to face me as I slid myself into the booth seat across from them.
“I take it you’re the hunter Mr. Anderson said he would contact?� the veteran cop asked.
I nodded, my arms crossed.
“Good,� the vet said. “Then maybe we have a chance of solving this after all.�
The waitress came up and took our orders about the point, so we waited to continue talking shop until she was well out of earshot.
“My name’s Lt. Carstairs, and this is my partner, Officer Maxwell,� the vet said. “And we need your help.� Carstairs pulled out a file folder from his seat and slid it in front of me.
“This is the case we’ve been working on for the past several months,� Carstairs said. “I think you’ll see where you fit into all this soon enough.�
I opened the file folder. The title page read “File 2070-767769� – suitably dry, formal stuff one would expect from an official report. The title below it caught my eye though, “The Regret Killings.�
What is this, a bad mystery novel? I thought to myself, giving the cops a raised eyebrow.
“Just read the file,� the rookie said, annoyed.
I steeled myself, preparing to look upon some horrific crime scene photo with lots of mutilated bodies, as I turned the page.
Instead, I was greeted with a relatively tame sight for a murder file. The body of a woman, lying on a carpeted floor, arms crossed across her chest. There were red smears across parts of her face, far slighter than I would have imagined for a murder. Into her forehead, a cross was faintly etched, not gouged into her forehead so that it was bleeding, but more like a chalky pattern, like the kind you get when you scratch just a layer of skin or two deep. A wooden stake was also driven through the body’s chest, to keep the victim from rising as a vampire no doubt, though I couldn’t imagine why any vampire would do that. What vampire wouldn’t want an army or cult of bloodsuckers following their every word?
“This was the first body found, about six months ago,� Carstairs said. “Found it when our dispatch center got an anonymous call reporting it. Never did find out the caller.�
I turned the page and found a close up picture of several wounds, wounds I’d become all too familiar with in the last 14 years.
“Fang marks,� I whispered.
Carstairs nodded.
“So what’s with the posing of the body and the smudged blood?� I asked as I flipped through the crime scene photos. “The smudges make it seem like he tried to clean her up, but the posing…?�
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves here,� Carstairs interrupted. “We’ve found four more bodies like this in the past six months, all posed the same way, all cleaned up.�
I closed the file and set it down.
“Well, I’m sure you have somebody working on this case,� I said. “Why do you need me all of a sudden? Why be so clandestine?�
Carstairs looked down at his coffee for a second.
“Because we have to admit that we don’t know what we’re up against here,� Carstairs said. “There aren’t too many specialists in hunting down the HMHVV-Infected in Lone Star, period, and certainly not on the Seattle force.� Carstairs took a deep breath and sighed outwardly as he continued.
“Plus,� he said, “we’re keeping our options open, in case an arrest is… impractical.�
I nodded, understanding the subtext here. If it became necessary to kill this sucker they didn’t want the blood on one of their officers’ hands, but the hands of a guy who does it for a living would suit them just fine.
“What do you want me to do?� I asked
“We’ve had a forensic psychologist working on this case for the past couple of months now,� Carstairs said. “We want you to assist him with your knowledge of the Infected, try to find a pattern to the vampire’s crimes, and hopefully stop him before he kills again.�
I nodded. An advisor’s position, it sounded like. Sounded like it could be kind of boring, but it was work. Infected-hunting didn’t always take the form of fumigation jobs, after all.
“What’s the pay?� I asked.
Carstairs turned his head and nodded to Maxwell. A second later, I felt something prod me in the leg. I looked down and saw a certified credstick in Maxwell’s hand, which was under the table. I discretely took it.
“That contains 15,000 nuyen – half the pay we’re willing to offer for this job,� Carstairs said. “The other half to be available upon completion.�
Thirty-thousand nuyen for a low-action job. The price seemed right.
“When do we start?� I asked.
A few hours later, at dusk, duffel bag in hand, I was standing at the address Lt. Carstairs had given me, looking at my base of operations – a van. A shitty van. Parked in the Barrens.
I figured this either had to be a joke or the Star’s budget was even more in the shitter than people thought. Oh well. I wasn’t being paid to ask questions. If I had to stay in here a few days, those were the breaks.
Walking up to the rear double doors, I gave it a quick knock.
“Hired help,� I said, using the code word Carstairs had given me. A second later, one of the doors opened a crack.
“Ah yes, we’re expecting you,� an accented voice said from within. “Please, come on in.�
I pulled the latch on the door and opened it, mentally prepared to dodge a deluge of bugs that were doubtless to come swarming out. Instead, my jaw dropped as I took stock of what was inside the van.
The thing was a techno-fetishist’s wet dream. A bank of computers with several screens lining both sides, along with even more cool stuff I couldn’t even begin to describe. I was so surprised I almost forgot to close the door behind me as I crawled in.
“Holy mother of crap,� I said as I looked around. “You pull out all this stuff to catch every serial killer?�
“Nah, just the ones that risk making the Star brass look bad,� a gruff voice said from the front of the van.
A chuckle sounded from the guy that had let me in, an Asian-looking elf that was facing the main computer bank.
“I see you’ve already heard from our resident rebel, Officer Conway,� he said, spinning in his chair to face me. “I’m Lt. Sato, profiler with the Forensics Division.�
“Profiler?� I asked. “You mean you get inside the criminal’s head, try to figure out where they’ll end up next?�
Sato nodded. “More or less.�
I suddenly saw why they wanted my expertise in Infected psychology. Paired with a forensics wiz like this guy, I couldn’t think of a better way to track down a serial killer.
“So what’s all this stuff?� I asked. “I assume this isn’t all here for show?�
“What we’ve got here is a mobile database,� Sato said. “A wireless, secure hookup to the Lone Star mainframe so we can access whatever info we need, top-flight communications gear, plus all the advantages of mobility in case we have to take off ASAP.�
“Awesome,� I said, taking a seat.
Sato took a glance at the duffel bag I’d brought in.
“So what’s…� he started.
“You probably don’t want to know,� I said. “I’ll just say it’s nothing hi-explosive and leave it at that – and that it may come in handy if we can’t wait for backup.�
Sato nodded.
“Alright, I guess the best place to start is from the beginning,� I said. “What do we know so far?�
Sato spun around and punched a few keys, bringing up several crime scene photos. Several victims, all with their arms crossed, all with smudges where the killer had cleaned up after himself, all with the same cross lightly scratched into their forehead.
“Well, either this guy’s got a thing for posing people like Egyptian mummies, or…� I said.
Sato shook his head.
“I’ve seen bodies like that before,� Sato said. “That pose typically means things like remorse or regret, feeling bad that he’s killed.�
“HA!� I laughed out loud. Vampires, killing machines by nature, feeling regret for their victims? Sato tilted his head to one side and regarded me with a weird look.
“C’mon, since when do suckheads feel bad about their victims?� I asked. “Only time I ever met a bloodsucker that felt regret was when I had my blade poised at his neck.�
“Look, all I can tell you is what I know from my years of experience as a profiler, and this just screams ‘I’m sorry’ from where I’m sitting,� Sato said. �look at the bodies – all with wooden stakes driven through their chests. He obviously meant to stop another vampire from rising.�
“Probably looking to eliminate feeding competition,� I said.
“Or maybe a symptom of regret,� Sato said. “Also, look at the smudges where he tried to clean up the blood.�
“Trying to cover his undead ass,� I said.
Sato shook his head. “No, if all he wanted to get rid of the evidence, he could have burned the bodies.�
I had to concede that point.
“Look, I can see you’re having trouble grasping the idea of a vampire with any emotions but murderous rage, but just try to bear with me for a second,� Sato said. “I’m convinced that he’s suffering regret for what he’s done based on what he does with the bodies, but that leaves the question – why?�
Good question. If this guy was getting all teary-eyed about his prey, why was he doing it at all?
“You know, most HMHVV-Infected start getting ravenous as they lose their life force, to the point where as it ebbs away completely they become complete mad dogs,� I offered. “If this guy is…�
I struggled to get it out, but it eventually came. “…remorseful, then maybe he’s trying to hold off of feeding until the point where he loses it completely.�
“I hadn’t known about that, but that would be a good explanation,� Sato said, nodding.
“So do we have any idea who this guy is?� I asked.
Sato shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t find any connection between the victims,� he said. “No two are from the same family, and we haven’t been able to find any connection between any of the victims.�
I sighed and sank back in my chair. This was gonna be tough. No leads, no connections between the victims except how they were posed…
“I suppose it’s too much to ask that the guy left his own blood at the scene?� I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Seems to be,� Sato said.
No DNA evidence either. Great.
Our thoughts were interrupted by a call from the front seat.
“Hey guys,� Conway’s voice shouted from the front. “Got something over the radio you guys might be interested in.�
Tell me it’s not…“Another victim?� Sato asked, finishing my thought.
“In a sense,� Conway said. “Some off-duty Lone Star cops broke up a fight between a gang and an innocent bystander somewhere in the Downtown area.�
That explained why they gave a shit about a gang dust-up. Downtown was one of those areas lucky enough that the Star gave a shit about keeping things non-violent.
“So what’s the big deal?� I asked.
“Well, there’s two interesting things about it,� Conway said. “One, that gang is a small gang of vampires.�
The surprise of that announcement made me stand up quickly, banging my head against the van roof and drawing a curse. I crumpled back into my chair, holding my head, which was now throbbing with pain.
“And interesting point number two?� I asked through gritted teeth.
“The gangers are claiming that innocent bystander was a vampire too, and that he attacked them. And they claim he’s ‘the vampire serial killer we’re after.’�
This was getting interesting all of a sudden. Assuming these suckheads weren’t bullshitting, how the hell did they know about this investigation?
“What have we got to lose?� I said. “Where are they?�
“They’re being held at the scene,� Conway said.
“Take us to a block from there, then let us off,� Sato said. “We don’t want to draw attention to our mobile base here.�
Conway nodded and started up the engine, sending Sato back into his chair as the van started rolling.
“Mister Helios, I think that things might go smoother if I do the interrogating here,� Sato said.
“Why?� I asked, fairly offended.
“You have a reputation among these… circles, as I’m sure you know,� he said. “If they think you’re just going to kill them anyways, they may not give anything up. If you’re standing behind me though, I might be able to use the intimidation factor to my advantage.�
He had a point. I wasn’t going to be able to kill these vamps without depriving us of information on the job at hand. Besides, I could always make a mental note of them later and take care of them in the future if they caused someone else trouble.
“Fair enough,� I said. “But I’m taking my stuff with me.�
Grabbing my duffel bag and opening it, I started hauling out my usual toys – shotgun, pistol, body armor, sword.
“Are you sure you need all that?� Sato asked incredulously.
“You’re the one who wanted the intimidation factor,� I said. “What could be more intimidating than someone who looks like they can waste their entire gang in seconds flat?�
I checked the clip in my Manhunter. Green paint on the underside, and oak-jacketed rounds in the clip to match. I’d developed a color-coding system for my specialty ammo a while back – green for oak-jacketed, blue for silver, red for iron – but it always paid to check.
Minutes later, the van pulled up to the scene of the crime. As soon as it stopped, Sato opened the back doors, with me following close behind him, Remington in hand, Manhunter on my hip and katana on my back.
Sato and I walked up to a group of cops several yards away, clustered near two police cars – the cops who’d handled the whole mess, I assumed.
Sato whispered something to one of the cops, who nodded and pointed to someone in another crowd of people – a group of street punks handcuffed and sitting on a bench on the sidewalk, being carefully watched by two more cops. Sato started over towards that bench, and once again, I followed.
“Alright young man,� he said, talking to the punk the cop pointed at, “tell us what happened here.�
“Yeah right, like I’m gonna tell you shit for free,� the punk sneered. “What are you gonna give me?�
Sato turned his head to give me an annoyed look before going back to the gangers.
“Know who I’ve got standing behind me?� Sato asked.
“Give me a reason I should care, ya Jap pixie,� the vampire punk snarled.
“That’s a hunter,� Sato said. “A vampire hunter, to be more precise. Now I don’t know much about this guy’s history besides what I’ve heard, but if half the stuff I’ve heard is true, he’s got more vampire kills in 15 years than most Desert War MVS candidates have career kills. And I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t hesitate to add a few to his list.�
Sato turned his head to me and nodded.
“Time to play hardball,� he whispered, “the only way they know how.�
I nodded my understanding. A second later, I brought my shotgun up to one of the other punks, ka-chucked the action, and pulled the trigger, the thunderclap of the gunshot echoing so loudly I thought all of Downtown Seattle heard it.
The ganger punk I aimed for let out a decidedly un-manly “eep!� of fright as he regarded the hole in the bench where the oak-jacketed slug had torn through the bench. If he was still living, I’m certain he would have shit himself.
“By the way,� I said, lowering my shotgun, “those are oak-jacketed rounds. So much as think about going into mist form, and I won’t miss with my next shot.�
“Fortunately, this hunter here is on my leash, so he doesn’t haul off and kill you all right now,� Sato growled. “But give me a good goddamn excuse, and I’ll make sure all of you punks are being used for cat litter. You got me?�
That object threat I’d just delivered, plus Sato’s speech, grabbed the punks’ attention immediately.
“Now,� Sato said, “what happened here?�
“Ok, ok,� the vampire leader said. “We’ve been hearing rumors about some newly-turned vampire guy going nuts, killing people, and we think he’d make a good choice for the gang, y’know?�
Figures. Bloodthirsty bastards.
“Only problem is, this guy’s a complete fucking shadow – no trace of him, hard as hell to find,� he said. “Well, one day one of our posse here looking for a meal lucks out on seeing him drain someone dry – some cute redhead or something. Damn, if she was as hot as he described, she must’ve tasted…�
I ka-chucked the action on my shotgun again and gave the punk a glare to indicate that he should move on or risk getting his fucking head blown off.
“Right, right,� the punk leader said hurriedly. “Anyways, our gang member says that after he’s done, this guy starts acting like a huge pussy – crying about how he’s killed again, asking God to forgive him, and all that pansy shit. Then he said that the wuss started posing her like a mummy or something.�
“Doesn’t sound like he’d fit in with your lot,� Sato said.
“Not at first, but this meant a challenge for us,� the leader said. “Y’know, breaking a guy in, turning him into a weapon.
“Well, we finally tracked this guy down and told him we wanted him to join us. Give him a group of people just like him to hang around, y’know? Well this guy just freaking LOST IT. Started screaming at us about how he was nothing like us, and how the world would be better off without us, and then he starts biting and swinging at us, draining some energy out of some of us even. We all piled on him, and that’s when the cops came along. The guy went to mist form and just drifted away.�
“So why didn’t you follow?� Sato asked.
“We were going to,� the leader snarled, “but then the pigs heard we were vampires and blasted us all with tasers, keeping the shockers on so we were too fucking distracted with the pain to go to mist form. Then they told us someone from the Dips was there with wooden stakes just in case we got any ideas.�
Good idea, getting the Department of Paranormal Investigation on this. Bastards can’t go into mist form if they’re constantly getting stabbed with pointy sticks.
“So how did you know we were after a vampire serial killer anyways?� Sato asked.
“Y’know, us vampires can be hackers too, y’know,� the leader said. “Our hacker said your system was pretty pathetic.�
They hacked the files. At least that was explained.
“Alright,� Sato said. “We’ve got our sketch artist here, and you’re gonna describe what this guy looks like. Helios, stay here while he does his work.�
I nodded, and seconds later the sketch artist was taking information.
About a half hour later, the vampire punks were cut loose, with yet another warning from Sato and me, and the sketch artist had his artist’s interpretation of who we were after.
He definitely didn’t look the serial killer type. Aging guy, probably in his 40s, thinning hair… the kind of look you can only get through a lifetime of boring white-collar work. Made me wonder if the guy who made him a vampire turned him on purpose or if he was an accident.
“So what do we do with this now?� I asked. “We’ve got a good idea what he looks like, but we’ve still got no name.�
Sato seemed to consider that for a second.
“Let me get on the horn to HQ,� Sato said. “Maybe it’s time for this to go public after all.�
Sato clambered back into the van while I leaned against the van’s exterior, pondering where that decision could take this case. If this went public, maintaining my anonymity would be an even greater concern. Bad for Star PR to have me blowing away a vampire on local trid, especially a shadowrunner. A few minutes later, Sato stepped out of the van.
“The chief’s calling a press conference at 9 a.m. tomorrow to announce who we’re after,� Sato said. “He agreed that we’ve run out of ideas for finding this guy unless we’ve got some help from the public.� Sato cleared his throat before continuing on.
“He also told me that you’re to be kept on ‘an extra-short leash,’ Sato continued. “With the public watching us, we have to do things by the book - that means proper arrest procedure, no lethal force unless absolutely necessary, the works.�
I cursed silently. I hated complications that cropped up like this, especially complications that only existed to save somebody’s PR image.
“I understand that you’re not quite acquainted with such things, so I’ve been asked to give you a crash course,� Sato said.
A lecture. Great.
Sato mercifully concluded his lecture by suggesting that we all get whatever sleep we could in the van’s confines before the next day. Fortunately the back was (just) spacious enough for a couple of cots, while Conway seemed content to sleep across the front seats. We also managed to find a place where the van wouldn’t get robbed blind in the middle of the night.
The next day, we all watched the chief’s press conference. He announced the wave of serial killings over the past few months, confirming some details for the press, and announcing a 5,000 nuyen reward for information leading to his arrest and conviction.
By noon that day, there were at least 300 calls logged into the information hotline, claiming to have seen the vampire killer. Of course, most of them were complete morons looking for a quick buck with absolutely no reliable information. Such were the risks of those things, but we were still hoping someone would call in with real information.
Right about 2 p.m. though, Sato got a call that sent our investigation forward again. A group of people were coming to the Star’s station house.
They were the vampire’s family.
An hour later, Sato was sitting down in one of the Star’s interview rooms, across from a group of new faces. They were a pretty average middle-class family – a big bearded guy who looked to be in his early 30s or so, a brunette late-30s woman, and an elderly couple that I had to guess were the vampire’s parents. Sato sat them down in some chairs in the room and sat across a table from them. I sat in the next room behind some one-way glass listening to the whole exchange.
Sato placed a digital recorder on the table.
“For the record, we’ll need you to state your names,� Sato said, trying to be as gentle as possible with the family.
“My name’s David Jenkins,� the old man said, �and this is my wife, Ingrid. We’re Martin’s parents.�
“And Martin is…� Sato prompted.
The old man sighed, as if he didn’t want to say what he was about to.
“He’s the vampire that you guys are after,� David said. “These are Martin’s siblings, Jonathan and Carla.�
“Ok,� Sato said. “Do you have any idea where Martin is?�
All four of them shook their heads.
“We haven’t seen him in months,� Carla said, tears starting to fall from her eyes. “It’s been so hard, we used to see him every week, and now…�
Ingrid put her hand on Carla’s shoulder, trying to steady her daughter.
“About a year ago,� Ingrid said. “We got a phone call from our son on his usual visit day. It was already weird, he hadn’t shown up when he usually did, and he couldn’t have gotten lost - he grew up in the house we live in. But it was about to get worse.
“He said that he couldn’t see us anymore, that it would be better for everyone’s safety if he just didn’t see us again.�
“Did he say why?� Sato asked.
“All he said was that he was scared for our safety if he got close to us,� Jonathan said. “He said that his soul was in danger already, and that he couldn’t risk putting our souls in danger too. He was always a very devout Catholic like that, always looking out for us well-being like that, making sure we did the right thing.�
“At the time all of us figured that he’d gotten into some trouble, maybe made friends with some bad people that were out to get him,� Carla said, shaking her head. “But this… we couldn’t have imagined this.�
I couldn’t imagine what they must be going through. Finding out that their loved one had turned into a monster, that there was nothing to change him back, that the virus had turned a gentle man into a serial killer…I was amazed that the elderly parents hadn’t died from shock when they heard the news.
“Do you have any idea where he could be?� Sato said. “Any friends he could have gone to for help, anybody that he would trust?�
David took a deep breath.
“I think he already did,� David said. “That list of victims we saw on the news…they were all friends of Martin’s.�
So that was the connection between the victims that we were looking for.
“Something must have come over him,� Carla said. “He wouldn’t murder his friends in cold blood. Something must have made him do that, something that the virus did to his mind.�
They were closer to the truth than they realized.
“Does he have any other friends that you know of besides those?� Sato asked.
The family all shook their heads. Sato breathed a shallow sigh.
“Ok,� Sato said, switching the recorder off. “Thank you very much for coming in. And I’m very sorry for what’s happened.
A few hours later, as dusk approached, I was back in the van, sitting down and thinking about the twists this case had taken. The deeper I got into this case, the more I found myself feeling sorry for everyone involved. Not just for the family, but for the vampire himself. From what everyone had said about him, from all the evidence in this case, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the shitty hand that fate had dealt this guy.
I’d never felt this before about a target. In all my hunting career, I’d never met a vampire who felt the slightest trace of remorse about his actions. Now here was a guy who started out as just another target, and it had led me to… well, all this. Just when I thought I had life figured out…
The van door opened, interrupting my thoughts as Sato climbed into the back with a few bags of Nukit Burger food.
“Dinner is here,� Sato said, handing me the bag with my order in it.
I took the bag and started digging out my food, thinking over the case in my mind as I munched on the fries first. We’d exhausted the leads we had, and we still had no idea where this guy was going to go next. His friends were dead, his family didn’t know where he was… the only thing I could think of to do would be to wait until another victim popped up, but I didn’t want to actually do that. Too many people had already died in this whole matter; I didn’t want anyone else to die at this point except the vampire – he was still a mad dog that needed to be put down for the sake of everyone’s safety.
“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m tapped out of ideas,� I told Sato.
Sato nodded, obviously wishing he had better news on his front.
“I’ve been going over that interview recording so much I bought fresh batteries just in case the recorder ran out, and I’m still not finding any new leads,� Sato said.
I nodded, trying not to growl in frustration. This was maddening. Who else would the guy go to for comfort or help? Not his family, his friends were dead…
Wait a minute, what did that one family member say about him? He was a devout Catholic?
I’ve never been a religious man myself, but I’ve worked with a number of hunters in the past who were – and I knew about several aspects of the religion, including Sunday mass, In Imago Dei… and confession. In that second, I knew where he was going.
“Sato, can you punch up a map of Seattle?� I asked
Sato, looking momentarily surprised, went over to the computer and punched a few keys, bringing up a map of Seattle.
“Do we know where the Jenkins parents live?� I asked.
Sato called up the Seattle telecom directory, and a few key punches later, the screen had zeroed in on a zoom-in of their Lower Queen Anne Hill house.
“Where’s the closest Catholic church to their house?� I asked.
A few key punches later, the map zoomed out and highlighted two locations – one being the Jenkins home, the other a place identified as St. Paul’s Church, barely three blocks away in Downtown Seattle.
“That’s where he’s going,� I told Sato. “Conway, how far are we from St. Paul’s in Downtown?�
“Probably about 15 minutes,� Conway said from the front seat.
“Gun it over there, but stop about a block away,� Sato said. “I’ll arrange for backup to meet us there.�
Fifteen minutes later we were at the location, but no Lone Star vehicles were there to meet us.
Figures, I thought cynically.
Probably some rich guy getting mugged somewhere that’s sucking up their resources.“Our backup’s been delayed,� Sato said, receiving a report from a headset. “There’s a gang dust-up on Redmond that’s leaking over into Renton, and our assigned backup was dispatched there to make sure it stays contained.�
“Dammit,� I cursed. If we waited any longer, we were going to lose our quarry.
“Fuck this,� I said, strapping my Manhunter and holster on. “Take the van over to the rear entrance of the church and I’ll get off there.�
“We can’t do that,� Sato protested. “We have to wait for backup first.�
“If we wait any longer, we’re going to lose this guy, and there’s no telling where he might go after this,� I said, checking to make sure oak-jacketed rounds were loaded into my pistol.
Conway, for his part, had already started driving towards the church, and by the time I’d strapped my body armor and sword on, we were already there.
“At least let us assist you,� Sato said.
I shook my head.
“I’ve worked alone on enough of these cases; I know what I’m doing,� I said, unlatching the back van doors and taking an earplug radio from the computer console. “Stay here and wait for backup, then signal me when they’re ready to come in.�
I crept up to the rear entrance, actually more of a side door into the church, and saw that the lights were still on inside despite the late hour. It was well after evening mass.
I checked the door. It was unlocked.
Slowly opening the door, I crept in and was greeted by the opulent cathedral within. The place was easily big enough to seat a few hundred people. Nobody was behind the altar, however. Nobody anywhere, in fact.
Slowly withdrawing my gun from its holster, I crept towards the confessional booth towards the rear of the church. If he was going to be here for confession like I thought, he’d be in one of the two booths. Carefully stepping towards one of the booths, I pointed my Manhunter at the door I was about to open – the confessor’s side.
I reached my hand forward, slowly, and yanked the door open…
Nothing. Nobody was inside, no signs of recent activity. And from the looks of the open confessional screen, there was nobody on the other side either. Walking over to the other confessional booth, I went over to the confessor’s side and yanked the door open, and was once again greeted with an empty seat.
This time, though, I was also greeted with an awful smell coming from the priest’s side. I pulled the priest’s door open and managed to keep my still-digesting dinner down in spite of the sight that greeted me. A man in priestly garb and a Roman collar was sitting in the chair. Eyes closed, arms crossed, wooden stake through the chest.
Sure enough, a check of his neck turned up fang marks. Martin Jenkins’ latest victim.
My mind was already drifting to where else Martin could be, figuring he must have left already, when a sound caught my ultra-sensitive ears – a sobbing sound coming from the front of the church. Turning around, I caught sight of someone sitting in one of the front pews.
I crept towards him, my adept abilities keeping me from making a sound as I walked up to him. I adjusted my eyes to thermographic mode, my adept powers once again kicking in. The guy was registering as cold.
Vampire.
I raised my gun as I walked closer, holding it at my hip, the laser sight painting a red dot on the man’s head.
“Martin Jenkins?� I asked, barely ten paces behind him.
To my surprise, the man didn’t jump out of his seat. He didn’t move much at all, in fact. He simply turned his head and nodded in response to my question. His face, which matched the earlier sketch to the smallest detail, told me all the rest of what I needed to know.
“You’ve been sent to kill me?� the vampire asked, the sadness still in his voice.
“There’s certain people who’d rather I take you in walking under your own power,� I responded. “But if I have to, yes.�
“You’d be smart to just kill me,� he said. “I’m a danger to society. I’m a monster that shouldn’t exist.�
If any other vampire had said that, they wouldn’t have gotten an argument from me. But this guy was different, as I’d found out over the past day or two.
“I’m not sure I believe that,� I said. “From what I’ve seen, you’re more like a dog who’s been stricken with rabies and gone mad, driven to kill by something beyond your control.�
“Then my fate will be the same,� he said. “I’ll need to be put down.�
“If it comes to that,� I said, nodding.
Jenkins stood up and turned around, and I thrust my gun out in front of me, but he didn’t move any further from where he stood.
“Do it,� he said. “Put me out of my misery.�
I was genuinely surprised to hear that. Even considering how much pain I could see he was in, I never thought I’d hear a vampire begging for death.
“Come on!� he shouted in anguish. “Do it before I kill again! God knows I tried to do the deed myself, but… if you die with a mortal sin on your head, you burn in Hell.�
He collapsed into the pew, sobbing anew.
“I’m such a selfish coward!� he said. “I tried to remove myself from this world so that no one would have to suffer – burning my apartment down, facing the sunlight, even a gun. But each time, I became so afraid of my own damnation that I stopped myself.�
“So you went to your friends for comfort,� I said, pointing my pistol towards the floor.
Martin nodded.
“And for a time, it was alright,� he said. “It took a while for many of them to adjust, but they all wanted so desperately to help me. But eventually…the virus, and the thirst, took me over again, and I’d get so hungry…my damned survival instincts kicked in, and…another of my friends would be dead! And every time that happened, I’d want to kill myself all over again, and the cycle would begin anew!�
I walked slowly towards Martin, sitting down in the pew behind him.
“How did it happen?� I asked. “How did you get turned?�
“It was a woman,� Martin said. “I met her while I was out drinking one night. I’ve never been very lucky in love – for God’s sake, I’m middle-aged and still single – so when she expressed interest in me, I fell for her completely. Later that night, when we were alone, she drained me and turned me into… this.�
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fist-sized object I recognized as a grenade.
“I planned to kill myself with this tonight, after confessing my sins to poor Father Jacob,� he said, pointing to the confessional. “But the thirst took over again, and I drained him before I could get a single word out.�
He handed the grenade to me. I checked to make sure the pin was still in before pocketing it.
“There’s no way I could have gone through with it,� he said. “I’m such a damn coward there’s no way I could have done it.�
This was getting neither of us anywhere.
“I’ve been asked to take you in,� I said. “If you come with me, you can have a chance to see your family again, maybe…�
“No, no,� he said. “If I’m allowed to live at all, I’ll just kill again. At best, I’ll live in inhumane conditions, with special measures keeping me captive, in this hellish damned state, for all eternity – or until the last of my stolen life force drains out of me and I die like a caged animal, clawing at the walls in hunger and rage. I’d choose any way to die other than that.�
For the first time since becoming a hunter, I was dreading doing what I had to do. The fact that this guy wanted to die didn’t make me feel any better about it.
“I can give you that much,� I said, ejecting the clip out of my gun. “See these? Oak-jacketed rounds, designed for vampire hunting. A quick, guaranteed end.�
Martin thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
“Before you do that,� he said, digging through his pockets, “take this.�
He pulled out his wallet and handed it to me.
“In there is a note to my family, and some pictures of happier times, with all of us together,� he said. “Please, give those to them. I don’t want their last memory of me to be an item on the evening news.�
I nodded, and put the wallet into an inside pocket of my armor jacket. I then stood up, re-loading the clip into my Manhunter and pulling the slide back.
“Before you do that,� Martin said. “can you do one more thing for me?�
I nodded.
“Be my confessor,� he said. “I can’t die with all this blood on my soul, not if I hope to end up in paradise.�
“Doesn’t a priest have to do this?� I asked.
“We don’t have one handy,� he replied. “This is an emergency. I don’t know all of how God works, but I find it hard to believe he’d refuse someone absolution because of red tape.�
I thought about this for a second. I wasn’t Catholic, and I didn’t know a thing about this sacrament of theirs’.
But this was the last wish of a dying man – a man who was already dead, as far as he was concerned. I couldn’t refuse this.
“What do I need to do?� I asked.
“Listen to me confess, and then say the prayer of absolution,� he said. “And then…end it for me.�
“What’s the prayer?� I asked.
“Look in the confessional booth back there,� he said. “Father Jacob was just out of the seminary; he still had a note card that he wrote down some crucial prayers on.�
“Alright,� I said. “But you’re coming with me, back there.�
Martin nodded and got up.
I let him walk in front of me to the back of the church, and we made our way to the confessional where Father Jacob’s body was. I looked around the confessional booth, and sure enough, there was a note card sitting on one of the wooden shelves marked “absolution.� I pulled out the benches from the empty confessional booth and motioned Martin to sit down across from me on one of them. He took his seat as I sat down, pulling the slide back on my pistol.
“Go ahead,� I said. “
Martin crossed himself as he began his prayer.
“Bless me, for I have sinned,� he began.
Over the next few minutes, he recounted his litany of sins – mostly the murders he had committed since being turned, but even confessing to attacking the vampire gang that tried to recruit him. He also let a few other things off his chest that I couldn’t figure out – unresolved issues from before his turning, I suspected.
Fifteen minutes later, he had stopped recounting his sins and started into another prayer. When he ended the prayer with “Amen,� he motioned to me, which I took as my cue. His eyes never left me the entire time. He was obviously determined to go out courageously.
I had spent the past few minutes memorizing the prayer on the card as well as listening to his sins, so I didn’t have to look down at the card while intoning it.
“God, the father of mercies,� I began, “through the death and resurrection of his son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins.�
My heart grew heavier as I approached the end of the prayer.
“Through the ministry of the Church,� I continued, “may God grant you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins…�
I pointed the Manhunter at Martin’s head, the laser sight painting its red dot on his forehead once again.
“In nomine Patris,� I said, switching to Latin, “et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.�
Martin crossed himself again as I intoned the Latin verse.
“Go in peace,� I whispered solemnly.
One second and one trigger pull later, it was over.
A few minutes later, after moving the benches back and composing myself, I stepped out the rear entrance, my pistol holstered. The Lone Star backup still wasn’t there yet, not that I expected them to be. I knocked on the van’s back door, and Sato opened it.
“It’s done,� I told him. “The target’s dead.�
Sato nodded.
“No chance of an arrest, I take it?� he asked.
I shook my head.
“None.�
“Well, we always knew it was a possibility,� he said. “But if it had to be done, it’s an acceptable price to pay for the streets being a little safer.�
He was right, it was.
I just wish it didn’t have to happen to that kind of a person.
A couple hours later, after a debriefing with Sato and his superiors, I found myself standing outside Jenkins’ parents Queen Anne Hill house, a small box in hand containing the wallet that Martin had given me, and inside that, the note and pictures Martin wanted me to give his family.
I had thought more than twice about doing this right after having shot Martin, but this couldn’t wait – I didn’t want them to hear the news that their son was dead from some soulless news anchor.
I’d left a note in the box for them that simply said, “Delivered at the request of Martin, who now resides in paradise.� I figured whatever note Martin had written them – I hadn’t look at it out of respect – would explain everything else.
Setting the box down, I rang the doorbell and took off in a roundabout route towards Downtown, my adept powers concealing my footfalls.
“And in local news,� the news anchor said, “the so-called ‘Vampire Serial Killer’ was shot dead overnight in a fight against Lone Star officers. Lone Star has so far remained sparse on the details, refusing to make any further comment other than confirming the death of the suspect.�
I changed the channel on my trid set. The last thing I needed was to be reminded of the job I’d just completed.
By the next morning, the second 15,000 nuyen payment they’d promised me at the beginning of the job had been delivered to me.
I was glad that I’d gotten so much money off of this one job, because I really needed some time to decompress after this job.
In 14 years of hunting, I’d never met an Infected like this, who actually felt bad for what they’d done. And now I’d met the exception to the rule, and it had thrown my whole worldview into question.
How do I approach the hunt, now that I know that vampires like that exist? Do I go at it with abandon, like I had with the many fumigation missions I’d gone on? Or do I treat every hunt like I’m putting down an ailing dog? Or do I judge things on a case-by-case basis, enjoying taking out the truly evil and feeling pity for the unfortunate victims of circumstance?
Of course, the first question that came to mind was, do I hunt again at all?
The answer to that came in a matter of seconds: Yes. Because whether or not they’re evil monsters or just “mad dogs,� they pose a threat to the world. And as long as they’re around, someone has to defend humanity from them.
I still had a job to do. And I would do it to my dying day.
I am, and always will be, an Infected hunter.