Hunt the Hunter

[Michael Vellas]

It did not take long to secure his leave for the day. In fact, it was suspiciously easy. He had informed the general staff that he would be absent for the day - on leave due to a 'slight malady' - and he heard nothing in the way of protests. Perhaps they had grown used to his command - as unlikely as that seemed going by the unanimous resolution of intrepid reluctance that the Custody military had greeted him with.

It was nothing more than a passing thought thrown away by the more pressing concern of possible death. Tony would have called him an idiot and perhaps he would be right to do so. Nonetheless, it was a challenge he had embraced. Fear was overwhelmed by the thrill of the impending battle.

It was not the drunken stupor of blood-lust - the power inside him had purged that long ago. It was much more significant and would not leave him empty and lifeless like so many soldiers had been throughout history.

Could he outmatch the instinct of a born predator?

Only time would tell.

When he returned, Dr. Weston was ready and waiting for him with the nitrogen. The disguise would not fool the intelligent observer, but it was only an expedient to smooth their path.

As for himself, he pushed a steel cart full of sacks of grain he had obtained with the help of Shakir. That man was truly useful, if only the Custody staff could see past his Arabian ancestry.

Not a few of the soldiers gave him confused looks but he ignored them and ordered them back to their duties. They would wonder, but it was no concern of his. He would do what was necessary; if they dismissed him, so be it. If they wanted his head - they could try.

He acknowledged Dr. Weston with a grave nod. "Thank you for your co-operation. I will explain my plan."
He gestured at the cart in front of him. "We will be merchants delivering grain to a storehouse a few kilometres from the base. The business is legitimate thanks to a contact of mine, so there should be no concern there. Of course, this will also serve to transport the nitrogen."


The image of two conspicuously pale and shaved men hauling 5 litres of nitrogen through the city would not inspire trust.

Now, the most critical part. He wondered at the apprehension that rose in him. Why should he be anxious at revealing his strategy?

"As I said, I will be the bait. That creature was after me, so I will give it what it wants. I am not entirely sure how it hunts, but I think it may be because of my...abilities. If so, I shall draw it out by casting a net it cannot miss over the city and lure it to the storehouse. I am convinced it will not attack in the open - it seemed to want to avoid the notice of others."


"Once in the warehouse, I shall occupy it's attention giving you the opportunity to attack from the rear. As you may remember,"
he knew he remembered all too well, "it can become...mist to avoid direct assault. When this happens, you will use the nitrogen to freeze it."


He studied her face for a long moment.

"I can't guarantee it will work. It may prove ineffective. In that case, return here."
He held up a hand before she berrated him for trying to be a hero. "I have no intention of sacrificing myself for you or anyone else, Dr Weston. I will not be caught off-guard again, I assure you."
His gaze was cool as ice, his confidence chill and unwavering.

The power welled up inside him spreading through his bones, his very marrow. He spun nets of Wardings that stretched into the camp and beyond.

I will be ready this time, creature.