Hunting in Obscurity

  • Thread starter Laggy Lagiacrus
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Andrew poked at the remains of his breakfast, his mind vaguely humming with the thoughts that plagued him so. He had guessed Irene would have moved to some place or other with someone, in order to initiate her into the guild properly, and that the most plausible course of action for him to take was to go out hunting for a while. Being idle was no activity to pass the time, and held little in the way of being productive. However, upon attempting to exit the building, an emotionless call of "Mr Johnson" alerted him to the secretary wishing for his presence, and he walked back to the desk with due haste.
"Is something wrong?"
"Yes. You attempted to leave the premises without your partner. New hunters must always be accompanied by the guardian assigned. It's one of the few rules we officially have, try not to break it."
"And who, my I ask, IS my partner?"
"Miss Waters."
Michael, you sonofa-
"Is that so? What do you propose I do now?"
"Attend to her while she is tested."
"Why?"
"Because you have been assigned to h-"
"Just tell my brother to mind his own business. Give her Hunt, for all I care."
He did care about Irene's welfare though, mostly because she was the only person who had said she believed him - the drunken rambling comforted him, even if it was likely false. That aside, he didn't want to allow his nemesis the satisfaction of victory.
 
The lift doors opened at the fifth level. The first one to get out, and quite fast actually, was Chuckles; then followed Irene, who was feeling rather uncomfortable in there with the odd man, and finally Bob himself.

There was one hall there, with some sofas and the occasional dead potted plant in a corner. Irene saw two large glass doors, opposed, one in front of the other; on of the rooms was empty, and because the lights were off and the windows were closed she couldn't see much of what was inside. But the other room had several dummies and targets, and looked like the perfect place to practice some moves or test a weapon. She even saw some other members doing so. She stayed still for some seconds, watching two (for her, strangers) engaged in a sword fight.

''No no, not that way yet, my dear,'' Bob's voice brought her back to reality once more. Irene turned her head around and saw him beckoning her, as he headed into a dimly lit but short corridor. He opened two doors, not unlike the emrgency exit doors seen at many places. Only these were easily opened from both sides.

The room on the other side wasn't huge, but is was packed up with so many weapons that there was barely any space left to walk between the rows of shelves, drawers, tables and lockers. Irene's eyes widened as she saw all these, especially some heavy looking battleaxes. Some, she was sure, had a handle longer than herself. No way she was going to use that... her petite body neede a weapon to match. Most looked large and bulky.

''Don't you have anything more...'' she asked, trying to find the word, ''...less... more lightweight?''
 
"I will NOT be her personal bodyguard! It was a stretch drinking with her!"
He didn't particularly hate Irene - in fact, Andrew liked her, in the sense that she seemed like a person he could get along with well enough. However, he had long considered his brother to be the closest thing to a friend he could possibly have had since the incident. An enemy. Hunt was simply an annoyance to him now, but the manner in which Michael conducted his business with Andrew seemed to make him far more formidable. He was not by any means, a bad person - insofar as that he did not kill people unnecessarily. Regardless, the older sibling was someone Andrew did not hold in high regard, and they had maintained a bitter feud for years.
It had to be said, the Christmas dinners were atrocious displays.
Frustrated with his inability to do anything but conform to the orders presented to him, he got into the lift, only to find the face of someone he recognised smiling back at him, the happy grin plastered ll over his face.
"Hello there!" Hunt said to Andrew, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. That was part of James' cleverness -he could be anyone, at any time.
 
''Sure,'' Bob answered, giving her a mischievous smile that made her shudder. Irene took a mental note not to look at him, especially if they were talking, if she could avoid it.

''What about... Daggers?'' he said, opening a drawer. Several daggers were inside, carefully arranged. ''Some shortsword like these?'' he gestured, showing a shelf nearby. Many shortswords were there, not as carefully arranged though. Bob picked up one, taking it out of its sheath, and handed it to Irene. She scowled. She made the attempt to grab it, but she didn't, discarding the idea soon. Bob left the shortsword somewhere else, tossed among some crossbows.

''You wouldn't be interested in crossbows would you- oh, no, of course not. Are you the type that goes for guns? We have a fine selection, too...''

Irene rolled her eyes. One more minute with this guy and she would be picking any weapon just to get out of the room.

It was Chuckles who saved her, somehow. The creature grunted, and scratched a drawer next to them- one close to the floor- and looked back at Bob. He knelt, and opened the drawer. Many types of shruriken glistened inside.

''And there is also this...'' he said, trailing off, as he opned the drawer on top of that one. Small knives. ''These are good for throwing. We also have darts somewhere. But you can't rely on these only- you need to pick another weapon, it's the norm. These are used just as backup, legally speaking''

Is there laws actually regulating this?, Irene asked herself, as she surveyed the content of the drawers. She picked up a shruriken between her fingers. It felt strange. She couldn't tell what it was. Not yet.

''Fair enough. Let it be these... can I take some knives as well?... and this dagger. Is a dagger enough?'', she asked.

''Certainly'', he answered, as he handed her two knives, and a cloth bag that was in the drawer as well.
Irene took it and placed more of the shrurikens inside. Her fingers itched, strangely. She grabbed the first dagger she saw.

''Anything else?'' she asked, eagerly to get out and gain some distance from him. The badger seemed nice, however.

''If you're good with that, then, please follow me'', Bob answered, and with that they headed out and into the hall again.
 
"Hunt. It's always a displeasure."
"Oh, you're too kind."
Now having decided to stand in an inconspicuous corner of the lobby, the two were engaged in one of their trademark battle of words, each attempting to break the other's resolve - it was basically the devil, facing off against the emotional equivalent of a stone. The battles usually ended in a draw, the only wins - or, indeed, losses - emerging from such things as dirty, underhanded tricks, or low blows few would resort to - James included. Irrespective of the fashion in which their childish squabble transpired, the were still attempting to one-up each other, and could continue until neither was able to, or someone split them apart. First and foremost, they were hunters, and therefore, they had a job to do that took place above what seemed to be infantile grudges to most. However, this was the last thing on either's mind, and the secretary knew better than to incur their wrath - they didn't particularly fear many people in the guild, even if they heeded advice that seemed relevant and useful. It was unlikely either would notice anybody performing most actions, needing direct contact - or some form of major distraction - to break them from this repetitious charade.
 
Motivated just to make things go forward so that Bob would finally leave her alone, Irene hurried up and got inside the training room first, following the badger, who seemed to know quite well his part of the job as well. The creature stopped in front of a large panel against the wall; several figures were traced in what seemed like chalk, and some were in rather comical poses. She supposed the hunters themselves drew them; she let out a single laugh, which soon turned into asour sigh as Bob caught up with her.

The excercise was simple; after some brief explanation, Irene understood the basics on weapon handling and throwing, and that Bob did not really know how to use them, either. Probably the badger did better than them. About ten minutes elapsed after she had started to try her luck throwing the knives, when the itchy feeling between her fingers became too annoying to let her keep going. Irene looked down at her hands, unable to stop the scratching- it was starting to get painful as well- and saw her fingers swollen and reddened with a rash of crimson dots all over her fair skin.

Bob saw it, too, and gave her a somber look.

''That is not something you fix with your everyday first aid kit,'' he said, holding her hand for a second, before Irene took it away. ''We should go ask downstairs, to the secretary, for some antiallerg-''

''Oh I'll go I know where that is thankyouverymuch'' Irene replied, as she walked back and then away, more than happy to get away from him. She caught the lift just as someone was getting off, and saw how the badger squeezed inside as well, just before the doors closed.

Her eyes started to itch, too. Irene made the mistake of rubbing her eyes with her sore fingers...

''shit,''

...only to find out now her eyes were itching just as bad as her fingers.

''Shhhhhhit!'', she repeated, now louder.

A low chuckle was all she got for an answer, coming from somewhere at her feet. Not just in vain the badger was called Chuckles.
The doors opened, and Chuckles darted out in a straight line towards the secretary's desk.
Irene was going to follow it, but she didn't miss the quarrel that was going on in a corner. She just couldn't give credit to her ears. Or eyes. But her eyes were starting to get watery, now, because of the itching. Not scratching was getting hard...

''Andrew? Where thef- where've you been?'' she asked, annoyed about it all. The itching, her bad day, having to see this, having to deal with Bob. ''James?'', she asked, as if by asking names some miracle could happen. Her irritated eyes went from one hunter to the other, back and again.
 
Almost dismissing Hunt completely, in a manner akin to abstaining from any recognition of the man's presence, Andrew turned to Irene, answering her almost immediately, not taking in the condition he could vaguely see on her.
"I had to meet with my brother, Michael. You may not have heard of him, but practically everyone else has. He says he occupies a minor seat in the council, but he practically IS them. I have no idea what he wanted, I had too much of a headache to even begin to fathom whatever it is he said to me. And quite frankly, I don't think it was important. However, he did make me eat breakfast alone - not a pleasant experience, but a highly familiar one. irrespective of this, how have you been?"
Immediately afterwards, Andrew mentally slapped himself. He could see Irene was not in the best of shapes - indeed, she seemed to be irritated by something, though the cause remained unknown. However, he had said what he had said - he would have to bear the consequences, be they were.
 
She stood there for a second, almost forgetting about her itching.
And stared, with her irritated eyes.

Right, so you had to meet with your brother and not even let me know beforehand?
Are you pulling my leg?
Who did you think I had breakfast with? Alone, too, you idiot!


''OH, JUST FANTASTIC,'' she replied, scornfully. ''LIKE YOU WOULDN'T IMAGINE,'' she added, before turning around, now choosing to go where the badger had headed into. Where the secretary was.

''Say hello, to your brother, from me, will you?'' she said, as she walked away, almost inmediately regretting so. She had overreacted a little bit, partly because of her bad day... her bad mood, and the irritating substance which she ignored what it was.
 
Hunt shrugged, a frown and raised eyebrows ridiculously visible.
"Women," he simply said, his expression one of mock frustration, "Can't live with them, can't live without them."
"You know, that is possibly the first thing I've heard you say that doesn't make you a smarmy git."
The two stared at each other's respective expressions for a second or two, Irene's outburst having caused some sort of mutual silence between the two adversaries. Andrew had decided it was better that Hunt was not revealed to Irene, lest she fly into yet another rage, or throw a tantrum. The arch-nemesis seemed to play along, making sure he did not make it more obvious than necessary that he was present, the secretary unable to care in the slightest. Two hunters walked leisurely out, discussing a topic that seemed no more than small talk, something to pass the uneventful hours of waiting for a good haul.
"So what was that blip on the radar?"
"I don't know, but it was definitely in the building."
"Huh... Maybe it was one of those spies that seem all the rage these days. I hear rumours that there's even..."
The banter faded before any more could be divulged, but it was of little interest to either of the two.
"I told you this kind of thing would happen, Andrew. You're just not meant to have friends."
"And you're not meant to be alive, but look at us now."
Meanwhile, the secretary was already readying a call to the local medical practitioner, being able to tell at a glance Irene was not in a situation she favoured.
"I'd advise you run me through what happened."
The secretary's vote - small, yet priceless.
 
''Not much- I had breakfast, then this... man, I think, Bob? Is it? He took me to the training room. We chose some weapons and then started practising,'' Irene started to tell to the secretary, closing her eyes shut to remember and also to refrain herself from scratching. ''Then my fingers itch. Then I look down, and they're all reddened, and then it starts itching and burning like-'' she stopped just in time to avoid saying some word out of place. Or at least what she considered out of place in front of that secretary, who was quite peculiar.


She observed Chuckles, who was sniffing at the secretary's shoes.
No, it just can't be an allergy to badgers. I woke up right next to it and my ears are okay... It's gotta be something else.

''...Maybe something used to clean the weapons?'' she guessed.
 
Stoic and emotionally void as always, the secretary tapped a few words into her computer, studying the results carefully, her analytical brain working through and whittling down the possibilities that presented themselves. She had not reached a conclusion, not having enough facts to do so, but for the time being, such an explanation seemed the most apt - or, at the very least, plausible.
"The cleaner or the disinfectant does not agree with everyone. We have the same types of weapons stored in different areas, due to this, so if irritation is due to such thing, I will have your current equipment exchanged for weapons more suitable for you."
The response was delivered impartially - if not so before, it was obvious now she cared not for Irene beyond a professional level. Regardless, this was how she treated all members of the guild, and nobody made any significant bones about it. She did her job, and that was all anybody needed from her. A few more commands were typed into the PC, and she proceeded with another topic. "Irrespective of your current state, when you are fit for work, you will naturally be assigned to a partner in order to allow you to settle easier. Your partner has been selected as Andrew Johnson. However, this arrangement can still be debated, if you can provide plausible reasons for it."
 
Irene forgot about her irritation for a moment, as the secretary mentioned her officially assigned partner. Slowly, she turned her head back, and glared at him- with her red, moist eyes- and just as slowly she turned her head back again to face the secretary once more. Well, at least her partner was not Bob, and she was glad for it. And perhaps he did have a legitimate excuse, or at least a better explanation, for his absence. And perhaps she had overreacted a little bit. And perhaps she wasn't in the mood to start thinking any plausible reasons to get someone else.

''Alright. Sounds fine'', she replied. ''So... now... you're going to give me something for this, change the weapons and as soon as I'm good again this... Johnson will help me with my training, right?'' she asked back, just to make sure she understood everything.
 
"No. I won't give it to you. Instead, he will."
As if on cue, a circular tub - coloured a pale green - was placed upon the desk in front of the secretary, the person delivering it leaving as quickly as he had come out. Evidently, he did not play much of a role in the hierarchy, and as such, he did not speak much - his mannerisms alone betrayed this. Regardless, bar the delivery, his presence was inconsequential, and nobody paid him much heed. Inside the tub was a simple portion of a mint-coloured cream, that smelt vaguely of the substance it was similar in hue to, and it was evident it held some form of medicinal quality. "Apply this to the affected areas. All I can advise you do for your eyes, is that you wash them, and hope for the best. I would have you see one of our physicians, but we had an incident recently that...Well, I'm not really at liberty to say. Rest assured, however, that we have had cases like yours, and they have blown over with no lasting effects. As for your training, it depends on your partner's condition. I'm sure you saw the state he was in last night. If not, we have professionals who will handle this sort of thing. If that is all, I suggest you apply the ointment. Johnson will likely be outside, doing his job, but he will be kept within the vicinity."
 
''Thank you. Yes, yes I saw how he was last night, I saw'', Irene replied, taking the minted tube, and sighing. She forced a smile to the secretary, not caring much if she was going to get one back from her or not. It was probably some old habit she learned at work. Smile to the customers...''I will let you know as soon as I'm feeling better. Thanks again''.

She sniffed the ointment once before placing the lid back in, and heading again towards the lift. She purposedly did not look at anybody as she left, and felt somewhat strange as she saw this time the badger was not entering the lift after her. Irene shrugged, and placed a finger inside the tube. It felt like ordinary ointment. She started to spread it over her hands, where she had her rash. It felt better, but it didn't go away just yet.

Perhaps she should apply the rest of the ointment as she got to her room and take a short nap. Her last night sleep had not been good enough, and her day so far, really, made her wish she could erase it and start it over again, this time the right way.
 
Wasting no time, knowing perfectly well arguing with his sworn nemesis would get him nowhere except out of the guild, Andrew exited the premises, his sword clanking against his thigh. Today was just going to be like any other day - hunt, kill, report kill. Rinse and repeat as necessary. Though some would have looked upon this with wonder, Andrew looked upon it with disdain, having grown weary of the routine. Something niggled at him, told him that there was a world out there he should see before he copped it. Unfortunately, the lack of people acknowledging his existence meant he probably would not go down under before he went six feet down under. Nevertheless, he continued forwards, sussing out the banal situation before him. It never crossed his mind to worry about Irene - it wasn't in his nature. He didn't worry about people, and people didn't worry about him. That was how he saw things work, and didn't bother wanting to change them. Following the scent of a low-level best, he sauntered off, his mind flat and uninterested.
 
It was not only until later on that evening that Irene went down once again to the secretary's booth. Her eyes had improved, and her hands were still red, but not swollen, and didn't itch or burn her anymore. She had skipped lunch, and taken a nap instead- she was fresh now. Almost rejuvenated. And hungry.

''I'm feeling better now. I will be waiting for my assigned... partner at the restaurant,'' she let the secretary know. With that, Irene headed back towards the lift and then into the huge dining room.

Of course, she was not just going to wait. She waited, as she munched her way through a lamb sandwich, and later, a slice of cake. There was nothing like a sweet slice of cake when she really, really felt like having one. It was something so good in fact, that she recovered her good mood.
 
Lunch was something Andrew never had a distinct amount of interest in, his average day consisting of things that matched his grey, uninteresting supplements. Sheathing the weapon, he trudged sluggishly into the building, wiping a splatter of green-blue blood from his right cheek. Lowl-level insects and a vaguely large dog had been all that had appeared during the day, and yet, an indubitably persistent hunger niggled at him, bothering him to acquire sufficient food to quell the stomach pains. Nobody spoke to him as he took a sandwich, half-heartedly biting into it, as he meandered callously to Irene. The chicken and salad were cold, but he did little to care about this, satisfied he hd found who he was looking for, and that he had food.
"Feeling better?"
 
Irene was just finishing with her slice of cake. She placed the last bit inside her mouth as she saw Andrew coming towards her.

''Much better, hmmh'' she answered, her mouth full. She sucked her fingers shamelessly. She was not, after all, high class for anything.

''You tell me now,'' she said, after swallowing. ''What are we up to...., partner?''
 
"Hunting, hunting, or hunting. A vast choice, I know."
The line was delivered with the utmost boredom, a tone Andrew deserved to use. Regardless, he had pretty much covered the entire career of a hunter, aside from the things that most other humans did - eat, sleep, the like. The rest of his food was eaten fairly quickly - he was a slow walker, and a quick eater. That was how he had been, and despite people saying he was rude at the dinner table, it bothered him not. "That a problem? This IS your decision."
Even with his brother attempting to get him to be able to interact with the real world, the most his social etiquette amounted to was a muttered word of thanks. But, he was a hunter, not a friend. He hunted, and he hunted well. A blank, disinterested look plastered on his face, he looked to Irene, expecting an answer of some sort.
 
Irene's face clearly showed how much she was not impressed about anything at all. She sighed, raised her eyebrows and looked back at him with a tired look. She let out one soft, single laugh, before answering, ''Not a problem at all... The lady downstairs said you had something to do about my training. I need some weapon, at least''.

She paused, and her eyes caught sight of the badger running towards the kitchen. She didn't say a thing about it. Looking back at Andrew, but talking to herself out loud mostly, she added, ''... And gloves. 'Cause I'm not touching one of those whatever the thing that was that made me that''.

She took some napkin and cleaned her fingers before tossing it back again over the table.
''Shall we?'' she asked, ready to go.