^
yu welcome

Julie quietly switched the TV off and carefully placed the DVD back in its case.
"You just did okay, huh? Looks to me like you put up an amazing fight. You could have given up a bunch of times. You would be surprised. Most people faced with something out of their nightmares will just freeze up. Their brains can't begin to process what they're seeing, and by then it's too late, and next thing you know something from the great beyond is flossing with their spine. Hunters don't freeze. Hunters fight."
"Listen, I'm just a normal guy. I'm an accountant even. It doesn't get any more normal than that!" I exclaimed in defense of my average life.
Julie pulled a file folder out of her purse.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Your secret file from the Department of Homeland Security."
"If the government didn't want it stolen, they shouldn't just leave it out where any master hacker can break in and get it," Harbinger explained patiently.
"Mike Zachary Pitt, age 24. Born in California…

"My mom's family is mostly mixed America and Serb.
"Oh." She continued, "Black belt in two martial arts. You wrestled in high school and took the state championship heavyweight division two years in a row. Homeland Security has you flagged because you're considered a militant right-wing gun nut. You became involved in competitive shooting at eight years old, and have a master rating in International Practical Shooting. You've placed in the top five in several different national level three-gun tactical competitions. You were ranked as one of the top young shooters in the country, though you've slipped over the last few years."
"Working too many hours, hard to keep up the practice routine." My father had been more drill instructor than dad, trying to prepare us for some kind of future armaggeddon that existed in his paranoid imagination. I could hit targets at a quarter mile with a rifle before I could ride a bike. When normal kids went to summer camp and made crafts out of beads and twigs, my brother and I had gone on miniature death marches with giant bagpacks. Other children got sports, I got hand-to-hand combat training. I suppose showing up in a government database shouldn't have been too shocking.
"You tried to join the Army but were turned down due to some minor health problems. Homeland also notes that you've participated in illegal pit fighting and in illegal sports gambling organizations."
I cringed, it not being something I was real proud of now.
"It says here that you earned a bachelor's and a master's degree in six years total, top of your class, passed the CPA exam the first time. National Honor Society," Juliet continued.
After coming within a couple heartbeats of ending another fighter's life, I had devoted myself to being as boring as possible, no more pushing the limits, nothing but normal. And what was more normal than an accountant?
"You speak five languages fluently, mostly because of your extremely varied family background, and know enough to get by in several others. Your psychological profile says that you're a pathological overachiever with severe overcompensating tendencies as a result of your relationship with your father, and the fact that you were always the picked-on fat kid while growing up."
"Does it actually say 'fat kid'?" I asked in total suprise.
"Actually it says it in some sort of psychological mumbo-jumbo about body image and self-esteem, but I'm just summarising."
"I wasn't fat. I was big-boned." I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my temples. I was amazed that all of this was from some government database.


"Look, Owen, you're not a normal person; none of us are normal, either. MHI is a family business, my family. My great- great-granddad founded the company, five generations of Hunters. You haven't seen weird until you've met my family, so don't feel bad." Julie patted my knee. She touched me! I perked right up.
"We're not looking for normal people. Normal people scream and run and get eaten. You have to be a little different to do the kind of stuff that we do. I mean, heck, looking at your shooting scores, I've been shooting pistols since I was a little kid, and your classifications blow mine away. Your National Match rifle scores are equal to mine, and I'm the team sharpshooter."
As Julie said this I realized that I had in fact met the woman of my dreams. Attractive, smart, and a shooter? Wow.
"I don't know. I don't have any experience with this kind of thing. Aren't you better off with soldiers or Marines or Navy SEALs and stuff like that? My gosh, I'm an office dude."
Harbinger answered this time."We have all of those, and we also have former truck drivers, school teachers, farmers, doctors, a priest and a stripper, and pretty much anything else you can think of. It comes down to finding people who don't have a problem coping with weirdness. The best Hunters are people whose minds are… flexible."
"Well… the pay seems good," I said as I held up the check.
"Keep in mind that was for you on a solo bounty. When you work with a team you share bounties with the team, and the company. However, people who try monster hunting as individuals usually get real dead, real quick. Working with backup is the only way to stay alive. But with the amount of business that we do, the pay's good," Harbinger said.
"How good?"
Harbinger shrugged. "We have a real problem with our experienced people retiring and buying small states."
"I'm guessing it's dangerous?"
Julie shrugged. "I won't lie to you. It's super dangerous. Our job is to go head to head with the forces of evil. We lose a lot of people, but with well trained groups that work together as a team, we do better than any other group of Hunters, and that includes the Federal agents."
I sat silently in thought. My visitors didn't say anything for a moment. Finally Julie tried one last thing.
"Look, I'm going to tell you the truth. We have the most insane job in the world, many of us die young, and sometimes in really horrible ways. But this is the best job there is. It's never boring, and you get to do something really worthwhile. We're the pros, the go-to people when all hell's broken loose. When the situation is totally hosed, we're the ones they call. We do the job that nobody else can do, and we do it good." She said this with deep and sincere emotion. Julie obviously had a passion for her work.
I absently rubbed my facial scar. A random thought popped into my mind and I instantly muttered it under my breath.
"What was that?" asked Julie.
"A calling. Is hard, but is good."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, just something an old man said to me once. Short straw." I thought about the strange dream that I had had in the hospital. Had it happened while I was technically dead?
"Huh?"
"Never mind." I had to admit, I was interested in what they had been telling me, and I was a real sucker when it came to a pretty girl, especially one who was smart, and into guns, to boot.
This was crazy. I had spent the last few years trying to be average just for once, until my boss had tried to have me for dinner and life had pulled the rug out from under my feet. The smart thing to do would be to push this whole incident to the back of my mind, and forget it ever happened.
But I did need a job, and Mike Z. Pitt, Monster Hunter, had a certain ring to it.
Ah, what the hell.
"Tell you what, Mr. Harbinger, Ms. Shackleford. I'm going to go down to the bank and try to deposit this check. If it's real, and I don't get arrested for trying to pass a make-believe check, I'm going to believe everything that you said. I'm in, on two conditions."
They waited for my terms. I paused as I screwed up my courage.
"If at any time I think this job is totally insane, I'm out of there. No questions, no ifs, ands, or buts. Don't think I'm kidding either. I've been shafted already, and I'm not going to do that again. You screw with me in any way, shape, or form and you can mark me gone."
"We wouldn't have it any other way," Julie said. "And what else?"
"You, uh… need to have dinner with me tonight," I stammered, surprising myself with my own courage. There you go, Casanova. I had no idea why I had said that, it had just kind of popped out.
Julie looked momentarily taken aback. I could not tell from her reaction if she was flattered or insulted by my lame attempt to ask her out. Ed rolled his eyes.
"I guess you ain't talking about me," he said.
"No, I… uh… well, I just thought, you know…" It wasn't exactly poetry.
She did not respond immediately. I think I took her by surprise. I knew that surprise was good in war, but it wasn't necessarily what I was going for here. I have never been very good with women. Actually, that's an understatement. I turn into a bumbling incompetent oaf around them.
"Was that a lame attempt to ask me out?" she queried. "It's usually considered bad form to do that in what is basically a job interview."
"Well, I just wanted to… maybe ask some questions. About, you know-"
Ed cut me off. "There's some more business that I need to conduct anyway. I've got to go. Julie can fill you in on the reast of the details." He stood up. "You kids have fun."


"Ed, wait a second, what about…" Julie started to stand. My heart skipped. Had I offended her?
"Julie, you know what I'm talking about. You know what tonight is. Stick around. Fill Me in on the details of our operation." He adjusted his bomber jacket.
She slowly slid back down the couch. Way to go, Ed! I thought happily.


Harbinger made as if to leave. I tried to grab my crutch so I could stand to see him out.
"Not necessary," he said as he shook my hand. "I look forward to working with you."
"Me too," I responded before wincing at the amazing strength in the man's fingers as he easily crushed my much larger hand. He was far stronger than he appeared. I tried not to visibly show how much pain he was inflicting. He bent down and spoke low enough in my ear that Julie couldn't hear.
"That took guts, but be a gentleman with her, or I'll be displeased," he whispered. I had no doubt that his displeasure would somehow involve me becoming seriously injured.
I nodded. He let go, grinned evilly and patted me on the back, before swiftly leaving.
Juliet Shackleford sat on my bargain basement furniture in my rundown apartment in a bad part of town and examined me quizzically. I had no idea what she was thinking. It was an awkward moment.
Finally she broke the silence.
"Want to order pizza?"
"So you know all about me because of that file," I said after swallowing a blob of cheese and pineapple. Delivery had been relatively swift, the pizza was good, and surprisingly enough Julie seemed to be enjoying our conversation. After the first few awkward minutes she had warmed up to my attempt at flirting, and was at least tolerating me. Her smile was contagious, and I felt better than I had in weeks. The sun was starting to set, and long orange shadows were cast through my barred apartment windows.
"Scary, isn't it? How much they keep track of people," she said, trying to be polite and not talk with her mouth full, and failing miserably. "You should see what mine says. If you read it you would probably be scared to be around me. They think I'm totally nuts."
"Oh, I don't know about that," I replied, going for another slice, trying not to lean forward on my bad leg too much. "You don't seem nuts to me, except for the whole good versus evil zombie werewolf thing at least."
She noticed my predicament and helpfully shoved the box closer on my little coffee table. My furniture was sparse and mostly cheap junk, but at least the place was clean, even if it was only because my mom had visited recently.
"They think everybody in this line of work is certifiable. They even think that about their own guys that Hunt."
"Like the two that visited me in the hospital?" I asked.
"Myers and Franks? Myers isn't so bad. Believe it or not, he worked for us before the government recruited him, but that was a long time ago. He had a bit of a falling out. Franks on the other hand is a jerk. I'm surprised he didn't kill you just to be on the safe side. We have to deal with the Feds once in a while. They watch us like hawks. They're actually in a special unit in the Justice Department, the Monster Control Bureau, that deals with problems like you."
"Problems like me, gee thanks. Anyway, I don't want to talk about those guys." I really did not. I wanted to talk about her. "Like I was saying, you've seen my file, so you have the advantage. Tell me about you."
"Well, first off, I'm in a relationship if that's what you want to know," she replied mischievously. "I'm just here as a professional courtesy."
Ouch.
"Really, I wasn't trying to say anything like that," I responded quickly.
"Mike, you may be a great accountant, and one heck of a shooter, but you're a horrible liar."
She leaned back on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table next to the pizza box. I noticed that she was wearing heavy-duty boots that did not really match her conservative suit. As she made herself comfortable and her jacket fell open revealing her fitted shirt, I realized two things: a) She had a great body, and b) she was carrying a gun in a leather pancake holster on her right hip.
Not able to comment on a) in a polite manner, I instead remarked on b).
"What are you carrying?"
"This?" She reached around, drew the gun, dropped the magazine, racked the slide and expertly caught the ejected round in her off hand. She then passed it over to me with the action open while she rattled off the stats only another gun nut would appreciate. "Commander- sized 1911, Baer slide and frame, match barrel. Heinie night sights. Thin Alumagrips. Bobtail conversion to the frame. All Greider tool steel parts. Trigger and action job. It's a good shooter. I've carried this one for a year now."
I examined her gun. It was a gorgeous piece of work. The slide was so smooth it felt like it was on rollers. It was obviously used hard, but well cared for.
"Mind if I try the trigger? I'm a 1911 guy myself."
"Go for it," she said with a grin.

Hey! Congrats on making front page!! We need more updates

wait a minute ..., was I suppose to read all that?

Following

Love d story.esp d intro.so captivating

Wonderful piece

More updates please!

Micheal you were banned by the antispambot and your update hidden, but i have unbanned you and shown it. Report to me next time it happens. By the way, your story is a masterpiece.

Waoh! nice fiction u got!
But you need to avoid abbreviations. It seems it's your phone you are using to post!
also As earlier noted by a reader, make sure you paragraph your posts as in to differentiate episodes!


keep the good work on, I dey follow you bumper to bumper.... Lolz

D Micheal nice story man!!

Yall should check ma story out..

www.nairaland.com/1565338/legend-ikotun-boy-callmefemi#20398796

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Bros mike. I dy folow u smoothly..abeg no stp

Evad: To the mod that moved this to fp, gracias

To the readers pls make una no read clean mouth o lol,
pls leave a comment or review
On behalf of dmichael, you're welcome

cnt tell u hw much i appreciate.u my numba 1 fan bro.

To those who commented and are following,i can't tell u gys hw much i appreciate.I'll try my best nt to disappoint.

Updating.

"Who made the gun?" I asked. It was obviously a high quality custom build. Being a serious competitor on a limited budget I did my own gunsmithing. My stuff tended to be ugly but functional. This specimen was obviously functional but it was so well fitted that it was almost a work of art.


"I did most of it myself," Julie said with obvious pride.
"Will you marry me?" I blurted.
She laughed, and it was such a pretty laugh. I reluctantly handed her gun back. She reinserted the magazine, chambered a round, and then took the magazine out to top it off with the extracted round she still had in her hand. She paused for a second and then tossed it to me. Reflexively I snatched it out of the air.
Examining the cartridge, I noticed it was a strange design. The case was normal brass, but the bullet itself was different. It was shaped like an ordinary.45 bullet, except that it appeared to be a standard jacketed hollow point, with a shiny metallic ball filling the cavity. The two pieces appeared to be sealed together into a solid projectile.
"What's this?
"Contrary to the Lone Ranger, silver bullets really suck compared to good old-fashioned lead. Silver's too hard, and it doesn't fully engage the rifling. It's lighter than lead, so you get really lightweight projectiles with lousy accuracy. It's pretty useless except for one thing: it's the only thing that will kill some of the stuff we face."
"Why is that, anyway?" I asked.
"Nobody knows for sure, but we have some theories. Most popular is it is a violent reaction of evil creatures to the thirty pieces of silver that Judas was paid. The Vatican's Hunter team says that it is because silver is a pure metal that represents goodness, while lead is a base metal of the earth. You get other weird ideas from voodoo and mystics, but even science is stumped why silver works so much better on bona fide evil creatures. All we know is that it does. Lycanthropes can't regenerate, and even vampires feel pain from silver."


"Looks like a Carbon Powder Ball." That was a type of regular defensive ammunition that I had used a few times before. It used a ball stuck in a hollow cavity designed to push back to force expansion of the bullet on impact, thereby increasing the severity of the wound.
"Good call. That's who we stole the idea from. The ball in front is pure silver. It penetrates well, and as the silver is forced back it expands the traditional lead slug around it. Usually the silver fragments off after a few inches and leaves a separate wound cavity. Best of both worlds. Still works like a regular bullet, shoots like a regular bullet, but enough silver to do a number on evil. We have them made for us specifically. They cost a fortune, so we only make them in.45 for pistols and subguns, and.308 for rifles. When we need lots of silver up close and fast, we use a modified silver double-aught buckshot."
"Now you're talking my language." I held up the bullet. "So I guess that's what the Federal agents were going to shoot me with if I had been infected."
"Nope, they use a special type. Silver powder encased in a polymer matrix. Neat stuff, but the company that makes it only sells to the government." She caught the bullet when I tossed it back. She loaded it back in the magazine, inserted that back into her 1911 and reholstered without looking.

"You really know your stuff."
"Thanks. I love my job… I really shouldn't have another piece, but this stuff is great," she said as she went for another slice of pizza. "I think you'll fit right in at MHI. It really is a great thing that we do, and we're a good company to work for."
"So about this 'relationship'?" I used my fingers to make quotation marks. Julie rolled her eyes at me behind her glasses.
"You don't quit, do you?"
"Isn't that why you guys want to hire me?"
"Tenacity good. Stalking bad."
"Okay, agreed, stalking bad. Especially when the stalkee is packing heat. So are you and Ed ehmm......?"
Julie snorted and started to choke on her pizza. I couldn't tell if she was trying to laugh or not die. So I didn't know if I should be in on the joke, or try to be a perfect gentleman.
"Ed? You've got to be kidding me. No. Oh no. Hell no. We're related. This is a family business. Why would you even think that? Edward's much older than me."
"He doesn't look that old."
"Let's just say that the man has aged well. Ed has been like a dad to me. He pretty much raised me and my brothers." There was an audible trace of her Southern accent when she said that.
"Why?"
She thought about it for a moment, as if debating whether she should tell me or not, finally she shook her head in the negative.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter." It was obvious it did matter, but it was a sensitive topic and none of my business. On that subject she seemed to be wound tight as a spring. "Just know that Ed is probably the greatest Hunter alive. If he tells you something, listen."



"So is your boyfriend a Hunter too?""Yes he is, and if you ask me any more personal questions, I'm going to beat you to death with your own crutch." She was only half joking, and in my current physical condition, she could probably do it without elevating her heartbeat.
We finished the pizza as the afternoon slowly turned into evening. Julie gradually filled in the gaps in my knowledge about her company, though she was tight-lipped and uncomfortable talking about herself. I did learn more about this interesting woman as she talked about her work, because it was so obviously a big part of her. Julie had worked in this field since she was a child, and seemed to know it very well. As the daylight fled, she started to glance nervously toward the window. I did not ask why.
She was a veritable encyclopedia of monster-related knowledge, and she even let slip the fact that she had earned a degree in ancient history and a master's in archeology because it pertained so much to her life's work.
When I had asked why those particular fields, she explained that the battle did not start recently, and she left it at that.


The open window kept drawing her attention. It was dark outside. Finally I could not help but ask, "So why are you so distracted? What're you looking for?"
Julie sighed, and brushed back her long dark hair, looking relieved. She yawned, stretched, and stood, adjusted her jacket and prepared to leave. She patted her gun to make sure it was properly holstered. "I've got to be going."
"Why?" I asked, puzzled by the sudden change.
"You don't realize what tonight is, do you?" she asked.
"Thursday?" I answered helpfully as I grabbed my crutch and pulled myself out of my chair.
"I wonder if we stole the right file, because for a genius you're not real fast on the uptake."
I shrugged. I had no idea. She grabbed my arm and helped me stand up. Julie looked me in the eye, and I could see my reflection in her thick glasses. Her brown eyes were beautiful.
"It's been one month since you were attacked. The test came back negative, but they're not always right."
She guided me as I hobbled over to the window. The full moon hung low and bright above the Dallas skyline. I realized now why she had stayed. Other than my still sore leg and healing muscles, I felt fine. I wasn't spouting any hair, at least not any more than my normal huge amount.
"So it was a test?"
"Nothing personal. We just had to make sure."
"Oh." I could not think of anything to say. She had been prepared to kill me all along.


We silently watched the sky. I realized that she was still holding my arm, standing close, and I could feel the warm, soft pressure of her body against mine. There together, in the light of the moon, just the slight tenseness of her hands on the muscles of my arm, I could feel her breath on my ear. It was a good moment. I wished that it could last forever. Unfortunately she was only holding me to help keep my pathetic crippled ass from falling down.
Once she was sure that I was stable on my crutch she let go. She reached into her purse, produced a card and handed it over. The card had a set of directions, a very basic map, and a picture of a green happy face with horns.
"We're putting together a training class. It's going to be brutally hard, because we only hire the best. Once you have a chance to think about it, if you're still interested, be at the location on that card in three weeks." I put the card in my pocket.
"I'll be there," I promised.
"Good. Welcome to MHI." She shook my hand in a professional manner.
"Thanks."
"I'll let myself out," Julie said. She started to walk away, leaving me to watch the moon.


Juliet Shackleford made it a few steps, and then surprised me by turning around and coming back. I felt her full lips brush softly against my cheek in a brief kiss. Luckily the crutch was well grounded or I might have fallen headfirst out the window in shock.
"You're a sweet guy, Owen. Thanks for the nice dinner. See you in a few weeks." Then she glided away.



At least I waited for the confirmation of my front door closing before grinning like an idiot. It had been a good day after all. I had gotten some of my questions answered. I had found a new job, one that at least sounded interesting, even if it was a bit of a career change on the crazy side. I had, in theory at least, a check for $50,000 in my pocket. And best of all, a pretty girl had kissed me on the cheek. Yes, it had been a great day indeed.
I pulled the card and examined it. I was going to Alabama.

The next three weeks had passed quickly,and with a bloated bank account, I had packed my bags, sold or given away most of my stuff, broken the lease on my apartment, and driven to the middle of nowhere, following the directions that Juliet Shackleford had left me.
Everything that I still owned was stuffed into the back seat and trunk of my rust-brown Chevy Caprice. All I had was a couple duffel bags with clothing, my laptop, a few other supplies, and about a dozen guns. There was no way I was parting with those. It was a good thing that a Caprice's trunk is big enough to suit a Mafia don.
Julie's directions had been printed on a 3x5 card. Her parting instructions had been for me to meet at the location listed at a certain time and date. She had told me that food and lodging would be provided, but she had not given me any other details.




Following the final directions on the card, I had taken a small, barely paved road through some more hills and into even deeper woods. It branched and I kept to the west for another mile. I almost missed the gravel turnoff. My main indication that I had found the home of Monster Hunter International was a small sign painted with the letters MHI and a green smiley face. The smiley face had horns. As my car bounced slowly down the gravel road I took note of the many no trespassing and trespassers will be shot warnings.
Finally I came to an open gate surrounded by high chain link and razor wire. Near the gate, a man sat in a folding chair under the shade of a large umbrella, relaxed and apparently listening to a big battery-powered radio. He waved as I braked and rolled down my window.
He was an interesting-looking fellow, weathered to the point that it was difficult to guess his age, a little shorter than average, with a shaved head, small rimmed glasses over a blunt freckled nose, and a thick red beard that was absurdly long and pointy. The end had even been braided with a few decorative beads. He was wearing a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and Gucci sandals. He looked kind of like a weak old man except for the worn M4 carbine hanging idly from a tactical-sling draped over his shoulder. He was spitting the remains of sunflower seeds into a cup.
"Hi. I'm looking for MHI," I said.
The man adjusted his glasses and looked at me, head tilted at a slightly strange angle as he smiled absently. Suddenly he clicked his tongue and pointed at me.
"Big dude… Scar face. You must be that guy Ed found. Threw a werewolf out a window?"
"That would be me." I realized that the boom box was set to a talk radio station, and the subject was something to do with black helicopters and cattle pasture. "Juliet Shackleford offered me a job."
"She does that a lot. We're a little short-handed right now, but that's a long story. Drive straight in, park in front of the biggest building. You're a little early, but a few other Newbies are already here. The Boss said that he would say a few words to you guys, so just hang out."
"Newbie?"
"New hire. Greenies. Monster bait. Organ donors. You know. It's slang."
"Oh, okay… I'm Mike Pitt." I stuck my hand out the window.
"Milo Ivan Anderson. Jack of all trades, master of a couple. Call me Milo. If you live long enough I'm the guy that gets to teach you how all of the cool stuff works." He shook my hand and grinned. His beard stretched halfway to his shorts. "See you around."
I parked in the lot that Milo pointed out, locked the doors out of habit, and checked out the surroundings. The MHI property could probably best be described as a compound. The main building appeared to be the only permanent structure, being constructed of heavy red brick and steel. It was an office building, but with narrow windows, obviously thick walls, and iron bars. It looked like it could pass muster as a fortress if the need arose. I wouldn't be surprised if there had been a big pot, full of boiling oil, just out of sight on the wide flat roof. As I entered I realized that the main doors opened into a small room that narrowed down to a smaller set of doors. Suspended overhead was what appeared to be a heavy gate that could be dropped to seal the secondary doors.

Very interesting.


An older lady was seated behind a massive reception desk. She smiled at me as I approached. At least the staff here was friendly. She had to be in her sixties and looked plump and cheerful. She was wearing a motherly purple knit sweater, but the large- frame revolver in her shoulder holster was printing pretty badly through the fabric.
"Hello, dear. You must be here for the orientation," she said.
"Yes. My name's Mike Pitt."
"Oh, I recognize you. You're the one that kicked that werewolf's ass. That was some mighty fine brawling, sonny."
"Uh, thanks, I guess."
"No, thank you. Ed showed us all that video. It was right entertaining. I hate werewolves. Used to hunt the sons a bitches once my own self. Used to could do a fair job in my day, till one of the bastards took my leg. This one here is plastic." She knocked on her plastic leg for effect. It made a hollow noise. "My old one was made out of wood, but it would swell up when it got wet and hot. I reckon it does get mighty wet in these parts. No place at all for a wood leg. Could be worse. Painted it brown, same color as the other.Oh well, sign in here."
My signature was quick and sloppy on the clipboard. As an accountant you have to sign your name a lot. You try to keep a pretty signature when you have to sign it a couple hundred times a day. There were at least twenty names ahead of mine.

"My name's Dorcas. Some kids nowadays laugh at that name. But my ma said that it was a right fine biblical name, and it has suited me for close to seventy years. Any punk kids make fun of my name, I'll put my plastic foot in their ass. Got that, boy?"
"Yes, ma'am." That was my instinctive response to old ladies. Especially former Monster Hunters strapped with what appeared to be a.44 magnum.
"Good, go down the hall. Double door on the right. That's the cafeteria and meeting hall. Now scram.


More people gradually arrived. To pass the time I studied the others. I caught a few of them studying me back. The group was about eighty percent male, and I would guess that the average age was probably just under thirty. Most of the Newbies looked relatively fit, though surprisingly there were a few people I would call physically challenged. The group was a good cross section of America, with the biggest numbers being Caucasian, but also some Hispanics, Asians, Blacks, and a couple of people like me of indeterminate race. Don't bother to ask. My ancestors really got around.
Finally when I counted about forty others in the room, I heard a voice bellow for everybody to quiet down and take a seat. Edward Harbinger paced back and forth at the front of the cafeteria. He was wearing the same leather bomber jacket, and he had the same intense presence, as when I had first met him. Several other individuals entered and took seats behind him. I recognized Milo from the gate, and there was Juliet Shackleford. She smiled when she saw me. My heart skipped a beat.
"Hello. My name is Edward Harbinger. Many of you know me already. I'm the Director of Operations here at MHI. Welcome to our new Hunter orientation. Let's get one thing straight right off the bat. We hunt monsters. That's what we do. Every one of you has had the experience to realize that there is a lot more out there than you've been led to believe. In the coming days I would just ask for one thing. Keep your mind flexible. Don't get caught up in what you're sure is real, because if you can't believe in them, you can't fight them."
Harbinger stopped speaking just as an older gentleman limped into the room. He was tall and gaunt. A black patch covered his obviously empty left eye socket, and the skin on that side of his face looked as if it had been badly burned at some point in the distant past. He had a stainless steel hook instead of a right hand. His hair was thick and white, and had been neatly combed. He wore an obviously expensive, dark Italian suit. He walked slowly, one foot slightly dragging.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Let me introduce Raymond Shackleford, President and CEO of Monster Hunter International." Harbinger quickly sat down. Most of us started to clap politely.
The senior Shackleford shushed us and waved his hook in our general direction. "Enough of that nonsense. I ain't no politician." He paused, folded his arms behind his back almost as if he was at parade rest and proudly addressed the room. He had the air of an old Southern gentleman. The boom of his voice did not fit his frail appearance.
"Welcome to Monster Hunter International. My name is Raymond Shackleford the Third. You can call me sir, Mr. Shackleford, or Boss.

THIS UPDATE IS DEDICATED TO EVAD......MY SELF EMPLOYED P.A....
********
After telling us the history and beliefs of Mhi we all stood and clapped as he shuffled out of the room. Judging by the man's injuries and attitude, I was willing to bet that he was a man who lead from the war front. His savage appearance was sobering though, and I'm sure it made a few of the other Newbies question wanting to try monster hunting as a career.
Harbinger stood and addressed us again. "Every single person in this room was contacted after they survived some sort of monster encounter. Trust me, just surviving means that each one of you is statistically significant. We personally invited about double the number of people that you see here. Most of those decided not to come. That either makes you braver, or maybe stupider than the others." There were a few chuckles from the crowd.
"I ain't joking, people. I'm going to be flat-out honest here.What we do is dangerous, sometimes stupidly dangerous, but it is necessary, more necessary than you might even realize for reasons that you'll come to understand with time. The only way that we win is if we work together as a team and be every bit as tough and ruthless and clever as the things we're chasing.
"Many of you will wash out of training, or get kicked out if you ain't up to the stuff. That's fine, so don't get hurt feelings. This job is not for everybody. There ain't no shame in quitting. If at any time you decide that you want to quit, no problem. Talk to Dorcas, we'll write you out a check for your time and there are no hard feelings. Keep in mind, however, that if you talk about us in public, the nice men from the Monster Control Bureau, that most of you have already met, will probably kill you." Harbinger moved like a predator, eyeing the group with unnerving intensity.
"Your teachers will consist of experienced Hunters. Listen to them carefully. Read everything that you're given. Your life, or the lives of your teammates, may depend on your skill or knowledge." Harbinger pointed at the small knot of people sitting behind him. "We're not normally teachers. The folks sitting behind me are actually my personal team. I trust each of them with my life, and any of them would trust me with theirs. If any one of them decides that any one of you does not have what it takes to be a Hunter, then you're gone. That is all. Don't screw around with us. We're much better killers than we are nannies." I knew Juliet, and I had met Milo briefly, but I had no clue who the others were. One instructor had a giant mustache, looked like a cross between a cowboy and a truck driver.



"Some of you are here because you're tough, some are smart, some are warriors, some are not, it doesn't matter. Everybody will go through the same training. We recruited many of you because of your brains, and though you will probably never need to be on an actual hunting mission, you will still be trained to the same standards in weapons, tactics, and other skills. You need to understand the people you are supporting as good as you understand yourself. Those of you we recruited because you're fighters, you will need to learn every single bit of monster-related information that the smart folks learn. For those of you who think you are both smart and tough, don't get cocky because you will probably be the first one to get eaten." A few people started to laugh at that, but most of us realized that it was not meant to be funny. I was feeling rather sober and slightly intimidated.
"Training will last until we decide that you're good enough. After that you will be assigned to your duties. Some of you will be assigned to Hunter teams. We have teams stationed all around the country. Those teams respond to crises as they develop. Other people will work in direct support of the teams. We will go into greater details about how this entire thing works as training progresses. Every employee will be paid bimonthly according to your position. Any PUFF your personal team earns will be shared by the whole company, with your team getting the largest percentage. Think of it as profit sharing. That means that if your team wins a huge bounty you don't get to keep it all. Be careful not to grumble too much about that, however, because the next week it will probably be some other team that wins the big one and not you. Don't worry, though, the lowest paid employee we have probably made more than most of you did in the last year. Our business is monsters, and business is booming." He showed a lot of teeth when he smiled. It almost reminded me of when Mr. Harry was about to eat me.
"Any questions?"

e don captivate me oo! nice story.. following.

keep it up wit d long updates plsss

keep it coming, I'm loving it bobo maiki Lolz!

Due to work issues,there will be no updates till evening.(Make una nor worry,i go compensate una wit solid update 4 evening)

Evad hw fa nw?

Bookmarked.

Guy u too much,pls keep it up,we are solidly behind you

Wonderful piece bro, am ur no. 1 fan from now

still following.....

Good !

d michael: Intro;
The good,the bad and the ugly.Good,better,best.....legendary.......momma told u there was nothing like monsterz,didnt she?.......guess what............(she lied)

natgeo wild ........NYC story

Am in love with this write up!