The Barret Commission: The Legacy of Power

"Look, I don't know how many times we have to go over this!" Unger said, as Powell slid the conditions for the buyout across his large executive's desk. "My employer will not agree to the terms of this buyout, your terms are far too high!"

"That's funny, I thought he was your master," Powell said, leaning back in his chair, Unger staring at Powell for a second, trying to comprehend what he just heard.

"I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken-" Unger had started to say, before Powell held up a hand to stop him.

"No, I know about your master," Powell said, leaning forward again, getting up and walking around the desk slowly, doing his best to drag the meeting out. "You became part of his slave horde seven years ago, as you and your sister decided to indulge in a little rebellion against your father." Shaking his head, Powell put a hand on Unger's shoulder. "You didn't realize just what he would do, did you?"

"You can't prove anything," Unger said, almost growling. "No court will convict me for serving something that doesn't exist!"

"Well, you see, we're not bringing this to any court," Powell said, going to the window to stare outside at the other skyscrapers, where quite a few of his allies worked. Glass fortresses guarded by cameras and computers alongside men and their will. "You will sign his companies over to mine, and then you will walk out."

Before Unger could argue, his phone rang. Looking at the reflection in the glass, Powell let himself smile as Unger's expression shifted from contempt to fear. Shakily putting the phone in his pocket, he grabbed at the nearest pen and hastily signed the papers, before grabbing his things and running out.

Calmly, Powell went to his own phone and dialed his ally on the street. "He's leaving. Have the car ready."

"Waiting now," his ally said. Hanging up, Powell sat down and picked up the document. Looking at the companies now the the Commission's pocket, he thought about just how random life could be sometimes. After all, no one expects a car accident.

The Bear Lodge: The Most Dangerous Hunt

I ran harder that night than I ever had in my life. I barely felt the branches scratch my face, or the rocks stub my toes even through the steel tips of my boots. The blood from my friend still stained my clothes and face, but I kept reminding myself he'd been the moron who didn't know when to run like an intelligent hunter.

The snarls and howls still sounded in the distance, and I wasn't too interested in seeing the sources again. It was supposed to have been a simple hunt, track the wolf to it's den and burn it to the ground, forcing it to either burn or be on the receiving end of some high speed siver slugs. When my buddy saw the other wolves, though, he didn't realize we couldn't make a dent without killing ourselves, he started popping rounds off like it didn't matter. I'd tried to drag him back, but he didn't listen, he just stood there as I ran, and I heard his screams half a second later.

If it weren't for the snares and pit traps we'd set up a few days earlier, I might not have made it back to the truck where the others were waiting. As I tried to regain my breath, they opened fire into the woods, and the wolves retreated, howling into the night.

As we rode back, they reminded me that it wasn't my fault Jerry started going nuts like that. He made his choice, and I made mine, that was all that mattered. I was alive, and I could carry on the hunt.

Then, that night, I'd had it all wiped from my memory again. If it weren't for the video tape and scars in the mirror, I wouldn't have known at all. Quickly, I set about making funeral arrangements. He may have frozen, but Jerry was a damn good hunter. And I'd make sure to organize a memorial hunt after that. It's the kind of thing a hunter like Jerry would want.

Night Watch: The Street Warriors

"Damn hot," Tyreke said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it on the closest flame. "Anyone come out?"

"None of'em," Maurice said, watching as the warehouse burned. The other members of their cell kept the curious clear, and kept a lookout for the police. "Figured maybe it's better to die than get arrested?"

"Who cares, as long as the leech is dead," Tyreke said. Finding out about the warehouse hadn't been hard, but actually getting past the guards and getting the gas around the base of the building had been. Especially with ghouls and lesser vampires coming out to try and stop them. Jamal was still bleeding, and Shawntel had been lost.

Suddenly, an ear piercing shriek came from the warehouse, and a billowing black cloud separated from the smoke. Bringing up their guns, they fired into the smoke, only for two clawed hands to appear and slam them into the ground, choking the life out of them. "You little ghetto rats!" the vampire screamed, the smoke reforming into an ancient looking crone with pale skin and countless wrinkles. "You will not defeat your queen!"

A quick gunshot later, and a stake was forced into her heart. Pulling the crone's hands away, Tyreke and Maurice saw Jamal standing over the leech, holding his customized shotgun that could fire stakes. "We done now?" he asked, holding his bandaged arm.

"We done," Tyreke said, the three running as the sirens approached.

The Talbot Group: The Redeemers

"I'm not doing it, Steve," Kevin said, pacing around the room. "I'm afraid I'm gonna hurt you, and I don't wanna hurt anyone anymore!"

Steven nodded, every word being recorded on his computer. "I know, Kevin. But we can't move forward with your treatment if we don't help you keep your disability under control."

Kevin squirmed a little, eyes darting around the room. "But if it happens here-"

"Everyone here has been trained in what to do, Kevin," Steve said, putting a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "I won't force you, but you have to make the conscious decision to move forward on your own."

Kevin just stood there for a minute before nodding his head. "Okay, Steve, I'm ready."

Nodding, Steven took out the jar he kept in his desk, containing a spirit that was apparently none too fond of werewolves, and vice versa. "Now remember, the second you feel you're losing control, let me know, okay?" he said, starting a small stopwatch.

Nodding, Kevin felt his eyes drawn to the jar, watching the spirit inside dancing around, daring Kevin to attack, to kill both it and the human that brought it out. Watching, Steve watched as the boy's arms started to grow and shift, his eyes changing colors. Hair started to sprout in heavy patches. Calmly, Steve just said, "It's okay, Kevin. I know you can do it."

Then, Kevin calmed his breathing. The hair on his arms started to recede. His eyes returned to their usual green, his enlarged teeth shrinking again. Panting, he collapsed backwards, Steven shoving the jar back into his drawer. "That's it, Kevin!" Steve shouted, hugging Kevin. "You did it, you're beating it back!"

"Thanks…Steve…" Kevin said, amazed that he was starting to control himself. "Could I…maybe…go back home now?"

"Soon enough, Kevin," Steve said. "Just as soon as we make it the rest of the way, I'll take you myself," Steve said, taking Kevin out to get some lunch.

Division Six: The Consensus

"Seven-A, target is on the move, standby," the radio squawked, as Seven-A and Seven-B tracked the reality deviant walk through the apartment.

"Roger, Seven-C, standing by." Taking a quick sip of his coffee, Seven-A watched as the deviant gathered up it's books and gear, the many methods of destroying all of existence.

"We couldn't just point the cops their way?" Seven-B growled, shifting in his seat on the sidewalk café. "All the drugs he probably has in there, it's more than enough to put him away for years."

"Because he'd be able to convince the police it wouldn't work," Seven-A answered. Sometimes, she just wanted to smack the rookie upside the head if it weren't for the fact he was so good with explosives. "Now get ready, he's coming."

Walking down the stairs of the apartment, the deviant was dressed immaculately in a pressed suit and clean tie. Walking towards his car, he got in without issue, and they heard the engine start to turn over. Nothing happened.

"What's happening!" Seven-A shouted, nearly going for her weapon. Seven-B grabbed her arm, and held her back.

"Wait for it," he said, as the car shifted into gear.

The explosion rocked the car, the fireball shooting straight up, the people nearby screaming in terror. "He might've been shielded thinking that it would ignite on ignition. I decided to wait until it was put into gear."

"Clever," Seven-A said, getting up. "Let's get outta here, I never liked café food anyway."

Vanguard Serial Crimes Unit: VASCU

"You know you can't hold me," the man said, smiling through his mask. "You don't have the evidence to prove I murdered those people three nights ago. You're looking at a copycat, Agent Raymond, nothing more, but so much less."

Raymond shot a small look at the window before pressing on. "And I say I'm convinced you're guilty as sin," he countered, trying to keep up the bluff. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't. All Raymond knew was that Sharon needed time to work through the killer's history. "Who else could've positioned all the limbs in the exact position as all the others?"

"Maybe VASCU isn't as pure as you'd like to think," the killer said, his face blank.

"I've got it!" Hwang's voice suddenly said in Raymond's head. "He took Officer Callahan's kids hostage, he's holding them until he's released, I've already gotten the address."

Nodding, Raymond rose from his table. "Well, sir, I've had fun, but I think your time is up."

"What are you talking about?" the killer said, shocked. "How can you even convict me-"

"Of those murders? Wait until we add kidnapping to the list of charges." With a smile of his own, Raymond knocked on the door, uniforms leading the killer back to his cell. Raymond had other concerns. Three more lives needed to be saved.

So I've discovered Hunter: The Vigil. To all you monster players, I say "F your vamps!"

To all you hunters out there, I salute you!