Hector was an orphan. Regardless of anything else, this is what he thought everyone saw first when they looked at him. The half dozen fine scars across his face from the shattered glass complimenting the long, ugly, ragged one that ran the length of his forearm from when the bones had to be repaired, metal rods crisscrossing here and there to hold them together until mended. He gratefully remembered precious little of the accident. Only a few brief flashes of the bite of glass, the scream of metal as it was forcefully bent and reshaped, his mother's cry and the vain way his father's arm had flown across her chest to try and shield her from the impact.
Neither had battled grimms before, but everyone said it was a miracle Hector had even survived, let alone with as little damage as the then child of four had sustained. One eye witness even claimed that after initial impact both his mother and father had projected their auras about him, like a protective cocoon before the car entered the series of rolls that would launch it over the bridge. Hector chose to believe this account, one of the only real comforts he had about his childhood was the knowledge that his parents had loved him.
Not that he grew up without love, on the contrary, he was loved immensely by his uncle, the retired military general. This love however was tempered with a strict parenting style and a healthy instillment of responsibility and guilt. Or so his uncle liked to say whenever he had friends over. Why guilt was considered a healthy part of living Hector would never know though he didn't feel it quite as strongly as he supposed he should, he just assumed it was a military thing.
Despite his uncle's gruff exterior he had seen the man cry and listened to him whisper "I love you," when peeking in on Hector from the bedroom door every night since arriving in his home. The youth who was broad shouldered walked through the crowded byways intent on reaching his final destination, a fond grin tracing his lips. Growing up in the house he had, he had always known that he would either be expected to follow a military career, or that of a Huntsmen. Ridiculous and vain as it may seem Hector was far too attached to his long auburn hair kept in a loose ponytail, to see it all shaved away in basic training, so Huntsmen it was.
He was sliding past a group of boys his own age when a strong hand on his shoulder stopped him. Hector turned and saw the warm face of the man who had raised him. They looked at each other for a moment neither sure of what to say. "You're going to do wonders." the grizzled man said from behind his half moon glasses.
Hector smiled and gave a curt nod. "I'll write." he assured. Neither could drop their macho facade enough to embrace but they shared a laugh as each realized the dilemma at the same moment, and clapped one another on the back instead.
In his black jeans, white tee and bright hansa yellow leather jacket, spirits soaring Hector walked on. He had just about reached the terminal when he was halted again by another hand on his shoulder. "Whoa, are those hammers?" came an affable voice behind him. Hector turned and saw a fellow first year boy behind him with bright purple hair.
"Um, yeah." Hector grinned unconsciously touching the weapons named Justice and Freedom which rested in holsters at either hip. Not the most clever of names, but things he intended to hammer out for himself and others, every pun intended. "They turn into compact semiautomatics, lighter than air." he added eyeing sword the other boy possessed.
"You any good with them?" purple hair asked.
Hector snorted a laugh, "Oh yeah."
Hector's uncle believed in doing, and if his nephew was going to be a Huntsmen, he would be doing just that, hunting. Regardless of how many tests or exams he passed, or the state of his grades, to the silver eyed man there was no better teacher than life and all the experiences that life has to offer. So it was that Hector had been sent to muck about in the dead of night searching for the ursa said to have been seen nosing about the edge of town, his uncle dropping him off with a pat on the back and a "good luck."
It was dark, and cool, an east wind ripping through the long grass fitfully. What a night for monster hunting. After trekking through the grasslands and weaving his way through a standing of trees while the moon rose first high over head before descending to hang just behind him, the boy had wondered if this was just another of the uncle's drills. He had been at it for hours with nothing to show fir it, and threw a rock dismally into the distance, hearing a roar when he should have heard a thud as it hit ground. He grinned, Justice and Freedom fast at hand. The ursa burst through the trees all vengeance and fury. Lifting the weapons high over his head Hector fell to his knees and brought them back down again, striking the ground with earth shattering consequence.
The bear like creature struggled to maintain it's footing as the ground split. While it was unbalanced Hector attacked bringing both hammers first across one side of the savage beast's head then the other. Although the blows were mighty and something had cracked they seemed to serve little purpose other than to rile the monster and piss it off. With one bat of it's paw the ursa sent Hector sailing, crashing through trees. Getting to his feet he juggled the devices, hitting switches and turning knobs designed for single hand operation turning them into compact semis.
When the ursa broke through the surrounding trees this time he riddled it shots. The ursa roared swiping was razor claws paw at him. Ducking into a roll the Huntsmen in training evaded before leaping up and sending out another volley of gunfire. The ursa fell. Returning Justice to it's original state Hector approached the creature with hate blazing in it's soulless eyes as it tried to rise, he leveled Freedom's muzzle at it's head, just in case. Flipping the hammer around artfully he plunged the pointed, pick end of the weapon into the ursa's brain, ending it.
Hector blinked as the memory dissipated. He smiled up at purple hair. "I'm the best there is!"