Defc0n
Special Agent in the field of Occult Studies Cl¥de O'Donnell stood at a sharp attention in the center of the council's chamber. The room was small and well lit allowing every detail of the room and it's occupants to be clearly seen. Against the far wall was a raised desk built into the marble chamber. The desk was raised and sat three, all of the seats were filled. In the center seat was a man Cl¥de knew only as The Commander. He was a formidable man but Cl¥de had never seen him in the field, while the man had his trust he didn't intend to let him know any time soon. To the man's right was a large bald man that Cl¥de had never seen before. New men were never good signs. To the left was Cl¥de's personal commander, Cl¥de knew him as Sir. Sir had Cl¥de's complete trust, he knew.
Cl¥de stood rigid with his feet touching at the heels and spread at an exact forty-five degree angle. His hands were tightly balled and his thumbs were perfectly aligned with the seam of his uniform trousers. His arms were pinned perfectly at his sides and his eyes stared straight ahead, face showing no emotion. He wore standard Service Dress Blue, and was the pinnacle of perfection. His shoes were perfectly shined and pants perfectly pressed. His coat was clean and crisp. Cl¥de's numerous ribbons were pined exactially one quarter inch above his left jacket pocket and nametag, bearing a bold "O'Donnell" was perfectly parallel to the ribbons. He wore no rank, if he did it would be that of a Master Chief Petty Officer, E8, Cl¥de's pay grade. Cl¥de's mind however was not nearly as rigid or unwavering as years of practice had taught his body how to be. His thoughts still dwelled on the previous night.
Once the grenade had detonated the ancient building's structural integrity came into question. Apparently the ancient ancestors of the now dead cultists had not counted on heavy munitions being used inside the building. Within moments the building began to collapse around him and Cl¥de was forced to run for cover. Sprinting through the trembling corridors Cl¥de met minimal resistance. Those fool enough not to flee for their lives were left to face Cl¥de's expert marksmanship. Most fell easily and those that didn't fled, they were the smart ones. Others however seemed bent on stopping the intruder. These combatants were armed with powerful weaponry, the likes of which Cl¥de had never seen. Green blasts flashed off the walls and floor tearing mini-craters in the stone. Cl¥de dodged, and rolled, his opponents never standing a chance. Within moments the corridors were again clear and he continued to move. Finally Cl¥de reached the facility's entrance, in this case however it would be the perfect exit. Pulling another grenade from his vest Cl¥de let it fly at the massive stone door blocking his path. Within moments a fair size hole was blown through the door. The first light that Cl¥de had seen in hours filtered through, almost there. Years ago that light would have been the death of him, but now, now that his medication finally worked, the light was just that, light. Dashing forward, dodging falling rubble along the way, Cl¥de smashed square through the door and burst out into the hot New Mexico air. Spread before him was a murky pool glowing blue-green in the morning light. Even now, in broad daylight it was creepy. Suddenly came a massive crash from behind him. Dust and rubble flew through the air as the ancient facility collapsed into the hillside it was built into. Cl¥de set off his pick up signal, his ride would be here shortly.
"Ahem" Sir cleared his throat, jolting Cl¥de's mind back into reality. He did all but blink to show his attention had returned. "Your performance last night was excellent, to say the least, however some details were a bit, well, disturbing. The man you 'spoke' with is as of yet unidentified, however the 'Hunts Klan' he spoke of sheds some incredible light on resent events."
"We believed they were a long dead organization, it seems that we were wrong" added The Commander. He was clueless to their true nature. Cl¥de knew, he had fought them before.
"Yes, apparently we were. Our techs have brought up all the available information, it is not much but we transferred it to your eyescreen for your own viewing 'pleasure'. For this briefing however we found it necessary for you to receive a brief history."
"As if I need it" Cl¥de thought
"Mr. Cullman," at this Sir gestured to the bald man at the other end of the desk "is a former 'member' and has provided us with some 'insight'". Cl¥de tensed, his first visible outward movement since he entered the room. Here in his presence, a member of the Hunts Klan, enough to make Cl¥de's blood boil.
"I thought they killed defectors" Cl¥de said, and after a pause "and traitors"
"They do, I was fortunate enough escape their retribution" said Cullman "now the 'activity' you interfered with last night, it was no summoning ceremony as you might have thought. Its purpose was to prepare for a hunt."
"Who knows what may have happened if you hadn't intervened" interrupted Sir.
"Not necessarily" added Cullman "there would have been no effects on the public at large. You see the Hunts Klan specalises in the hunting of mag—
"I don't care what they 'specialize' in Mr. Cullman, tell me where they operate and tell me how to 'Neutralize' their threat on society" Sir again interrupted.
"The current Base of Operations is in New York, but—"
"Well Cl¥de, looks like you are goin' on a road trip" Added The Commander.
Cl¥de shot up a salute, turned and walked straight from the room. The Hunts Klan was back, and so was Cl¥de. He headed to his quarters, he would need some sleep, his ancestors were nocturnal, he wasn't.