Little Hunter

Nanku considered simply leaving but didn't.

She went back to the computer and decided to work some more. She had other leads. Other names. Some were still around on social media and in the news.

Like a Dockworker—former-named Trent Bragg. He'd been fired from the Dockworkers a month before Talyor's father died. Some sort of incident that made the news but without specifics. He didn't come up in the police investigation but she'd heard some of the men she talked to mention a guy in passing who got in trouble for gang stuff.

Trent fit the timeline. He hadn't been a Dockworker long.

Danny Hebert as the head of hiring would have been the one to fire him.

Maybe he took revenge. Or maybe the men he'd been working for did it because Danny figured something out about them.

Then they killed him.

After he was fired, Trent Bragg went on to work in clubs. Bar tending. Bouncing. A big man with muscles and a stupid smile. He made videos about drink mixing that people apparently liked.

Some of the oldest pictures on his account went back more than ten years.

Asian bars. Trent Bragg didn't look Asian, but he'd hung in those circles apparently. Maybe he'd been associated with the ABB. They were a gang back in the day and one big in the Docks.

She had her lead on Qualicare.

But that was a complex lead to follow. She could focus on Trent Bragg for now. He still lived in Brockton Bay. Nanku even found a new way to use social media.

Every picture was a clue. The names of shops, streets, and businesses were tracks. She combed through Trent Bragg's images and searched every name. Not all were in Brockton Bay but most were. Some he went to more frequently than others.

It was tedious work, but eventually, Nanku had a radius of his range. He likely lived somewhere in the area and would most frequently be found there. Some places he went to more than others. Clubs mostly. He seemed to work at some, but not consistently. A mercenary of some sort.

The hunt wasn't so different, Nanku realized.

He had a territory and a range. Waterholes and dens he frequented.

Nanku could track this prey. Pin him down. Ask him some more pointed questions.

Who knew. Maybe Trent Bragg knew where to find James Fliescher. She'd gotten lucky already. Never test fortune, but never turn it down.

Nanku set the information she'd gathered aside and checked other options. The man who killed himself for one. A young boy. College aged. He only worked at the Dockworkers for money. The articles didn't mention specifics. Only that his death came after Danny Hebert's, framed as a dual tragedy.

Every article talked around or speculated the reasons he killed himself. What Nanku heard made it sound like he was guilt-ridden. Why? Why would he feel guilty solely because he reported the shipment? A shipment everyone insisted was just a misunderstanding.

Benny Young still had a social media account. His family seemed to use it like a shrine, leaving comments or posting family photos on the anniversary of his death eleven years and counting. Nanku looked through the…

She tilted her head.

Hire of the Year said the plaque he was holding.

Danny Hebert stood beside him, a proud smile on his face. The photo was colorful and bright with the shadows of others in the image.

Nanku looked at her father's face. Traced the lines of age with her eyes. The shape of his eyes were like hers. She'd never noticed.

"Done yet?" Bitch asked as she approached.

Nanku closed the page before Bitch could see. "Are the cartoons over?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm done." Nanku rose. "How do I find a cape outside of Brockton Bay?"

Bitch glanced over. "Why?"

"Because I don't know how."

It was the one thing she couldn't find.

James Fliescher was outed like the rest of the Empire 88. Unlike many of them, he vanished after Leviathan and didn't return with the Pure. Since then he'd vanished from the public eye, or at least news reporting. Maybe he was dead, but Nanku didn't think so.

His power was troublesome but should keep him alive.

She only needed a way to find him.

"Bad idea," Rachel said.

"What idea?"

"That idea. Haven't been too stupid yet. Don't start."

"I only want to talk to him."

"Hunters don't lie."

"I can just talk to him."

"You won't."

"He won't let me."

Probably.

Nanku hadn't exactly set out to spare the Nazis, but the Nazis were… Nazis. James might have murdered Jonathan. It made a disturbing amount of sense. Maybe he was a good man. Decent. Discovered something his brother was doing and was killed for it.

Or maybe something else.

No matter.

James Fliescher had been the official CEO of Qualicare.

Qualicare transported the eggs.

Qualicare lost the eggs.

Everything that happened at the camp, all those deaths. All the deaths that followed when her mother tried to avenge Taylor Hebert's death.

It was all their fault.

And someone had to pay for the dead…

So all those faces could finally rest their spirits and stop tormenting her dreams.

Maybe she'd get lucky.

Maybe it was James Fliescher who had to pay.

"Won't fix anything." Bitch frowned, eyes lidded. "Dead are still dead. Won't feel any better after it's done."

Nanku scoffed. "If you say so."

"I do."

The two words were heavy. Nanku glanced from the corner of her eyes, but the woman said nothing.

They descended the steps of the library in silence. Angelica trotted along beside Bitch and Nanku did a quick sweep of the surrounding block. There was another police car but like the last, they paid her no mind. Just a standard patrol.

"Which one?" Bitch asked in a plain and tired tone.

Nanku watched her face. "Krieg."

Her reaction was no reaction at all.

They proceeded along the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Angelica trotted happily, tongue out and tail switching left and right. Nanku was in too good a mood to let Bitch's dourness affect her. The street was loud and smelling, but oddly peaceful. Humans young and old walking about their business. Cars driving by in a steady stream. The sun was nestled in some clouds but not enough to obscure its light.

It was… nice.

"Which one?" Bitch asked again as they stopped to wait.

"I told you."

"Not that one."

Nanku frowned.

Ah.

She meant, "The camp. He was the CEO of the company Pe'dte was following. He has to know something about what happened."

"Does he?"

"He was—"

"Lisa is boss of everything." Bitch looked Nanku in the eye. "She know everything?"

Nanku's frown became a scowl as the bus approached.

"Why do you care?" Nanku asked. "So what if he knows nothing? He's a bad blood. To the Black Warrior with him."

"Don't give a shit about him," Bitch said. "Fuck'um."

"Then wh—"

"Won't make it better," Bitch said once again, her voice dull and her eyes plain. "No point in it."

Justice.

A human concept. The Yautja had no sense of justice. There was the code, and what was proper for a true hunt. But those who broke those rules and expectations didn't meet justice. A bad blood who caused trouble could only be killed and their death wasn't about righting wrongs or punishing evildoers.

It was about protecting life when they recklessly endangered it. Like when they unleashed R'ka with no sense of propriety or containment.

…

But that wasn't why Nanku had to find the answer and kill it. She was human. Part of her, at least. A piece of Taylor that was still there and that Nanku didn't want anymore. Taylor's spirit needed satisfaction.

"Justice is the point," Nanku declared as the bus drove through the city.

"You're making revenge," Bitch replied.

Justice. Revenge. Same thing as far as Nanku could tell. "You took revenge."

"Yes."

"Those men were killing dogs. Making them fight."

"Yes."

"It was cruel."

"Yes."

"So—"

"There another camp about to die?"

Nanku straightened.

Bitch scratched Angelica behind the ears and stared at the window.

"Justice," she mumbled. "Just a word."

Her hand stilled and she looked Nanku in the eye.

"They killed dogs, and they'd keep killing dogs. Keep threatening our territory. Keep selling drugs. Keep trying to kill us, or Weaver, or others. Fuck'um. They picked the fight. We finished it."

"Then—"

"Not protecting anyone," Bitch continued. "Not protecting anything. Going after him to make you feel better."

The bus creaked to a stop and Bitch rose.

"Waste of time. You won't feel better. Nothing to protect. Nothing to save. No justice. Just murder."

"No diff—"

"Those dogs were still alive. Your mom and sister are alive. Fuck anyone who wants to change that."

Nanku glanced at the window.

This wasn't her stop. They weren't even near the kennel.

Bitch stormed off the bus with Angelica and went onto the street. Nanku continued to sit as the vehicle started and continued along its route. Her gait was stiff and angry. She didn't look back. Not even after the bus crossed the intersection and left sight.

What was that about?

Protecting the dogs. Her mother and Rose. She didn't mind that. Bitch didn't even seem to care about killing the Pure that much. Her own qualm with it seemed to be getting the local enforcers paying Nanku attention and chasing her.

Nanku did kill the Pure. What did another dead Nazi matt—

Protect.

Bitch was smarter than she got credit for. She knew what words meant and she knew how to use them. Maybe she wasn't dumb at all. What use did a smart person have to babble on and on and on when a single word was enough to make all the difference?

Justice was just a word.

All there really was, was protection and revenge.

For a human who didn't even know they existed, Bitch sure could think like a hunter.

Nanku slouched in her seat.

Didn't matter.

Bitch admitted it herself. She'd taken revenge before.

Nanku never heard her have any nightmares.

Sarah leaned toward the screen and grinned.

"What is that?"

The file was buried deep. She'd have to go through a lot of old records and shared drives and folders. A lot of it was the laziest digitization project ever. Just folders and files and more folders and files all stuffed on some dusty corner of the network where it was copied along with each new update but never purged.

Well, maybe some of it was lost. Sarah did see a few holes in whatever the hell it was she'd found.

The video played out in a terrible resolution. Cameras had come a long way and Sarah never appreciated it more.

Still. Even with the screen too dark and the resolution piss poor, Sarah was intrigued.

Did Gesellschaft even remember they had this? From what she could find virtually everyone involved had been killed ten years ago save a few. Max Anders' name was on some forms and papers but even he was dead now.

If they didn't know, she might just be able to get away with her.

Her scheme was in desperate need of a bang after all.

Something for the closing of the curtain.

Sarah glanced at the ground under her shrunken unusable legs and smiled warmly at the rolling mist.

It certainly took them long enough.

"Fog. So glad you decided to come."

With the press of a button, one of the screens in front of her became reflective.

Night glared down her nose, her skin pale as snow and her hair dark. Starting to gray a bit, actually.

"Sorry," Sarah offered. "So hard to hold a conversation with… That thing you do. Feel free to smash the mirror and eviscerate me if you want."

"No need," Night replied.

The fog on the ground rose slowly, wafting up and enveloping the room.

"Sorry about the dirt." Sarah waved a hand. "I don't exactly have money for janitorial staff."

"Aster," Night said. "Get her out."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Sarah turned her chair around, exposing her misshapen body. Too long and thin on top, and with limp useless twig legs on the bottom. "Lovely as I am, I don't get out much myself. Not exactly rescue material."

"Die then."

Night stepped back and the fog rose higher.

"You think you can bust Aster out on your own?" Sarah laughed. "Please. You wouldn't even help her when she asked."

"She didn't," Night said pointedly.

Her voice was dull and monotone, but she could convey some real rage when she wanted to. And she was angry. Furious. At Sarah in particular.

Promised Kayden. Believed in her ability to keep her promise.

"Fair enough," Sarah conceded. "I pulled her strings, but let's be fair. You let her go. You know how you are Night. You're not fit to raise a child, let alone raise them the way Kayden hoped to."

Such a bizarre mess of a woman. Unable to escape her prejudices, unable to walk away from a man who used her. Dedicated to trying to personally raise her child to be better. Sarah wondered how she reconciled that, or how she managed to think Night was a viable choice to protect Aster if she died.

"You let me lead her off by the nose," Sarah continued. "Don't act all innocent now."

"You're worse than her."

She clearly didn't know Lisa very well.

"Does being annoyed about it get you any closer to getting Aster out?"

Sarah activated another display and showed the Rig. It was, to be fair, a real fortress. The location was awkward. Getting in undetected would be hard. Getting out and escaping—with her charge safely in tow—would be harder.

"Think you can get her out on your own? I should warn you. Weaver can shut you down. Oh, wait. You already learned that about her? Man that must be inconvenient."

Sarah turned away.

"So go ahead and blame me if it makes you feel better, but you can't get Aster back on your own."

"Thinker."

"Does that make it a lie?"

Night's normally placid expression flinched.

"Would you like some help?" Sarah smiled. "Not that you or Fog are anything to scoff at, but you have your shortcomings."

"I will kill you," Night replied.

"But?"

"But not today."

Her fist slammed into the mirror-monitor and shattered the glass. There was a platter of blood and bone from broken pale skin. The bloody hand pulled back and the fog on the floor took the shape of a pale man with messy dark hair.

Fog glowered at Sarah.

He wore murder far more openly than his wife.

"Where is Aster?"

Sarah had to admit.

It was beautiful when a plan came together.