(A\N: Hello all! This is my first official long term project, and I hope to hone my writing with it. Quality may be lacking, and I accept that. All I ask is honest criticism and your eternal servitude (sign here). Enjoy!)

Cherry Springs, CT

January 27th, 2001

The night was quiet over the town of Cherry Springs, Connecticut. The light sea breeze carried the earthy scent of wet earth towards the sea, the few denizens awake either in their homes or taking a moonlit stroll on the beach. A young couple in a secluded part of the beach were enjoying each other's company, about to take things further, when a new presence made itself known.

The wind abruptly cut off, and just as quickly as the breeze had stopped, another took its place, growing quickly into a gale, arcing upward and tearing at the detritus strewn along the beach. Dust and plastic began to swirl at a fixed point above the couple, already up and running from the strange phenomena. Most people had heard of capes and what they could do, and no one would chance a close encounter with someone who could flip a car with the barest of strength or shoot lasers from their hands. A cerulean glow burst into existence from the growing maelstrom, eventually growing to thirty, forty, fifty feet in diameter.

A roaring, draconic figure flew from the portal's maw, thrashing through the air and steaming blood pouring from several wounds along its body. The portal dissipated, the red dragon flying haphazardly towards the city proper. A shadowy figure climbed along the dragon's spines, driving a large blade into the dragon's hide along its ascent…

"WHY!"

Stab, climb.

"DOES!"
Stab, climb.

"THIS!"

Stab, climb.

"ALWAYS!"

Stab, climb.

"HAPPEN!"

Stab, stab, stab, climb.
"TO ME!"

Shouts of frustration made their way from the armored figure upon the red dragon's back. A muttering of expletives in many languages were heard, the grumpy Palico holding on for dear life nearby giving a call of "Language, meowster!" as they both made their way along the back of the Safi'Jiva.

A two hour long hunt had already been going to shit, with their hunting horn falling on the onset of the encounter and their twinblade fleeing soon after. The gunlance had made several valiant attempts at heroics, and lasted a long time, until he fell from a tail sweep in his blind spot. Now, it was up to the last hunter to take down the dragon menacing the innocent people of Western Schrade. Except, just as he was about to follow the twinblade's lead, his slinger got stuck in its tail and left him to the whims of the beast. At least now, the Hunter could sympathize with those Kamura hunters during wirebug training. Of course, his day, as per usual, got worse.

Now, he found himself tumbling out of the air as his last stab into the beast had severed the tendon connecting the left wing to the shoulder of the beast. He had exactly three seconds before he and the beast impacted the ground, and all he could think of was I can't believe I didn't get to have breakfast before I die.

Fate, it would seem, did not want him to die that day.

As the dragon hit the ground, the impact forced the cable of the slinger claw to split from the middle, the retraction mechanism snapping into the gauntlet hard enough to throw him off balance and away from the collapsed beast. He took the movement in stride, the experience of a thousand hunts and more honing his muscle memory into a perfect roll leading to a standing position, his sword and shield held ready for the beast's next onslaught.

The Safi'Jiva took to its feet slowly, unsteady from pain and blood loss. While it had managed to take down three of the Guild's best, the hunters had gotten their own share of damage in. It limped on its right foreleg, the opposite wing limp on the ground. The dragon bled from many cuts and and scrapes along its body, the deeper ones spurting boiling blood. A blue glow emanated from under its scales, healing some of the damage before flickering out, its bioenergy stores nearly depleted.

The Hunter closed in, ducking under the Safi's clamping jaws and leaving a long cut under its neck, deftly weaving his way under the dragon slicing at leg joints, stabbing chinks in the armor of the scaled torso, and giving a final stab into its left rear knee. The beast kicked him back, the hunter's iron grip on his sword the only thing keeping it in his hands. He'd learned long ago not to use the retention strap some young hunters favored in order not to lose their weapons during a hunt. The Hunter fell hard to the ground, his armor absorbing most of the impact, quickly righting himself with the help of his Palico to continue the assault.

The Safi'Jiva turned to him, driving a paw into the ground in its move to absorb the surrounding bioenergy, either to charge its broad or focused beam. The hunter began to look for suitable cover, only now noticing the very urban city square he found himself in. However, he smirked and found the practice unnecessary as the beast slammed its paw into the ground several more times, no blue glow seeping through the earth into the dragon with each attempt at a charge-up.

"All outta juice, aren't you?" the Hunter remarked, a fire lighting in his chest as he realized the hunt was almost over, the dragon exhausted and out of bioenergy. He barked a command to Mjurgen, who swiftly pulled out one of his signature overfilled bombs. The Hunter dashed for the dragon's head and began to shout, making several shallow cuts into its snout. The beast snapped at the Hunter repeatedly, the man blocking or dodging each strike. While enraging an elder dragon in close range was a bad idea in every scenario, a rage the hunter had been the unfortunate target of more times than he'd care to admit, he had a plan.

Eventually, the hunter's luck ran out, and the dragon's jaws clamped tight around his shield. The Safi'Jiva jerked its head away and tossed aside the shield, the breakaway strap saving the hunter's arm, even though it felt as if the General had just challenged him to a solo tug of war. The Hunter stumbled back, watching as the dragon raised its good arm in order to slam him into a pulp.

"Any time now, Mjurgen!" the Hunter shouted as he threw himself to the side in a sloppy dodge, falling hard to the ground and bruising his ribs further. In fact, the Hunter suspected he already had a few cracked ribs, but what's a few more?

"Eat this, motherfluffer!" came a heavily accented and high-pitched voice, the sound of hissing and the smell of burnt flesh coming from a large gash in the Safi'Jiva's neck.

With an earsplitting roar, a plume of orange and red flame burst from the cut, viscera from the explosion coating the Hunter in chunks of meat and a spray of boiling blood covering the Hunter almost from head to toe. He watched in tired satisfaction as the rest of the dragon slumped over like a puppet with its strings cut, the head nearly severed from the blasted stump of its neck, a bare few flaps of muscle and skin keeping it attached.

The Hunter sat down hard on the black stone that made up this village's street and lifted the visor on his armor, reminiscent of the knights of old with a large blue overcoat, torn in many places and stained almost completely red thanks to the semi-headless monster next to him, pulling an energy drink from his belt and taking a long, savory draught. The Hunter wiped his mouth and tossed the bottle to the side, the hardened glass clinking against the stone. The drink filled his limbs with much-needed stamina, driving away the tiredness that had crept in during his hunt. He reflected on the whole thing, getting his hunting journal out by instinct, and began to write his report. About halfway through the report, he paused, setting his pencil down as the last few hours' events caught up with him.

He sighed and stood up to take in his surroundings, the town's square unfamiliar in every sense. It was urban, incredibly so. The architecture resembled some of the ancient ruins he'd explored in the past, if a little less overgrown here. Several building lights were on, yet he saw no torch or hearth to light them. There were metal boxes with wheels placed around the edges of the black stone paths, their purpose unknown to the man quickly realizing he was out of place, and quite possibly out of time. A sound of billowing cloth came from behind him, the hunter's danger instincts screaming as he whipped about, bringing his sword to bear.

If the stranded hunter had any doubts he was still in his world, they shattered as he gazed upon a flying black figure, a cape billowing out from behind her.

The Boardwalk, Brockton Bay

December 5th, 2011

A brisk winter sea breeze sliced through my coat, a shiver running down my spine as I beheld the vast expanse of the northern Atlantic. A brief touch of my power, and warmth surrounded my body. And yet, I didn't mind the cold otherwise. In a more abstract sense, the same could be said for the rest of Brockton Bay. Several gunshots cracked in the distance, a sign of the gang violence rife within the city. Some would call it hell, and they wouldn't be wrong in thinking that.

For us, it was Tuesday.

I felt a nudge from my right, a dark-skinned and similarly coated figure gesturing it was time to leave.

"Already? I wanted to watch some more," I whined, following along as Andre walked us back to the others.

"He's not out there. You know it, I know it. C'mon, I think Jaiden's about to win the claw machine," Andre replied, half dragging me back to the carnival area. Of course, it was less carnival and more semi-permanent prize booths. With the largest population of capes per capita in the U.S., the assortment of claw machines, balloon popping, and goldfish stands were staples for selling merch.

At one of the claw machines, two figures huddled next to each other, a shorter, feminine figure handling the claw's controls and the other frantically cheering her on as he guided her in from the windows of the machine. Approaching the two, I saw they were trying to get a Monster Hunter plush, one of the last ones in the machine. Ever since the hero had literally dropped out of the sky ten years ago, he'd made quite a name for himself. My parents had even once said he'd come to Brockton Bay to cool down tempers between the old Empire and Marquis before he got birdcaged. For someone who was supposedly unpowered, his knightly regalia and cute companion made for excellent marketing points.

"Almost… almost… damnit!" Jaiden shouted, her frustration apparent from the dent she left in the panel of the machine, the plush falling just next to the prize hole after she'd grabbed it. "Thing's rigged, I swear," she said, muttering a quiet curse under her breath.

"Hardly appropriate language for one of Arcadia's best and brightest," I chided, playfully putting her in a headlock. "'Sides, I don't think we should be putting dents in things outside of you-know-what."

"Shove it, I almost had it. And I'm only barely honor roll, you-"

"Language! My baba is calling!" Johnny interrupted, shushing us as he put his phone to his ear, a quick string of Mandarin shot back and forth through the old Nokia. When he was finished, he tucked it back into his pocket, a dark look crossing his features. "Old man's getting cranky. I was already going to skip tonight's fireworks anyway, I'm not really…prepared to make an appearance."

"Hey, fair's fair, Johnny. See you tomorrow?" I asked, clasping his arm and patting him on the back.

"Yeah. Give me a few more nights and I should have something ready," Johnny replied, giving a similar departure to Andre and Jaiden. He gave us a parting wave and disappeared into the crowd, a skill learned fast by downtown Brocktonites. I turned to the still-pouting Jaiden, glaring at the machine.

"Hey, I get it. I want to crush it with my comically sized hammer, but we've gotta discuss tonight," Andre said, pulling Jaiden away from the source of her agony. I followed along, a play fight erupting between Jaiden and myself as I teased her over the loss.

We quickly moved our way through the crowd, careful to avoid throwing punches in the denser parts, making our way further into the city. In the Boardwalk, gangs tended to stay out, what with the local security forces. Oh, and the Protectorate headquarters looming in the distance perhaps playing a factor. We needed business, and business for us was slow around the Boardwalk.

"You guys think here's a good place to change?" Andre asked, jerking his thumb into a secluded alley.

We'd moved over into Merchants territory, which is something no sane person would do unless they had reasons for it. Us? Well, we wanted to start small, and breaking up a few drug deals didn't seem too hard.

"Yeah, those dumpsters should keep us out of sight. One way in, one way out. Good spot," Jaiden muttered, taking in the alley with the rest of us. "I'll keep watch while you change."

"Alright. Ladies first?" I asked, dodging the retaliatory strike.

Andre and I crouched down behind one of the dumpsters while Jaiden leaned causally against the corner of the alley. Blue motes of light began to coalesce and surround Andre, forming into chain mail armor that wouldn't be out of place at a Rrenfair. More blue motes swirled around his hand, forming a leather helmet, then a chest piece, eventually forming a full set on the ground. I set to work putting it on, Andre giving me the privacy to change. Thankfully, the armor fit over the t-shirt and jeans I'd worn as a base layer. Not to mention, getting it fitted in my size had been no small effort.

Where two teenagers had entered, two armor-clad figures emerged, capes to anyone with an iota of intelligence.

"Your turn, J. You have a name we can use?" I asked, leaning against the alley corner opposite to Andre.

"Yeah, I figured something out. Can't believe it took me forever to figure out a name," she said, walking to the end of the alley and behind the dumpster.

"Hey, what about my suggestion? It fits!" Andre, now Requisition, called back.

"Dragonator," came the garbled response, an unsettling mix of cracking bone and slithering flesh emanating from behind the dumpster, "is a horrible name," Jaiden finished. Where a teenage girl had hidden, the form of a large, purple velociraptor straight from Jurassic Park stalked down the alley. That was, if the velociraptors were three times as large and had long, scaly protrusions jutting from just above the eyes. "Call me Stampede."

"Stampede? I like it. What's this one called?" I asked, curious about her appearance. She'd shown us a few other of her changer forms, and one of the forms she called "halfway there."

"It's called a Tzitzi-Ya-Ku. Intimidation and bioluminescent flashbang," she replied, unfurling the nodes on her head to reveal a pearlescent membrane that easily caught the light, streaks of blue and green running their length.

"Well, if you two are done with the beauty pageant, let's go crack some heads, huh?" Requisition asked, blue motes coalescing into a folded bowgun on his back. Stampede and I let out a groan at the pun, but knowing Andre, it wouldn't be the last one we heard tonight.

"If you insist. Want to take the high ground or stay street level?" I asked, hefting my slinger.

"You kidding? What kind of capes would we be if we didn't?" Requisition replied, a toothy grin visible under his visor. "Race you to Empire turf!" he challenged, shooting his claw and grappling onto the edge of the building.

I followed suit, not willing to let him hold this over me. Thankfully, that slinger practice we'd done in the Boat Graveyard was paying off. Where Requisition had had all the relevant training and information about his equipment downloaded into his brain, I'd been forced to learn grappling with the claw the hard way.

I climbed over the roof swiftly, pausing to look back for Stampede, only to fall in surprise as she landed next to me, having jumped from the ground to the roof in one leap.

"Jesus, you gave me a heart attack!" I exclaimed, getting back to my feet.

"You snooze you lose! Oh, and And- Requisition has his insect glaive out. Good luck!" She called, giving me a saurian wink and racing to the next rooftop. With a sigh, I followed suit, jumping over to the next building and high on the adrenaline of our debut. A memory came to mind, of a smiling face, myself and an old friend watching a news report, the Monster Hunter on screen.

"And remember, even when everything feels like it's lost, there's always something you can do. As long as you have hope, grit, and a little luck, you can fight monsters. You can win. Fight monsters."