Hunter's Legacy

Alexander

“Now we train with weapons,” Camille said, as the three of them sat in the armory. Alexander looked down at the table in front of him, upon which Camille and Natasha had set out an assortment of weapons; guns, bows and arrows, crossbows, grenades, swords, daggers...for all he knew, there could have been a missile launcher among the vast amount of weapons that they had stored in the Bunker’s armory.

Even though Alexander didn’t much care for weapons of any kind, he had to admit that Camille had a point: hand-to-hand combat wouldn’t stand half a chance against the creatures they would be facing.

“I think he should practice with a long-range weapon, first,” Camille said, as she sat in a tipped-back chair, with her heavy boots crossed over the table top, as she examined her fingernails, “I don’t think he’s quick enough, yet, to handle close-range weapons like knives and daggers.”

“You’re right,” Natasha said, thoughtfully, taking out the daggers, swords, and knives, only leaving the guns and bows.

“What about those?” Alexander asked, pointing towards a case that contained a row and and a half of titanium-and-sapphire-encrusted hilts with obsidian blades sprouting from them.

“Nope, you’re not even remotely ready for one of those,” Camille said. She moved her feet down and the metal chair hit the concrete floor with a thump, and she walked over to the case. Alexander watched her slide what looked like an ID card through a slot; there was a beeping sound, and two little lights turned green. Camille slid the glass door open and took one of the blades.

He watched, in awe, as the darkened blade glowed with a violet-colored light, as her hand came in contact with the hilt. The blade seemed to hum and reverberate; the glow that took place around it seemed so bright, that it made the rest of the room appear dim.

“What is that?” Alexander whispered.

“That, Alexander, is a Shadow Blade,” Camille said proudly, grinning, as she held the blade aloft.

“A Shadow Blade?” Alexander repeated, skepticism coating his tone, “Sounds like a name that some author would give to a weapon in a comic book.”

“A Shadow Blade is a magically-infused sword that has the power to end the life of any being,” Camille said, looking at the blade.

“Why can’t I start with that, then?” Alexander asked. To him, it made more sense to teach him how to handle the weapon that could get rid of anything, rather than teaching him how to handle weapons that may or may not do the trick when it comes to facing a monster.

“Did you not hear me?” Camille asked, “I said that this blade is capable of ending the life of any being. Not just monsters, but humans as well.”

“What happens if a human gets stabbed with one?” Alexander asked.

“No one really knows,” Natasha shrugged, “Either way, you can’t even get started with your weapon’s training, before you pass your psychiatric evaluation.” She set down a white sheet of paper in front of him. Alexander looked down at it, and felt his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead, before he turned the surprised look towards Natasha.

“Are you serious?” Alexander asked, looking at the two women who stood before him, “A psych evaluation? You have to pass a psych evaluation before handling a weapon? In here?” Alexander dissolved into fits of laughter. His laughter quickly died down when he looked up and saw that neither of the two women saw the comedic irony of the situation.

“I don’t understand why you’re laughing at something that’s so serious,” Natasha said, with a raised eyebrow, “It’s a precaution, so that we know, for sure, when you pick up a weapon, you’re not going to kill us all.”

“She’s right,” Camille agreed, replacing the Shadow Blade back in the case and sealing it up again, “Some of the Hunters themselves may be monsters, but they want to catch the monsters that turned them in the first place.”

“All I’m saying is, go to our psychologist, tell her that you’re starting weapons training, and she’ll take it from there,” Natasha shrugged.

“It’s stupid,” Alexander mumbled, petulantly, snatching up the paper and looking it over.

“Go to Doctor Timmons, and, when she clears you, we’ll start your training,” Camille said, shooing him out of his seat.

“Where do I go?” Alexander asked, cramming his hands in his pants pockets.

“West wing, third door on the left,” Natasha responded, pushing off of the case that housed over a dozen arrowheads. The three of them walked out of the armory; Camille and Natasha went to the left, when they came to the end of the hall, and Alexander went to the right, making his way to the West wing.

Alexander soon noticed that the third door on the left was the only marked door; written on the frosted window, in chunky black block text, it read Dr. M. Timmons. PhD.

Alexander knocked on the door and pushed it open, a bit.

“Hello?” he called out, to the, seemingly, empty room, “Dr. Timmons?”

The room--or office, he guessed it was--was sparsely furnished. A wooden desk sat near the back wall, with a computer, keyboard, and mouse placed on it. A high-backed wooden chair sat on the other side of the desk and, behind that, hanging on the wall, were several framed diplomas and degrees. To the right of the desk sat a dark-gray filing cabinet; a few feet to the left of the filing cabinet was a mint-green chaise lounge, decorated with a small brown pillow.

“Can I help you?” A voice from behind Alexander said, causing him to jump, slightly, as he turned to face the owner of the voice. She was a woman of medium height, with platinum blonde hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. Her skin was cream-colored, with a slight pink blush on her cheekbones; a pair of rectangle-shaped glasses barely hid her blue-gray eyes.

Alexander was also slightly shocked at her choice of attire; instead of a skirt or some kind of pantsuit, she was dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He was speechless, and he was pretty sure that his jaw was hitting the floor.

“So, is there something I can help you with, or did you come here to drool all over my floor?” the sarcastic quip had Alexander shaking his head, as he felt his face heat up.

“My name’s Alexander Sutton, I was coming here for a psychiatric evaluation, before I start my weapons training,” Alexander said, shrugging.

“I’m Marianne Timmer,” she said, sticking her hand out in greeting, “Please sit down.” Alexander nodded, and Dr. Timmer grabbed a notepad and then settled herself in a plush chair that was adjacent to the couch. “So, you’re a hunter.”

“Sort of,” Alexander said, clapping his hands once before rubbing them together, nervously.

“Sort of?” she repeated the statement as a question, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t know what would really give me the qualifications to become a Hunter,” Alexander shrugged, again.

“Well, we only classify Hunters as beings who have come in contact with another being of a supernatural nature and has come to terms with the fact that the supernatural exists,” Dr. Timmer said, making notes on the pad that was on her lap, “So, I’m guessing that, you had an encounter with a supernatural being. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I guess,” Alexander sighed and scratched his neck; the longer that he was here in the Bunker, the more insane he felt. These people talked about monsters like they were real; sure he’s seen things that he couldn’t explain, but he chalked it up to hallucinations. Even the incident involving his mother.

“Why don’t we start with what brought you to the Bunker,” Dr. Timmer said. Alexander explained the event that went on with his mother; Dr. Timmer sat there, nodded and made notes. Then he went on to explain visiting the Witch in New Orleans; how he couldn’t understand what he had seen, and had chalked it up to hallucinations and nightmares.

“As much as I would like to tell you that it’s just simple PTSD and trauma, that’s not the case,” Dr. Timmer said, in an apologetic tone, “You’ve encountered a demon, a werewolf, and a witch; you are currently working with a vampire and a human. This world is very real, Alexander, and the faster you come to terms with it, the more sense it will make in the long run.”

Alexander was slightly taken aback; he’d heard of psychiatrists and psychologists never using the amount of bluntness that Dr. Timmer just did. Then again, Alexander figured that this wasn’t an ordinary place so why would they have an ordinary psychologist?

“So, does that mean that you’ll clear me for weapons training?” Alexander asked.

“Yes, you’re fine, and you are no closer to wreaking any havoc on us than the next monster who tries to grace us with their presence,” Dr. Timmer said, scribbling on a sheet of paper, before she tore it off of the notepad and handed it over.

“Thank you,” Alexander said, standing up. He held out his hand and they shook. When he reached the door, he paused before opening it, and turned back towards Dr. Timer, who was straightening a stack of papers and sticking them into a folder, “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she said, carrying the folder to the filing cabinet, and stowing it in the drawer, and then she turned back to Alexander.

“You said that Hunters usually come in contact with a supernatural being,” Alexander started off, slowly, rolling the words around his tongue, and hoping that he could find the right wording, so as not to offend her.

“Yes, that’s right,” Dr. Timmer nodded, as she walked over to the desk and leaned against the edge of it.

“What was your experience? How did you end up here?” Alexander asked.

“Well, I was in college and I got involved with this group of people who were into witchcraft--black magic and such. One night, they decided to see if this spell that they had come across in a library book actually worked.

“They cast it, and, for a second, nothing happened at all. Then, the lights in the dorm started flickering, and then they went out. After a few minutes, the lights came back on, and a woman was sitting on the desk that was in there.

“When the woman revealed herself to be a demon, the other girls started trying to negotiate with her, make demands. When one of the girls made a foolishly snide remark about us being the demon’s masters, everything fell apart.

“With a flick of her wrist, the demon killed each girl; I had taken the cowardly way out and I had hidden under the bed; because the demon didn’t see me, she assumed that everyone who had summoned her was dead.”

There was silence after her story, and Alexander’s heart ached.

“What did you do after that?” he whispered.

“The only thing I could do; I went on with my life. I ended up changing my major to psychology, and, in the meantime, I studied the lore of various monsters. I couldn’t tell anybody what I had witnessed, so I just kept quiet and continued to help people in my own way. About two years after I graduated, Piper approached me, offering me a spot as the Bunker’s psychologist,” a smile graced her lips.

“You kept referring to the demon as ‘The demon’ or ‘she,’ why is that?” Alexander asked.

“Because, when a demon comes to earth, they tend to inhabit humans,” Dr. Timmer explained, “It makes it easier for them to blend in.”

“Dr. Timmer, are Demons able to adopt their host’s persona?” Alexander asked. He was pretty sure that she knew where he was going with this line of questioning, but he had to know.

“Yes, they can. Often times, said Demon will kill the host inside and take over the body for themselves--less of a threat of being detected as a Demon.”

“Is that what happened to D-Diana?” Alexander swallowed around the lump in his throat, as he said her name; he remembered the coldness of her smile, the way that her eyes had changed color, the way that she had spoke to him through clenched teeth as though she was angry about not being able to obtain a certain bit of information that she needed. And, finally the effortless and ruthless way that she had snapped his mother’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Timer said, “It sounds like that’s what happened, but I can’t say for sure. I’m sorry that I can’t give you a more definitive answer.”

“Is there a way to find out for sure?” Alexander asked. He had all the questions that seemed like they had no answers at all, he felt helpless in the light of all of this.

“Not unless you manage to track down the demon, but even that is a shot in the dark. Honestly, the easiest way to go about it, is to battle monsters and hope that, one day, the monster that you are battling has come in contact with the demon that caused your inner turmoil,” Dr. Timmer responded.

He knew that he was supposed to feel weightless, but, in regard, Alexander felt the complete opposite; he felt weighed down, he was leaving with more unanswered questions than he came in with.

“Thank you,” he said, and Dr. Timer, though she looked apologetic, she nodded. Taking his paper, Alexander shook her hand one more time before he left the office.

Camille

Sitting in the rec room, I used the large, outdated remote control to flip through the fifty or so channels of basic cable on the equally large and outdated TV.

“Why don’t you just settle on something already?” Natasha groaned, from her place at the other end of the couch, where she sat, her nose buried in an aged and nearly tattered book.

“Because I’m playing catch up; watching five years of reruns,” I replied, in a bored tone, as I pressed the up button, and went through the cycle again.

“You know, it’ll be easier to play that game if you settle on something,” Natasha responded.

“I’m surprised that you even know what TV is, considering your advanced age,” I the quipped, and she narrowed her eyes at me, but didn’t say anything else. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Alexander enter the room; he looked downtrodden, as he trudged over to the sofa and plopped down, between Natasha and me.

“How’d it go?” Natasha asked, marking her space in her book and turning her attention to him.

“It went fine,” Alexander answered, glumly, “I just found out, though, that Diana might’ve been possessed by a demon.”

“That surprises you?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow, as I continued to flip through channels.

“Camille!” Natasha chastised, as Alexander looked like he was at a loss for words.

“What?” I asked, looking between them. I finally turned off the TV, set down the remote control and turned so that I was facing the two of them, “All I meant was, wasn’t it obvious? I mean, was she always that cold?”

“Camille, I don’t think now’s the time--” Natasha started, but she was cut off by Alexander’s monotonous reply.

“No,” he said, staring at the coffee table that I had my feet on, “She was never as cold and callous as she was that day.”

“Well, there you go,” I replied, putting my feet down and sitting up straighter, “Did you pass your evaluation?”

“Dr. Timmer passed me, if that's what you mean,” Alexander replied, handing over a sheet of paper. I read through it, getting the gist of it rather quickly; he was passed, and even given the significant amount of trauma he possessed, he was no threat to the Bunker or its inhabitants.

“Alright then,” I responded, standing up and stretching my arms over my head, “Let’s go then.”

We’d been training with weapons for a week; Alexander seemed to do fine with long-range weapons, when it came to short-range, he had a long way to go. It was actually quite amusing watching him train; he’d faced off against Natasha and myself, also Piper and Eddie. He was doing well for learning so much in such a short amount of time, even if his speed was the only thing that he had left to work on.

“We need to go again,” I said, as I watched him face off with Natasha in the ring; she had him down, and a knife to his throat within a minute.

“Can’t we take a break?” Alexander panted, taking Natasha’s hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet.

“Yeah, we can take a break. But that break might mean the difference between you living and dying,” I said, as they walked to the edge of the ring; Natasha slid between the ropes in a graceful and elegant manner, while Alexander fought to get his leg through.

“Camille, a word, please?” Natasha said, and I nodded, moving over to stand by the bench, “You need to give him a break, let him get some rest.”

“He needs to learn this,” I said, “we don’t even know why the demons want him so bad, it’s better he learn it now, rather than when he’s faced with something he can’t handle.”

“Camille, Natasha,” Eddies voice reached us and we both looked over to see him walking towards us, “Piper wants to see you two and The Kid.”

“Not now, we’re training,” I said.

“It wasn’t a request,” Eddie said, his tone was dark and ominous.

“Alright, we’re on our way,” I said sighing. We walked over to where Alexander laid down on the floor, beside the ring. “Come on, we’ve got to go.” I nudged him with my foot and he groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach, and then pushed himself up.

We walked into Piper’s office, to find her poring over a file her lips were moving, as though she was speaking to herself, but we could hear no words coming from her.

“Are you okay, Piper?” Natasha asked, as she sat in one of the chairs, Alexander plopped, unceremoniously, into the second one, leaving me to lean against the side of the desk. Piper looked up at us, as though only just realizing we were there; her eyes flew wide, and she scrambled to put the papers back inside the folder, before we could see what she had been looking at.

“You have a case,” Piper said, without answering Natasha's question and recovering her usual cool demeanor, as she handed out thinner files than the one that she’d been studying. I looked over police reports, crime scene photos, and three autopsy reports, but I couldn’t make heads or tails out of it.

“What am I looking at here?” I finally asked, “Are there any theories?”

“Am I reading this right?” Natasha asked, her blonde eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline, “‘The victims were found in a mummified fashion, but no signs of defensive wounds’.”

“You are, in fact, reading it right,” Piper answered, nodding, and she sounded just as confused as the rest of us.

“Do we know what it is?” I asked, and Piper shook her head.

“Not a clue. Although, there is a man in the hospital. He may be able to give us some information,” Piper said.

"How do we know that he's a victim?" I asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"He was found in his home, like the other victims, no sign of forced entry, and he was severely dehydrated," Piper said.

"To the point of mummification?"

"Just about," Piper responded, "I know you guys have a lot on your plate right now, but you're my best team, and I need to make sure that, whatever this is, its dealt with quickly."

"I understand," Natasha replied, closing the file and leaning back in her seat, "When are we supposed to leave?"

"As soon as you can," Piper said.

“Where is this, exactly?” Alexander asked, looking at the sheets of paper with a furrowed brow.

“Las Vegas, Nevada,” Piper responded.

“Let’s get packing.”