Remember the Crime

The girl ran through the enclosed area with the acute desperation of a hunted animal. Her clothes, ripped and worn, revealed terrible red blisters and welts across her skin, and her long black hair stuck out, unkempt, and matted with blood. Tear tracks adorned a dirty face, and she frequently looked behind herself with terror in wide eyes.

Hall after hall, she came to dead ends and booby-trapped false exits while pursued by the hunter, a mere boy barely out of his adolescence. Despite his age, his skinny body donned the arsenal and weaponry of an inhuman hunter, and a communicator hooked over his left ear. He chased her down with a serious and calculating expression on his face, not yet devoid of baby fat, which made him appear older than his years. He raised a hand that flickered blue, causing a secret door to open in a wall. He immediately entered it, and it sealed behind him.

Jean and the men in his immediate family stood in a small security room where two servants operated cameras within the arena. There, they observed monitors displaying the hunt. Each but Ulrich wore full hunting gear, an assortment of buckles and belts of ammunition, loaded guns, vials, and swords dangling from belts around their hips and chests. Jean, however, stood at the back wall near the exit with his arms crossed, an apathetic expression adorning his face to hide his disdain.

He had difficulty believing he once found purpose in hunting innocent inhumans like the girl. The poor child had no chance against his nephew Luke.

They watched the girl attempt to navigate through the maze. With his inhuman senses, Jean could perceive Ulrich's eagerness as his son neared the girl from the shortcut.

"He's gotten the hang of magic," Ulrich said, a smile in his voice.

Luke came in contact with the girl and fired his gun when he saw her. The bullet missed as she dodged with a shout, and she cried tears that were darker than a human's. Hesitance appeared on the boy's face as he watched her huddle up and cry.

Nicholae made the softest sound of doubt. "Luke's too good a kid."

Artie scoffed, his face fixed forward. "Meaning?"

The older man slightly shook his head. "Making his first target something that looks like a kid his age, and a girl, at that..."

A hand waved in his direction. "He'll do fine," Ulrich assured. "He's been preparing for this for a while now."

The words had just left his mouth when the girl's face twisted on the screen with a menacing hiss, baring razor-sharp teeth and red eyes while lunging at Luke. The men in the room visibly tensed, but the boy shifted in time for her to bite his gun, his expression dark and emotionless once more. With a swift hand, he reached for and cracked a vial of holy water onto her body. She shrieked and shrunk away, curling into herself.

She huddled on the floor, a portion of her body steaming and boiling morbidly. "P-please," she begged, "don't h-hurt me anymore! I wanna go home!"

Luke neared and unflinchingly lifted his gun to her forehead. Seconds after she squeezed her eyes shut, he pulled the trigger.

Friedrich, Ulrich, and Artie cheered as they watched the girl's body collapse to the floor. Her brain matter promptly turned black as her body liquid pooled around her form and slowly dissolved into nothingness.

"Alright! 'Atta boy!" said Friedrich, clapping a hand on Ulrich's shoulder. "He did remarkably well."

"Better than I did at his age," Artie agreed.

Nicholae crossed his arms, looking at Ulrich with a small smile. "I see my worries were for naught."

Chuckling, Ulrich spoke into his earpiece, "Excellent work, son."

On-screen, the boy smiled with pride, summoning a clear magic shield to protect himself from the Infernal's black ashes. "Thank you, sir."

Behind his family, Jean glanced at the floor and closed his eyes, soundlessly murmuring a prayer.

The situation that brought the girl into the arena uncomfortably reminded him of the time in Goshe five years ago. A mother and daughter...

He took a few steps forward and placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. When Ulrich looked back at him, he nodded before turning to leave the room.

The arena was located deeper within the Cellar on the second basement floor. The walls could move around and were often modified into cells, allowing the hunters to interrogate inhumans and humans alike.

Jean's shoulders evenly rose and fell at the unwanted reminder this was also where his uncle Alfred met his terrorizing end.

He left the security room and walked down a brightly lit area with sections to his left and right. They were warmer in aura than the coldness of the steely arena. To his right, he could make out the utilities in the gym, and to his left, he scanned the dark parkour enclosure of the training room.

Stepping up the staircase to the first basement floor, he glanced into the empty dining room to his left before walking up the second staircase to the antechamber. He immediately spotted Calvin sitting at the bar.

"Hey, Boss. How's Luke doing?" For once the platinum blond wore his glasses as he watched television.

"Well. The nestling is dead." Jean gave a smile, one seasoned from years of imitating them.

Resting at the poker table, Hugh grinned widely. "Can't wait to see the rascal as a seasoned hunter."

Jean lowered his head in thought, nodding. "Yeah. He'll do fine." He neared his office. "It's in his blood."

Laughter of approval came from behind him as he entered the room. He began to close the door, and though he wanted to, he didn't let it close all the way. With his back to it, he internally sighed.

Some of his men found the girl while on a hunt earlier that day, one he didn't partake in. They killed the mother along with several other Infernals in their human forms, then brought the girl back to the estate to question her for more information.

Torture her, rather.

They tormented her with showers of holy water and spells that, despite their lack of potency, successfully attacked her young body. They told her things no one should hear, let alone someone her age. They hadn't viewed her as any sort of intelligent, emotional being; her cries and screams for her mother were only to sway and deceive.

Then Ulrich caught wind of their "interrogation" and decided to use her as a mouse for his eldest child to hunt.

Eager to distract himself, Jean closed his eyes.

A mental image of six individuals immediately formed in his mind. His shoulders eased, and he suddenly yearned for them. His family. His own made family.

With another, softer sigh, he moved to sit on his couch. He rested his head against the back of the upholstery and let his eyes close again. With effort, he moved his thoughts away from them...

Soon, it would be time for the next hunter meeting in Michigan. He ought to make preparations to leave. He frowned. Furthermore, in just a few weeks after, the Lowell family reunion would take place at the manor. At the reminder, he idly massaged his forehead with exasperation.

He had just begun to drift when he heard voices nearing the antechamber. He heard Luke among them, prompting him to stand and approach the open door. The small group entered the space with the boy at the front, smiling and laughing.

Jean donned the mask of nonchalance and exited his office to smile at them. "Look who's all grown up," he said to Luke who smiled brightly at him. "Won't be long before you replace me as the leader of our hunters."

There were a few amused scoffs, and Hugh gave a sarcastic grin. "Plan on retiring early, Jean?"

"Not readily," he chuckled, though the opposite thought ran through his mind.

His brother-in-law laughed as Luke moved to sit at one of the bar stools, now absent of Calvin, while everyone scattered about. "I don't know, Uncle..."

Jean crossed his arms, head tilting to the side. "Have concerns?"

The boy nodded. "I started so late."

Ulrich came to his son's side and placed a reassuring hand on the thin shoulder. "So you did, but that's fine. You're doing well."

Luke sighed but nodded. His expression shortly brightened again. "Can I stay here for a while?" At the grins shot his way, he beamed when his father shrugged.

"Don't see why not, eh, Jean?"

Inclining his head, Jean replied, "If you're old enough to wield a gun, you're plenty old enough to--"

An alarm went off, originating from the red phone near the bar. Startled, Luke looked in its direction, then furrowed his brows and slipped off his stool to answer it. "The Cellar Outpost," he said in a stern tone.

As he observed, Jean caught Friedrich nudge Ulrich with a smile of approval. One couldn't say Luke wasn't taking his role as a fledgling hunter with marvelous stride.

"Mercer Island?" Luke glanced at them with confusion and similar expressions returned to him.

Artie moved closer to Jean. They exchanged glances. "Why the hell would anyone be there?"

Jean could only frown. Some years ago, the government of Connecticut, which had jurisdiction over Mercer, quarantined the island on their recommendation after they simply couldn't completely purge it of Infernals.

Steadily, the rest of Jean's group entered from where they had been in the outpost, summoned by the alarm.

"Alright. We'll be there." Luke hung up the phone, then turned to address everyone with a frown. "It was a girl, maybe around my age. She's at the Roanoke Islands and said there are strange creatures coming from Mercer. She used to live there, so she knows about the Infernals from five years ago."

Jean uncrossed his arms. "Demons in the water?" He glanced at Ulrich who promptly shook his head.

"Patrols have spotted nothing," he said, confused.

Humming, Jean took only a second to consider, then moved to the armory roulette in the room behind the bar. "Nicholae, Sarkis, Trevor, Elaine, and Calvin. Gear up."

They met his words with a resounding, "Sent."

"I'll meet you there, Jean," Ulrich called. "I'll see what l can learn from the Islands."

"Alright." From the armory, Jean gathered several more vials of holy water and his consecrated whip, Valk. After loading up, he turned to leave, the sound of clinking and shifting from mobilization resounding in his ears.

Nicholae came to his side as they exited the outpost. They glanced at one another with similar expressions of suspicion.

"The Roanoke Islands," said Trevor in passing. "Maybe I'm thinking too deeply into this, but why would a child call us if anyone could see it? The islands face Mercer..."

While the others agreed, the question went unanswered. The sound of the helicopter neared in the distance, visible in the afternoon sky.

"Ugh," Calvin griped. "Mercer-fucking-island. Haven't we been there enough already?"

Recalling the reports he read and filed, Jean hummed aloud. "We may have to split into two groups; at least two on Roanoke to make sure the demons don't go infesting them."

"If they haven't already," Nicholae added.

"If they haven't already," Jean agreed. "We check Mercer and the Roanoke main after."

Hair and clothes fluttered wildly in the wind as the helicopter landed a distance from them on its helipad. Sarkis, one of the normally designated pilots, approached first as the cockpit door opened to relieve the servant inside. The others shortly followed through the side door.

Moving swiftly, they strapped themselves in as the whirring of the rotors became louder. Jean watched Trevor take a computer to sit down with and power up.

"Thankfully," said the technician, his voice clear over the radio, "we know the layout of the island. Maybe too well."

"And there's only one real place of interest," Nicholae added. "That graveyard."

"The demons are coming from underground, I reckon," said Elaine.

"We already searched there," said Sarkis.

As the helicopter took off, attention focused on Elaine as she added, "Deeper. Much deeper."

"Yes...We purged the island," said Nicholae, folding his arms, "maybe, what? Five times? That massive underground place, on the other hand..."

Nodding, Jean recalled it. "It goes below the seabed."

"So, the whole island is likely infested with them at this point," Elaine sighed, "regardless of how unusually quiet they've been."

"Let's assume the worst." Jean's expression darkened. "Let's also hope we don't have to perform an erasure."

They discussed various plans of approach on their way to the neighboring island.

* * *

It didn't take long to arrive. They remained in the island's airspace, surveilling the surrounding area from the helicopter's doorway. Everything seemed quiet, still and lifeless. One observation Jean made, however, gave him pause. The entire island was nearly bare of signs of previous human inhabitants. Every building had an unusually large amount of thick vegetation that surely hadn't grown in five years. Perhaps thirty.

"Jean," Ulrich called over the radio, "you're...not going to believe what's going on over here."

"Let me guess," Jean sighed, brushing his hair out of his face, "the demons have taken over."

"Oh, yeah. And these things...They're massive. I can't find much of a sign of human life from my end, but from the sounds of things, there are definitely survivors down there."

Jean took a step back from the doorway. "Take us to Roanoke, Sarkis."

"Sent," came the reply.

"Ulrich, pull out. Get into contact with some of the smaller islands and get back to me."

"Sent."

The helicopter moved from Mercer, flying towards the larger island on the near horizon. As they approached, signs of chaos became increasingly apparent. Large, misshapen green forms flailed their limbs about, destroying buildings and running rampant. From Jean's point of view, they seemed almost infuriated. Or, perhaps, pointedly determined.

With his advanced eyesight, he could see the demons up close. They were the same ones he read about from years before, if not considerably larger. The forms were twisted, shambling forms of thick vines with bulbous white protuberances on them. Eggs.

His eyes narrowed as he beheld the sight.

This could be a painfully unpleasant hunt.

Sarkis moved the helicopter higher to create distance between them and the creatures below, likely in case they felt the need to attack. They circled a few times, looking for a place to land while surveying the area. Several times, they heard people scream but couldn't make out any survivors. The screams abruptly cut off each time, giving the idea the number of survivors was dwindling--if not becoming victims to a fate worse than death.

"That's good, Sarkis." Jean looked around as the helicopter hovered to a full stop. "Trev, how many graveyards are there?"

"Approximately four, one in each town."

Jean took a step back to glance at his group. Elaine and Calvin awaited his order with their weapons ready. He nodded at Nicholae, giving a salute, then stepped out.

As he fell, he manifested a blue platform beneath his and his team's feet. He heard a whoop from Calvin, bringing a small smile to his face.

They rode the platforms closer to the ground, their destination the northern cemetery. Several of the demons stood in their way, but the fiends were nothing against a few gunshots and slices from swords.

Overhead, as the helicopter departed, the sounds of buzzing caught up with them. Jean didn't have to look to know the Dragonfly drones were overhead, and several zipped forward.

"Boss, there's a bigger demon in the graveyard. There are signs of human life, marks of blood and bodies..." Trevor briefly paused. "Someone is definitely being fed on."

Jean frowned and pressed forward. He could see the cemetery with his eyesight but knew his team couldn't, not yet. The closer they came, the distant sound of screaming and choking drifted to greet them. They were bloodcurdling; it made him wince.

The strong scent of demons in the air indicated they made it to their destination even before they arrived at the heavily rusted wrought-iron gates. From their positions above, they spotted a massive collection of tangled vines with large spines and white bulbs on them throughout the vegetation.

Jean couldn't make out the victim, though human screams emitted, seemingly, from the vines themselves. What made Jean's stomach twist was the sounds of gagging that intermittently broke through the screams.

The moment the creature came within range, they opened fire. Jean fired at what he presumed was the demon's "face", and the gunshot busted a large hole through it. As it shrieked, limbs flailing, he expected it to char away. But to his surprise, the hole regenerated, slowly but surely. The smaller demons couldn't do that.

He internally huffed.

An upper-D to C-class demon. Great.

Instead of letting it regenerate, he shot at the same spot, causing it to shriek once more and weakly stumble back. A bomb knocked it away, but that only brought to mind the person in the demon's grasp.

Elaine took it on at a relatively close range along with Nicholae while Jean and Calvin shot at it from a distance. Just as they were ganging on the weakening creature, it disappeared instantaneously.

Or it would have been instantaneous if not for Jean's inhuman eyesight catching it swiftly jump into the air. In a human's eyes, it disappeared at once, taking his team by surprise. His mouth opened to shout at them, but nothing came out from self-preservation.

For what marked the umpteenth time since he became inhuman, he wondered how he could keep his inhumanity a secret while simultaneously keeping his group alive.

Deciding in a heartbeat that their lives were more important, he moved quickly, holstering his gun. With it behind them, he sensed its limbs lashing out. He pressed a fist into a palm and manifested a long javelin glowing bluish-white. Without missing a beat, he spun and lanced it at the demon, blasting another hole in its body and throwing it back.

He and his team spun around to see the creature land on the ground.

Elaine made an annoyed grunt. "This thing's fucking fast!"

Reloading his gun, Jean narrowed his eyes. The victim had stopped screaming, but he could still sense human life from within the demon's folds.

Behind him, Nicholae threw several bombs at the creature that exploded upon making contact. Made with holy water and anti-demonic concoctions, it did the job of breaking the demon down. While its limbs immediately corroded to nothing, what remained of its appendages thumped at the ground.

They threw more bombs, and the flailing creature screamed wretchedly, literally coming undone and steadily revealing a form in its grasp. Seeing it, Jean readied to move forward and caught Nicholae doing the same. They briefly glanced at one another, then simultaneously raced forward with swords drawn.

"Boss, the ground beneath you's unstable!"

Before Jean could comprehend what this meant, the demon thumped hard at the ground one last time, causing a loud crack to echo from beneath them.

"Nicholae!" he shouted.

Ahead of him, his uncle halted just as the ground began to crumble away.

"Run!"

Elaine and Calvin were the first to escape, wrapping their whips around the furthest trees they could reach to propel themselves forward.

Jean, realizing he and Nicholae were too far away, lowered his hand to create a large oval-shaped platform for them to stand on seconds before the ground collapsed beneath their feet.

He spun around to see the demon had disappeared. He sensed it further into the abyss that had formed.

Nicholae lowered to stare into it. "Fucking hell," he breathed, "too close."

"You two okay?" Elaine called, her distant voice carrying a worried tone.

Giving her and Calvin a wave, Jean nodded.

The second he sensed it, he knew he could do nothing about it.

He was still waving when a spiked green tendril ensnared his body and left arm. The sound of his shout just left his mouth when the vine violently pulled him into the abyss. A cry of alarm from his team made it to his ears followed by the chorus of his name.

The force of the pull alone could have killed him. He could feel it in his abdomen, at his waist. The wind rushed past him as he fell, and he raised his free hand to create a simple burst of magic towards the demon in the near-pitch blackness.

It shrieked and threw him, smacking him into what felt like a jagged rock, fiercely rattling his brain and scraping him.

He fell in a daze, tumbling and body limp. He came to when a spiked tendril once more grabbed him. With a snarl, he broke through the grasp with sheer strength alone, then made a triangle with his hands and aimed a beam of magic at the demon.

He saw the creature clearly in the darkness as it shrieked. It fell unmoved, limp with a massive hole in its body as the rest finally corroded away. He could see the man that it had held, but what he saw alarmed him.

"Jean! Jean, can you hear me?"

At the sound of Nicholae's voice over the radio, he winced but didn't answer, unsure if he should.

The distraction of the call, the charring demon, and the meeting of the man's gaze caused him to miss the sign of the incoming floor below. The immediate second he noticed, it was too late.

Upon colliding with it, white flashed behind his eyes.