It didn’t take long for the backup to arrive. 

Hunters, Edgar explained, typically work in small groups, or alone. Unlike a traditional military or law enforcement agency, they tend to be individualistic and idiosyncratic to a fault, with very little in the way of standardized tactics and techniques. This, by the way, is entirely by design. Haven’s charter specifically forbids any military formations except in times of war, and since there’s no one in the Vale to fight, that basically means never. 

The idea is, if there’s no military, it’s that much harder for a charismatic leader to recruit them for a coup. Individual Hunters might choose to follow someone, and bring their team along if they have one, but they don’t train to work together as a cohesive fighting force. Other Hunters are bound to disagree with the notion of taking over by force, too, so it’s a self-policing system. 

But what about the scut work, stuff like investigating crime scenes, or crowd control? Well, that’s where the Auxiliary comes into play. The Hunter Auxiliary, or HAux as they like to call themselves, are strictly unarmed. It’s made up of mages who have no aptitude for combat, but nonetheless want to help maintain law and order. 

As the name implies, they’re not a regular force. They’re more of an unarmed militia, who are only called up when needed. Their civilian jobs, for lack of a better word, are supposed to complement their work with the HAux, but there’s nothing that says an Alchemist with a good eye can’t play detective on the side, so long as they take the time to get certified. 

Accompanying them for security were any Hunters in the barracks who weren’t busy on other jobs and wanted to make a little cash on the side. Hunters are paid purely on a bounty basis, so when they’re not on a case, they’re not making any money. But since big jobs like this have bounties that can run into well six figures, even the measly quarter of a percent that Edgar offered for anyone who wanted to tag along was a decent chunk of change. 

To put it into perspective, my cut of $100,000 USD was twenty percent of the total bounty. Edgar and Cora each pulled 35%, or $175,000. The remaining ten percent would pay for security, HAux’s hourly pay, and filing fees. I didn’t mind getting a smaller cut, since I was both the new guy and didn’t have to worry about anyone shooting at me. Plus, if we turned up something big, the contract had a bonus clause. It was unlikely, but there was a slim chance I could be a millionaire by the time everything was said and done. 

Hunting pays well, no doubt about it, but judging by Cora’s menagerie of battle scars, those numbers are so high for a reason. Healing magic can do wondrous things. It can knit together broken bones, erase cuts and punctures like they weren’t even there, reattach severed limbs, even regrow whole organs. But for all it can do, there are limits. It can’t erase the memory of pain, and in some cases, it leaves behind gruesome scars. 

It’s rare for a Hunter to die on the job these days, but it’s equally rare to find one who wants to get back into the fight after getting pieced back together. 

“You gonna sit up there all day with your thumb up your ass, or come down so we can get some chow?” demanded one of those rarities over my radio. 

“Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec,” I grumbled. “Security team is nearly in place.”

“We’re not getting paid by the hour, you know,” Cora said. 

God that girl gets on my nerves. Hell on wheels in a fight, sure, but it wasn’t so much that she had a screw loose as she didn’t have any left that were tightened. 

“Are you trying to be as big a pain in the ass as possible, or does it just come naturally?” I shot back. 

Sure, technically our job was over once the backup team was on site, but I wasn’t about to come down from my perch until I was sure they had a cordon set up. Old habits die hard, and I don’t like to leave a post until properly relieved. 

I could practically feel her winding up for her next big comeback, but Edgar cut her off. 

“Lock it up, Cora,” he said, sighing heavily. “Mycroft’s got the right idea. You might not give a damn about anyone else, but the rest of us have this thing called basic human decency.”

“Oh, FU-”

“We’ve got a squirter,” I interrupted before Cora had a chance to dig herself any deeper. “Three o’clock, on foot. Jesus, he’s fast.”

As those two were bickering, someone from inside the house tried to make a break for it, aiming right for a gap in the cordon where the relief team hadn’t quite got set up. 

“I don’t see anything,” Edgar reported. 

“Shit, he’s shrouded,” I said. By now I was used to spotting the slight distortion through the thermal optic. “Engage?”

“Roger. Take him out. Try for the knees, but kill if you have to.”

“Wilco,” I replied, and yanked the radio connecting cable from my headset. This was already going to be a tricky shot, and I didn’t need any distractions. 

The target was about a hundred yards away, as the crow flies, but gaining distance quickly. And since I was about ten yards in the air, that meant my distance to target was slightly further. Not much of a difference yet, but still something to take into account. Not to mention, this guy was quick. 

There wasn’t time for anything fancy. I picked a spot in front of him, right about hip level, and filled it with lead, ripping out an entire magazine as I raced to keep my crosshairs ahead of the target. 

It was a good thing I wasn’t stingy with the bullets. The target stumbled after the first hit, but caught his balance and kept running. If anything, he sped up. But then there was a second hit, and a third, and a fourth. The cumulative effects of the hits kept piling up, and as I got my eye dialed in, they kept coming faster and faster. By the time my mag was dry, the runner had eaten at least twelve 68 grain projectiles. 

For the uninitiated, 5.56 NATO rounds are tiny, but what they lack in mass, they make up for with velocity. When they hit something soft, like flesh, they tend to tumble and shatter into a bunch of really angry shards of lead and copper that rip and tear their way back through to clean air. Getting shot with anything sucks, but 5.56 is particularly unpleasant. 

“Holy hell, his leg’s off,” came an unfamiliar voice over the comms as I plugged my radio back in. 

“Overwatch, this is Jolly Roger, that was some clutch shooting. Well done.”

“Tango mike,” I replied, using the phonetic shorthand for thanks much. “Still breathing?”

“Looks like he managed to pop an amulet before passing out,” my new pirate friend replied. “He’ll live, but he won’t be happy when he wakes up.”

One of the more useful tools available to Hunters and mages who can afford them are healing amulets. An Artificer can engrave a piece of wood or glass, or anything else that can be broken by biting down or squeezing with your fingers, with a specialized rune that releases a charge of healing energy when broken. A Healer can then imbue that rune with energy, which will sit happily until it’s needed.  The more talented the Artificer and the more powerful the Healer, the more effective the amulet. 

Mid grade healing amulets like the sort carried by Hunters and emergency personnel were good for patching up all kinds of traumatic injuries, but they were considered temporary fixes. The energy would usually wear off before the wounds were completely closed, but that still bought enough time to get the patient to a proper Healer. The amulet Edgar had loaned me for this mission would bring me back from anything short of brain death, he had explained. It was also worth more than any three bounties on the open market, so he advised me not to break it unless I was about to croak. 

“That’s his problem,” I replied. 

I reached for a fresh magazine, and swore when I realized I was fresh out. 

“Jolly Roger, this is Overwatch,” I called over the radio. “I’m black on ammo. You guys good?”

“That’s a good copy, Overwatch, we got it from here. Go join your team, and don’t let that stingy bastard Edgar bilk you out of your bonuses. My gut says y’all are sitting pretty after tonight.”

“Wilco,” I said with a chuckle. “Overwatch, out.”