The first person to come across the brutal scene was one of cultists. She’d been expected to report on the success, or failure of the mission. She was angry to report that it had been a failure. The first failed assassination that would eventually be credited to the Order in a few decades. She was in the process of typing out the message when she heard the cars approaching, and knew from the sounds of their engines, that they belonged to the authorities. “Fuck.” She whispered to herself. The surveyor felt a variety of emotions surge through her, none of them kind. She felt pure anger for the first time in years. So few monsters could actually overpower of the order’s assassins. The order was one of the best groups when it came to confronting the beasts who plagued humanity. Their assassins fought with magic, and with technology, fusing the two into an unorthodox fighting style that had managed to confront and kill monsters with ease. But not every encounter with monsters ended in victory. There was a real danger in confronting the creatures that disguise themselves as humans. The dismembered corpse of the assassin was a brutal reminder of the very real danger humans were in when they confronted the darkness that could cloak itself in a convincing human disguise, but was very decidedly not human.
“Failure. The girl killed him. The boy was hurt badly, possibly dead, but we can never tell with them. Especially not his kind.” She checked and rechecked her text message before hitting send, and began a hasty retreat, which was made faster when she mentally activated some of her “enhancements”. Even on foot she easily escaped without detection, and would continue monitoring the scene from a safe distance. She’d also swear vengeance for this dishonor on the girl, having been close enough to watch her maim the man who had been hired to kill her.
Neither of the two children were human. Fortunately for the Order, the boy appeared to have been more or less unaware of his true nature, and thus wasn’t ready for an ambush. The assassin fired a single, swift, and accurate shot which painfully connected with the boy’s head. It had exploded in a glorious display of blood and gore. But the assassin was also sure that even blowing off the head of one of these creatures couldn’t always kill them. Typically even monsters couldn’t survive having their heads blown off, or up, but the strongest were virtually immortal, and even something which would certainly kill a human wouldn’t be enough. Some monsters had forcibly come back to life after having their heads ripped off, or their hearts crushed in their chests.
The girl however had seen and reacted to the assassin. She didn’t hesitate. The assassin had been ready to fire another bullet, but before he had the chance, the girl had punched the steering wheel of her car. Stories wouldn’t prepare someone for actually witnessing the sheer, and absolute power, of a vampire. She had punched the steering wheel with every fiber of her being, and the entire front half of her car had come off, the steering wheel, the dashboard, and the entirety of what laid beneath the hood went sailing off of the other half of the car, leaving the girl exposed to the chilly pre-Spring air, next to what remained of her boyfriend, the sound was terrible, but the sight even worse, as half of a Buick went skidding at the assassin. The man hadn’t been able to withstand the power of the blow, and he was terrified, even as he felt the metal rip into him. By the time the metal had come to a halt, the man was very clearly not in one piece, as both of his legs laid in bloody, and gooey piles, reduced to more liquid than solid muscle, and he was moaning in agony. He would die after a mere two minutes of laying in writhing pain. Some would argue it was a fitting fate for an assassin who spent his life hunting and slaying a multitude of creatures, some more human than others, but many creatures who had been deserving to live. The other cultist, the one who’d been told to report on the result of the mission firmly believed in her objective, and thus would violently disagree with anyone who’d be of the opinion that his death was fitting.
The authorities would quickly arrive on the scene. What they’d find would disturb them. They found two leaving creatures, and one dead human. Anyone who examined what should have been the “body” of the assassin’s intended victim would be disturbed to observe that the “pool” of bodily fluid, including blood, and brain tissue, was beginning to pool, slowly and surely flowing towards where the head of the boy had once been. It was a weird ceremony to witness, partially because of the impossibility of it, and partially because it was so slow, but at the same time it was occurring at a speed which could be witnessed. By the time the agents of the government assigned to watching “creatures” all of the liquids which once constituted a head, had begun to flow impossibly upward of the boy’s shirt, where his head had once been, and would be again.
“Ma’am… we’re going to need you to come with us. You and your boyfriend.” The agents told the girl, the one whose super strength resulted in the dismembered assassin currently needing identification. “It’s procedural things. I have no doubt you’ll understand. Also… we need both of you.” Those words were the first to trigger a reaction from the girl, whose eyes immediately went from deep brown, to the bright orange associated with an angered vampire. The agents leapt back in unison, and felt the pressure being exerted by the “undead” girl. “Shit… are we going to need help?” One of the two said, before the girl began to calm down as easily as she got angered. “He’s… alive?” She asked, obviously stunned by the possibility of anything surviving such a powerful wound. “Yes he is… but he might be much longer, if we don’t work together. We’re friends. You probably need us more than we might need you, and I can guarantee you that your boyfriend will die, for real, soon if you don’t assist us.” The other of the two agents said slowly, and clearly. “You were the intended victims of an attack. But you can turn the tables on the group that plotted your death, if you work with us.” The agents offered, and the girl smiled, the smile a sincere one, yet one also filled with hate. “For now.” She said, agreeing to hear out the agents.
The Order didn’t know it, but this would be the beginning of a series of events which would result in a trying time for monster hunters everywhere. This would begin the Order War.
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