Slate
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The Pack was hunting. They weren’t hunting in the traditional sense of the word. They wouldn’t be killing the prey that they found this time. They wouldn’t even be leading it on a chase to bring it to Ethan’s preferred hunting grounds. Their prey tonight, as they all hid themselves around the the vicinity of the transfer for that night, was a new metahuman. At least, the assumption was they were a metahuman. Took a lot of strength to completely sever people's limbs and bite out their throats.
So they were stalking the human trafficking ring that had taken up shop in Pittsburgh. Based on the range of the previous attacks, the times at which they had taken place, and the police reports they had bribed their way into accessing, they were relatively confident that he was going to show up.
Initially, they had thought it was the Cryptid. After all, he was in fact known for dismantling people. There had been a burning rage among the four of them since Obsidian had brought back the remaining pieces of Malachite, since they had seen the man who never lost his cool break down and cry. Obsidian crying over Malachite, crying over his brother, crying over their oldest family member, was something that was going to stick with the Pack for the rest of their lives.
With that in mind, they had gone at this with all the preparation of taking on Cryptid. Only to discover that, well, none of the bodies were consumed in any way. So that took Cryptid out of the running, but it meant they had something else on their hands. Something that had the potential to be worthwhile.
They had spent time researching the trafficking ring, which they now knew went by the absolutely ridiculous moniker of The Black Scar. Sulphur had scoffed when they had found the name, and Lapis had gone into hysterics. Rhody’s absolute disgust was mirrored by her husband Hemie. Despite their differing reactions, they all agreed on one thing: human trafficking was a step too far for them. So instead of planning on assimilation of the ring, as they had been doing with several smaller gangs, they were planning to promise whoever was targeting them nuclear assistance.
It was with all of this in mind that they set up camp at the next confirmed drop-off for The Black Scar. Sulphur picked the tallest building in the area, a three-story warehouse across the way, and had taken to it with his sniper rifle. Rhody, Hematite, and Lapis took up varying points on the ground, dressed all in black with hoods to cover their heads and masks to cover their faces. They blended into the shadows with ease, as if they belonged there.
Even if this wasn’t a traditional hunt, they still had the violent coil of tension about them, the energy that said they were ready for a slaughter. From the top of the roof, Sulphur touched the button on the comms, turning it on. The other three already had theirs on, and Sulphur’s completed the four-way circuit. “Let’s keep this clean. We just want to talk to him. If we need to help, then we help, but otherwise maintain positions until he finishes with them.”
“Copy that, Phur.”
“Understood.”
“Roger that.”
They sat, waiting, and it didn’t take long for the Black Scar to show. They rolled in, a large eighteen-wheeler pulling into the roads between the warehouses. All in all, only really suspicious because it was almost two a.m.. It pulled in next to the warehouse they had pegged as the drop-off point, and several men climbed out of the cab. From inside the warehouse, a few more men came filing out, making ten men in all, but Sulphur’s count. The tension in each of the Pack members grew as they waited for their new metahuman to show.
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