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The Huntsman Legion │Legionnaire Log 38.97r.8: Geographic Intelligence

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Legionnaire Log 38.97r.8
Classification Label: Huntsman R7R
Subject: Geographic Intelligence

I’ve been assigned scanning for a suitable location for the Huntsman to conceal his new mission, urban pacification, from the local authorities as well as the local criminal element here in San Ternion. The requirements proposed for this location were quite exotic, as such the Huntsman has been as of yet unsuccessful in his quest thus far. Based on the outcome of the last four locations he’s transported too, all pronounced wholly inadequate by him, and considering the state of the current location I’ve presented to him here my systems indicate an additional unsuccessful outcome…..

“You take me to the nicest places Tower. You really do. What is that smell?” Tom Spenser, Huntsman R7R, jested with the artificial intelligence.

“Analyzing.” The Watchtower didn’t even notice.

“Skip it Tower, this place is all wrong anyhow.”

The Huntsman made a full rotation in the center of the dank molding basement to take it all in. Only seconds after appearing out of thin air – transporting into the sub structure, his body was still adjusting to the new environment he’d been transported into from across the city, the bitter cold air was attacking him as aggressively as the odors that waifed out of the filthy building’s moldy crevices. Shining his light around he exposed a few piles of rotting wooden shipping crates, a few pieces of broken furniture, and an old bed role presumably from a squatter transient that was more than a few days old. The location wasn’t even suitable for the homeless. Worse yet, it was not as secure as Spenser needed it to be.

“Despite your disregard for your standing orders which forbid this activity my systems have identified this location as aligned with over eighty five percent of your requirements: one hundred meters square or larger, limited or no access, hidden away from the city proper.” The Watchtower chimed in in defense of it’s findings.

“The access isn’t all that hidden or limited after all Tower. And please, enough with the standing orders routine. I was sent here to make a difference, and that is what I’ll be doing.” Spenser kicked at the bed role as he passed by it, sweeping across the remainder of the concrete sub basement with his light.

“My systems can not access local records produced with ink and paper, but the surrounding geography clearly indicates that the building that once stood above this sub basement has been knocked down and completely removed from this plot. There may not even be records of this location to research further.” The Watchtowers comms began to beep and whir with background noise as it continued to compute the data from the location they were currently at.

“Even if we could seal up the multitude of ways in and out of here, it’s too close to the river. It will always be cold, moldy, and probably flood during the rainy season.” Spenser located what he thought was a door and continued in that direction to complete his inspection.

“May I remind you that San Ternion is built at the junction of four rivers. The city proper claims over one hundred bridges within its borders. The percentage of locations fitting your description not being near a river are decreasing exponentially with each outing you take.”

“Exponentially? Wow.” Spenser thought he’d found the handle to the door in the back wall when something along the opposite edge of the cavernous sub basement caught his attention. He swung the light around in a fast arch, seeing nothing he clicked it off as the noises continued so that he could focus on listening.

“I”m telling you Jackson you’ve got the wrong girl. I didn’t hear anything. I don’t know anything, honest. I swear!” A woman squealed.

“Shut up. I’m done talking.” A gruff voice shouted, echoing off the concrete.

“Be advised I’ve detected unsubs within your vicinity Huntsman.” The Watchtower, utilizing a sub-vocal routine like a whisper in his very skull, spoke quietly directly to Spenser.

“Thanks for the tip.” Spenser whispered back. He moved behind the far set of rotting crates to wait the new arrivals passage through the sub basement.

“Your supposed to bring the food and the drinks. Wiggle a little when I tell you too but no, not you. Always looking for a new angle for your self aren’t you Roxy?.” The large man drug the woman by the arm, shouting in her face. Spenser noticed that neither of them had a light and yet the man was able to guide the woman through the mess down here with perfect execution. He’d been here before.

“I can do better, I swear.” Roxy begged, even shouted near the end of the sentence as she was dragged to the left. Hard.

“No more chances, I’m done wasting time on you.” The large man tightened his grip on the womans arm, lifted her in the air, and tossed her against the concrete wall. The wall with the door that Spenser had just come from. The large man went to work on the lock in the hidden handle.

A sound chirped in the Huntsman’s ear.

“What is it Tower?”

“My analysis of the odors within the chamber you asked for upon arrival is now complete.”

Spenser pulled out the Flechette pistol that had been strapped to his thigh only partially paying attention to the Tower’s ill timed report. He’d have to remember to use the appropriate language. Belay that, instead of “skip it”, next time and this wouldn’t happen at the worst possible moment.

“Not now Tower, prepare for…”

“It’s decaying human remains Huntsman, several different instances in fact, located in the far eastern corner which coincides with an additional cavern sixty feet deeper than the room your in now.”

Behind the door.

“No! I didn’t hear nuth’n, honest!” The woman screamed. The large man, Jackson, backhanded her like he was in a boxing ring. The impact caused the back of her head to smack up against the cement and the woman to slump to the grimy floor. Jackson bent down, pulling the woman up to his face by gripping her by the shirt front with one hand, and her hair with the other.

“I’d like to take my time with you Roxy. You know I would. But the boss don’t want it that way so it’s the garbage shoot for you.” He rumbled, laughing at his own joke, as he picked the woman up like a sack of potatoes and prepared to toss her into the hole behind the locked door.

“Freeze police!” Spenser shouted, shining the light in the back corner exposing both Jackson and Roxy who was hefted over his head.

“Let the woman go.” Spenser stated, moving into a firing position.

The large man just growled as he tossed the woman into the hole, grinning at Spenser the entire time. An instant later Spenser shot him with the Flechette pistol. A hundred needles impacted into Jackson’s body which sent him falling backwards into the hole him self after he bounced off the rough stone wall.

“No!” Spenser shouted as the events unfolded against his loose plan.

The man screamed as loudly as any woman as he began to fall and bounce again.

“Get me down there Tower.” Spenser ran toward the opening, the once locked door swinging wild.

“Specify.” The Watchtower beeped in his comm.

“The hole! Now!” Spenser dove into the air as if to dive down into the hole accept he vanished into thin air before he reached its opening.

An second later he reappeared at the bottom of the slimy chamber. Instantly Spenser was waist deep in a bath of chunky bile and mud. Jackson screaming up above him once more before he hit his head with a splat, descending down the hole in a lifeless heap that scraped and bounced along the edges. Each impact sending gobs of dank debris down atop Spenser and the woman.

Spenser only had a moment before the large man would crash down on them both. Also, he wasn’t sure how much more of the smell and taste of what was down here he could actually take before he lost it. He wanted to puke, needed to puke. Badly. Just as he was about to ask Tower to find the woman with its sensors Spenser’s hands reached her in the muck. He yanked her close to him, causing more fluid to splash up on him.

“Get us out Tower. Now.”

An instant later they were gone, seemingly vanished into thin air, the product of nothing more than a dying man’s over active imagination as he plummeted to the unconscious death he had surely caused multiple times over and no doubt deserved now.

The post The Huntsman Legion │Legionnaire Log 38.97r.8: Geographic Intelligence appeared first on The Masked Marauder Matinee Podcast.


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