Larry Correia - Monster Hunter Vendetta

With their animated troops falling apart and the source of their magic gone, the Condition forces were done for.

I got shakily to my feet and picked up Abomination.

My nemesis seemed to be choking, clouds of flies spewing from his mouth with every heave. He retched, and a dead leech thing fell out of his mouth, fading away into nothingness on impact. Shadowy shapes rose from him like steam, red eyes blinking, before drifting off in fear. Hood was being abandoned by all of the Old Ones' servants. I stopped directly in front of him. Above us, the Tree still loomed; the gunfire suggested MHI was still battling the now outmatched cultists, but this part here was my job to finish. "Why?" He looked up, black fluids leaking from his nose and ears. The substance that had kept him immortal was dissipating. "Why has he forsaken me?"

"Because he's dead."

He gagged on the demon oil. "Impossible."

I shrugged. "Shit happens."

Hood was sobbing, shaking. He knew I was telling the truth. "I studied them for so long. They couldn't be defeated. Their victory was inevitable. Inevitable! I couldn't stop them, nobody could. I sold my soul to protect this world."

"You got a bum deal."

"Then you come along… so stupid. So nonchalant about the ultimate gift you've been given. I had to work for my gifts. I had to bloody sacrifice. Fight and scrimp for every last bit of knowledge." It was like his body was breaking down as the realization of defeat hit him. "Your way could only end in blood and fire. My way led to utopia. I did what I had to do."

"You're no martyr," I said, cradling my shotgun. "Don't tell me you did what you had to do. You did what you wanted to do."

"Curse you, Pitt!" He surged to his feet, stumbling at me. His hands landed on my shoulders but his black eyes widened in surprise as Abomination's silver bayonet was driven through his chest. "I… I …"

He rested his head on my shoulder and bled down my armor.

The funeral was on an appropriately rainy day. Grandmother stood at my side, never letting go of my hand, as Father and Mother's caskets were put in the dirt. The caskets were closed, since the acid of the thing inside the pentagram had burned their faces into nothing but strands of meat and jelly.

The priest continued his litany, droning on, saying the same thing that his ancestors had said since Martin Luther himself had last stuck men in the ground. Eventually he was done, and the sky over Birmingham erupted into a downpour. The pitiful few who had gathered for the ceremony bolted for safety.

The two of us stayed, watching the fresh dirt churn into mud. One old crone and one twelve-year-old child dressed in black, pathetic in the rain.

Grandmother bent down and whispered in my ear. "Let them go, Martin."

I shook my head, water running down my face.

She squeezed my fingers hard. "Listen to me, child. Your father trifled with things beyond his understanding, and he paid dearly. Don't make the same mistakes he did. Let it go. I know he educated you in his dark ways and his dark books, but he was a fool."

I thought about the thing coming out of the basement floor. Grandmother was the fool, not Father. He understood what was out there and he had passed that information on to me. The Elder Things didn't need to be feared, they just needed to be understood. And understanding could lead to control.

I could control them.

"Your parents reside with the devil now because of their terrible sins."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"I tried to burn your father's evil book, for your own good, of course, but it wouldn't burn. So I gave away all his things to those Americans who destroyed the creature. They said that they would put them someplace safe, where nobody else would meddle with them."

Those were mine. "Yes, Grandmother. What were those brave Americans called?"

"Monster Hunter International. You owe them your life, you know."

"I know." And they owe me my father's book… I vowed then on my father's grave that I would regain my birthright. Someday I would find these Monster Hunters and take back what was rightfully mine. "Can we go home now, Grandmother? I'm very cold."

"Yes, Martin."

I jerked the bayonet out in a flash of red human blood.

Martin Hood let go, stumbled back, and pressed his hands against his chest. The blood just kept coming. He sank slowly to his knees, staring at me in disbelief.

"I… forgot what pain… felt like…"

Pain was a burning village littered with orc bodies. Pain was what the families of his innocent victims were feeling. Pain was what my brother felt when his fingers had been sawed off. Pain was one of the many things he had stolen from Carlos. Pain was what G-Nome had felt when the doppelganger had ripped into him. Pain and death and suffering were all that Martin Hood had left in his wake.

Pain was his legacy.

"Sucks, don't it?" I whispered.

Then the High Priest of the Sanctified Church of the Temporary Mortal Condition fell on his face and died.

I stood over him, bayonet dripping. Julie approached with a limp, raised her M14 and mercilessly ripped an entire magazine of silver. 308 into the body. I hate to admit that I flinched at the blasts. "Just in case," she said.

"Of course," I responded.

The Tree above us shuddered, insect limbs cracking. The blackness above the branches slowly dissipated on the wind, revealing stars. The nearby roots went from green, to brown, and then finally to gray within a matter of seconds, leaving the mutation with the consistency of cold stone. Mighty Arbmunep was finished, returned to the same hibernation that it had existed in for all of recorded history. Deprived of their magic and their undead war machines I knew that the cultists were now going to get the ever-living hell kicked out of them by a bunch of pissed-off and heavily armed Hunters.

Franks stepped up to the pulped body and thumped it with his boot. "Looks like shadow boy wasn't as bright as he thought he was."

Julie and I exchanged glances. "Bright?" I responded. "Look, dear, Franks made a joke."

"Fascinating," she responded, but she was mostly listening to her radio earpiece. "Sounds like the Condition is retreating, but our people are scattered and trying to regroup. A bunch are missing where the roots landed." I knew that she was thinking of her little brother. "We've got to find them."

There still had to be bunches of monsters lurking out there. Any Hunter who was alone was vulnerable. "We'd better hurry."

Franks rolled Hood over and began patting down the bloody robes. I knew immediately that he was looking for the artifact. I unconsciously stepped back. The Dread Overlord itself might be dead, but who knew what else that little thing was capable of. "Keep that damn box away from me."

The big man scowled. "It's not here."

"Looking for this?"

The three of us spun toward the voice. It was the girl, Lucinda, Hood's daughter. She had lost her ceremonial headpiece and her black robes were in muddy tatters. She was crying as she held up the artifact. It glowed with an unnatural black light in the fog. She was barely an adult.

"Drop it," Franks ordered as a 10mm Glock materialized in his hand.

"You killed him…" she wailed. "You murdered my father!"

"I did," I responded slowly. "And you'll die too, if you don't put that box down and step away from it."

"You'll pay for this. All of you will pay! He was a good man," Lucinda cried. "The Exalted Order will rise again and come for you."

"Gonna be hard since we just blew up your god."

"Lies!"

"Your father was an idiot. Now give up before you get hurt." I really didn't want to see Franks blow away a girl who was probably still a teenager. "Listen to me."

"My father was a good man!"

"Your dad was a complete psycho. Listen, girl, I can relate," Julie responded coldly. She had family missing out there amongst the roots. "But I really don't have time for this. Franks, you got the shot?"