Novel & Cerita My S Class Hunters

Not even Hunter has dared trespass. Taking a cup of coffee from the coffee maker, I prepare a couple cups and think about what I’m going to say to Stryker. Hunter walks in minutes later. He’s wearing his usual band shirt and grunge jeans over his slender form. Hunter is in his early twenties. He’s also one of the best tech hackers in the world. I found him working at a Pep Boys several years ago fixing computers for extra cash while doing illegal side hacking. I had done some background work on him before I brought him into the fold. He has been an invaluable asset since. He lived in the garage for a couple of years before he fell in love. He and his girlfriend, Maleah, are sickeningly perfe

a voice barked over the guards' shoulder radios. Sean’s guards didn't hesitate. They didn't shout warnings. They simply moved. Two guards shoved Tracy into the armored SUV while the other two opened fire. They weren't using standard bullets; they were using high-impact kinetic rounds designed to shatter bone and stop a man in his tracks without killing him instantly. The first hunter took a round to the chest, falling back into the van with a sickening crunch. The second tried to return fire, but his rifle was knocked from his grip by a precise shot to his forearm.

Lukas was done when two people spoke “ I don't agree with her being our Luna” they said in unison “ What your reason” I can see he is trying to control his anger “She’s human.” They spoke in unison and people began t o murmur. “She’s a hunter.” “She’s weak.”

There’s a faint, resinous tang in the air—old iron, oiled wood, and what I can only as gunmetal. I approach slowly, drawn instinctively to the table, but something about the arrangement makes me hesitate. Swords, knives, axes, blunt instrument hybrids I can’t name, their shadows pooling on the dark tabletop like stains. A half-wall of glass-fronted cabinets along one side displays even stranger things: what looks like a flintlock rifle, a crossbow the size of a cello, an array of silver-tipped arrows in a velvet cradle. “Hunters are matched to their weapon,” Edward says, coming to stand beside me. “But it’s not like picking out shoes. It’s more… ancestral.”

Each clean shot represented a pack member fighting through pain and weakness to protect their own. The black market arsenal he'd acquired over the years—fifty Barrett M82/M107s, fifty CheyTac M200 Interventions, fifty Accuracy International AX50s, fifty McMillan TAC-50s, and fifty Sako TRG 42s—now proved their worth. Enough firepower to wage a small war, and they were using every bit of it.

I glanced at him, my eyes wide with curiosity and confusion, and he swiftly enlightened me. “As a symbol of my being a hunter, I offer each member of the family a weapon they are better accustomed to wielding. Even though you may not consider yourself a hunter ‘officially’, you undoubtedly are one to others. Because being a Cadwell will instantly label you as one.” He added as I continued to stare at the gun in front of me. Although I feel confident using this weapon, I still find it hard to accept that Grandpa will ever hand one to me. So I’m a hunter, huh? I am not an official member, but since I am also a Cadwell, I am still considered as one.

I whispered as fidgeted with my fingers "Well don't look so glum I'm here to give you a second chance if your willing to take it, it's your choice" "What do you mean" "I mean you have a choice if you wanna become a hunter, here we are at the hunter institute where we recruit and train people to become hunters to defend threats to the supernatural and human community " I just stared at him as he continued "There are also hunters that are part of an elite group called assassin hunters, they are few but they are the strongest and most powerful of all the hunters , chris here is part of that group", he glanced at chris then back to me "he's a vampire with special abilities one of them being he c

“Football won’t be there forever. I know you big bad wolves are all about hand-to-hand, or maybe paw, combat, but have you ever let a few rounds loose on a range?” “Like shooting?” “Yeah, shooting. Pistols, rifles, bows... anything.” “No. We do great without the need of weapons so not really high up on our training priorities.” “You should try it sometime. It’s good for more than training. It can be cathartic.” “I’ll keep that in mind. Is that what you do?” “Yep. We do our own reloading so it’s not as expensive, but it definitely helps. Especially from having to deal with these city boys that don’t know a damn thing about the wilderness and expect a hunt to be easy.”

IN THE BEGINNING May 21st, 2010 It was around five thirty in the evening when he reached the diner, the clouds clustered in a blur dark grey, the rain bounced off the windscreen as the whipers swished side to side in an attempt to see clearly. He switched the engine off, stepping out of the large black pickup truck. Authority radiated from his tall, muscular frame, his slicked his dirty blonde hair back as the rain soaked it. His hazel eyes held a hint of anger, a human had come into his diner and held a gun to one of his sixteen year old waitresses. The police had to get involved, there were two police cars out the front of the diner.

“I'm a fucking werewolf hunter now.” Once the other orders are cancelled, they make their way to the only manufacture in the country to make live silver bullets. “You boys are werewolf fantasy writers?” The owner asks as they enter the warehouse. “No, we are police detectives so we can transport this much live ammo,” Huck says, flashing his badge and credentials. “Makes sense, so you doing it for your girls?” The guy chuckles. “And my boyfriend,” Sawyer says, with a smile. “Lucky guy,” One of the box loaders winks at Sawyer.