Monster Hunter Legion-eARC (2 page)

They were Monster Hunters. A Hunter gives off a certain vibe, and these men had it. Wary, cocky, and tough, they were Hunters all right, they just weren’t as
cool
as we were. VanZant scowled at the gold
PT Consulting
embroidered on the breast of every polo shirt. “Oh, no…” he muttered. “Not these assholes.”

“Friends of yours?” I whispered as the hostess seated them a few feet away. I noticed that most of them were studying us the same way we were studying them. Apparently my table gave off that Hunter vibe too. There was a little bit of professional curiosity and sizing up going on from both sides.

VanZant wasn’t happy to see them. “They’re a startup company headquartered in L.A. They’ve been around about a year. Loads of money, all the newest toys. They’re professional, but…”

From the look on Green’s face, he didn’t like PT Consulting much either. He spoke a little louder than he probably should have. “Their boss is a real prick and they’ve been weaseling in on some of our contracts. They’ll swipe your PUFF right out from under your nose if you aren’t careful.”

A few of them seemed to have overheard that, and there was some hushed conversation from the other table as they placed their drink orders. “Easy, Green,” VanZant cautioned his hotheaded friend before turning back to me. “PT Consulting is prickly. They’ve got this modern
bushido
code of the warrior culture going on. They take themselves real seriously. Their owner is a retired colonel who got rich doing contract security in Iraq. When he learned the real money was in PUFF, his company switched industries, lured away a bunch of MCB with better pay, and set up shop in my backyard.”

“You don’t sound like a fan…”

“He gives mercenaries a bad name, and MHI is mercenary and proud. I’d call him a pirate, but that’s an insult to pirates.”

“Prick works,” Green supplied again. “Thieving pricks, the bunch of them.”

I noticed a couple of angry scowls aimed in our direction from some former Monster Control Bureau agents sporting PT shirts. They recognized us too. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing a T-shirt with a big MHI Happy Face on it.
Oh well, not my problem.
I just wanted to enjoy my second plate of steak, sushi, and six species of shrimp.

The oldest of the PT men got up and approached my end of the table. He was probably in his early fifties, but built like a marathoner, sporting a blond buzz cut and suntan lines from wearing shades. His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “Well, if it isn’t Monster Hunter International. What an unexpected pleasure to run into you gentlemen here. Evening, John.”

VanZant nodded politely. “Armstrong.”

Armstrong scanned down our table, sizing us up. Unlike his company, my guys were dressed randomly and casual, except for Cooper and Nate being dressed fancy so that the single young guys could try to pick up girls later, and the Haights looking like they were on their way to a rodeo. Armstrong saw Gregorius sitting toward the middle and gave a curt nod. “Hey, I know you from Bragg…Sergeant Gregorius, right? I didn’t know you’d joined this bunch.”

We had recruited Gregorius after the battle for DeSoya Caverns, where he’d been attached to the National Guard unit manning the roadblock. Apparently he knew Armstrong in a different professional capacity, but judging from the uncomfortable expression on Gregorius’ face, he shared VanZant’s opinion of the man. “Evening, Colonel. Wife didn’t want me sitting around the house retired and bored. This sounded like fun.”

Armstrong’s chuckle was completely patronizing. “I didn’t recognize you with that beard. You look like Barry White. Staying busy, I hope,” he said as he scanned over the rest of us. He paused when he got to me. I was pretty sure I’d never met him before, but I am rather distinctive-looking and had developed a bit of a reputation in professional Monster Hunting circles, some of which was even factual. So it wasn’t surprising to be recognized. “You’re Owen Zastava Pitt, aren’t you?”

“In the flesh.”

“I’m Rick Armstrong.” He said that like it should mean something.
Rick Armstrong.
Now that was a proper superhero secret-identity name. “I’m CEO of PT Consulting.” I stared at him blankly. I looked to Trip, but my friend shrugged. “PT Consulting…”

“Potato Tasting?” I guessed helpfully.

“No. It’s—”

“Platypus Tossing?”

“Paranormal Tactical,” he corrected before I could come up with another.

“Nope.” I shrugged. Armstrong seemed let down, but tried not to let it show. What did he expect? I was too busy battling the forces of evil to pay attention to every new competitor on the block. Julie took care of the marketing, I was the accountant. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Oh, it will.” He smiled that fake little smile again. “I’m sure we’ll have some teaming opportunities in the future.”

I didn’t know this Armstrong character, but something about him simply rubbed me the wrong way. Plus, VanZant’s opinion was trusted, and if one of our team leads said that they were assholes, that was good enough for me. “You should leave me your card, you know, in case we’re too busy doing something big and important and a little case pops up that we don’t have time to pay attention to.” I can be a fairly rude person when I just don’t give a crap.

“Well, MHI is
established
…” Armstrong said, meaning
old
. So that was how it was going to be. “But we’re the fastest growing Hunting company in the world. We’ve got experienced men, a solid business plan, financial backing, the best equipment, and top leadership.”

“Nifty. I should buy some stock.”

“Speaking of leadership, there’s a rumor going around about MHI’s.” The way he said that sounded particularly snide.

“Oh?” I raised a single eyebrow. This conversation was cutting into my precious shrimp time. “What about our leadership?”

“Word is that Earl Harbinger’s been off his game lately. I heard he disappeared for a few months, came back depressed and missing a finger. Rumor is that he had something to do with that incident up in Michigan. You know, that
mine fire
”—he made quote marks with his fingers—“that killed half a town in their sleep, or so the MCB said. I’d hate to think that was one of his cases that went bad.”

Sure, Earl hadn’t been the same since Copper Lake, but that was none of Armstrong’s business. I didn’t know all the details about what had happened in Michigan, but I knew enough to know that Earl wasn’t
off his game,
he was
angry.
A government agency that he didn’t want to name had put his girlfriend into indentured servitude.

“Maybe Harbinger’s thinking about hanging it up? That would be
such
a shame. A real loss for our whole industry.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along your concern. Because, wow, if Earl Harbinger were to retire, who would men like you look to for inspiration?” I gave him a polite nod that I intended to say
shove off, dirtbag
. “See you at the conference.”

“Tomorrow then. Looking forward to it. I’ve got work to do. You boys have a nice supper.” He went back to his table to say goodbye to his men. I swear half of them had to resist the urge to salute.

“I
hate
him so much,” Gregorius said softly, but didn’t elaborate further.

“Well, you do sorta look like Barry White,” Cooper told him. He flinched when Gregorius thumped him in the arm.

Soon enough our conversations had picked back up, and if anything, were even louder than before. Milo called my cell to tell me that he would be here soon, and that he and some of the Newbies he’d picked up at the airport would be joining us for dinner. I’d met the crazy elf girl, Tanya, when she’d impersonated an elven tracker to tag along on one of our jobs. She and Edward had saved some kids that had blundered into a pocket dimension filled with telepathic fey monsters. She was the first elf MHI had ever hired, which I still wasn’t convinced was entirely a smart move, but Milo assured me that she would easily be able to pass for human in public. The other Newbie was named Jason Lacoco, a name I recognized as the Briarwood Hunter Earl had recruited during the Copper Lake incident, but who I hadn’t met yet. I told Milo I’d have the hostess pull up another table.

By the time I put my phone away, Green was telling a very animated and inappropriate story, and using a cream puff for special effects purposes. Most of my group was laughing loudly at him. The PT men were all stoically chewing, glaring his way occasionally. Apparently the modern warrior code meant you weren’t supposed to carry on in such a manner in public.

I was filling plate number three with nachos, potstickers, and mozzarella sticks when Nate came up beside me. He had been sitting at the far end of the table, so had missed my chat with the PT leader. “Hey, Z. I need your help with the black-shirt dudes.”

“What do you mean?”

“They keep eyeballing us.”

“It’s because we’re so damned handsome, Nate. They just can’t help themselves.”

“You say so, but they seem
angry
.”

I looked over as Green downed another beer, belched loudly, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Trip seemed distressed and everyone else was amused. Trip, ever the voice of reason, seemed to be trying to get Green to quiet down. VanZant’s seat was empty. He’d probably gone to the bathroom and left our drunken vice cop momentarily unsupervised. A few of the PT consultants were looking fairly belligerent at this point. “Is Green trying to pick a fight?”

Nate sighed. “He’s still mad about a job his team did all the dangerous work for, but PT swooped in and claimed the PUFF at the last minute. Green was personally out twenty grand and one of their team almost got drowned by a giant squid in the process.”

“So you don’t need my help with Pontoon Tactical, or whatever their name is, you need help controlling some of our men. Look, why don’t you go tell Green to chill out? You are a Shackleford. This is your family’s company.” I know Earl was expecting a lot from Nate, as he was the one expected to carry on the Shackleford family name. That was a lot of pressure, especially since his big sister pretty much ran the nuts and bolts of the operation already. Nate was tough and enthusiastic, but still trying to figure out his place in the company. The tall young man looked sheepishly at his shoes. “But you won’t…Because you don’t want to come off as the boss’s grandson and annoying wet blanket on everyone’s good time…”

“Reverse nepotism is a hell of a thing. I’m still low man on the totem pole. I say anything and I’ll just come off as a whiner trying to throw Julie’s weight around.”

“If you imply Julie is heavy, she will shoot you.” I knew that wasn’t what he meant. Besides, Julie was in great shape. My wife was a 5'11" Amazon warrior southern belle art-chick sniper. “And you know she doesn’t miss much.”

“You know what I mean,” Nate pleaded.

“Ask Holly. Nobody will mess with her.”

“Are you kidding? I think she finds the whole thing amusing. Please, Z, I don’t know all these guys very well, but they respect you.”

“I’m no team leader.” Some of us had headquarters duties above and beyond being on Hunter teams, but as far as the actual MHI org chart went, I was only the finance manager. Which put me at about the same level as our receptionist, only Dorcas had been around longer and was scarier.

“You’re also the God Slayer.”

Valid point.
Travelling to another dimension and blowing up a Great Old One did earn you some cool points with this bunch. “Leadership sucks sometimes, Nate. You’re going to have to get used to it.” His older sister would have simply kicked everyone into line, but the youngest Shackleford hadn’t found his groove yet. He’d been a Hunter longer than I had, but it was tough to grow up in the shadow of legends. “All right, fine. Just let me grab some more fish sticks.”

By the time I’d plopped back down in my seat, I could tell that Green had clearly egged the two nearest PT Hunters on to the point that they were itching for a confrontation. The man certainly had a gift. I could sense there was ugly in the air. Normally that wouldn’t bother me too much, but we were supposed to be professionals, we were outnumbered, and I was pretty sure that I recognized one of the PT men from watching Ultimate Fighting on TV.

“Z, that one dude keeps looking at me!” Green exclaimed, voice slurred. “He must think I’m sexy!” Then he looked over at the Ultimate Fighter and licked a cream puff suggestively.

The Ultimate Fighter got up quickly, and Green, being stupidly fearless at this point, did too. Trip intercepted Green, and one of the PT Hunters grabbed the Ultimate Fighter’s arm. I, and my tray of goodies, stepped between the two sides as I tried to play peacemaker. “Whoa! Easy, man.”

The Ultimate Fighter bumped me and I got Thai peanut sauce on my shirt, and most of my food landed on the floor. It says something about how much I’ve matured over the last couple of years that I didn’t knock him the hell out for wasting such precious cargo. About half of the PT Hunters got up quickly. On my side the Haights and Gregorius jumped up, looking eager, while the rest of my side had that inevitable resigned look of
I’d better help my idiot friends
on their faces. Say what you will about Hunters, they always have your back. “Everybody, relax. No harm meant. My friend’s just had a few too many.”

Trip dragged the sputtering Green back into his chair. Luckily, Trip was the stronger of the two.

I tried to defuse the situation. “I’ve seen you on TV, right? Light heavyweight. You were great. I love that stuff—”

“Keep your idiot on a leash,” Ultimate Fighter snarled as he was guided to his seat. “Uncivilized Alabama rednecks.”

I thought that Green was a Californian, but saying so probably wouldn’t have helped matters. In fact, I think Nate was the only native Alabaman at the table, and he was well spoken and wearing a tie. I sat down. “Green, you dumbass. Chill the hell out already or I swear I’ll break
another
one of your bones.”

“Sorry, Z. It isn’t my fault they’re such jackasses. I was just telling everybody about how PT is a bunch of no-good, backstabbing, lying cheats, and Armstrong is a thieving sack of—”