Miami - Sun, Sand...Hurricane?

[bastian]

Florida was supposed to be the sunshine state, so imagine Bastian’s surprise when he found himself driving through a monsoon. The entirely too chipper weather girl on the radio was talking about Hurricane Jack and how people shouldn’t be out driving, but in a secure area. Well Bastian was not in a secure area. Rain was slamming in white sheets onto his car, the wind swirling so hard it was ripping palm fronds from trees.

Bastian had headed down to Miami after getting a text from his sister, Simi. She had mentioned heading down this way for a hunt and Bastian needed to talk to her. She’d been avoiding him lately. That meant something was wrong. He had a bad feeling in his gut, and the more she avoided him the worse it got.

Another palm frond flew off a tree and into the middle of the room. Cursing, Bastian slammed on the breaks, cutting the wheel from slamming his baby into it. He was driving his 2009 classic cherry red mustang, with black racing stripes, through a fucking hurricane! That did not make him happy at all. Especially since as soon as he reached Miami he texted his sister to find out where she was staying only to find out she’d decided to grab a hunt on the completely opposite side of the country.

Driving around the debris, Bastian pulled into an above ground parking garage, the only place his baby would have any protection from the storm. It took him an hour but he finally found a parking spot. Grabbing his duffel bag out of the truck, Bastian went back into the storm. There was a shelter a block away, and fairing against the harsh winds and flying shrubbery was not Bastian’s idea of a good time.

The shelter was actually Lincoln Highschool. Bastian pounded on the doors and was able to get inside the gym. They offered him some water and towels, which Bastian was happy to take. Going over he found an empty cot and sat down, rubbing his head with the towel.

Bastian grumbled to himself about Simi. “Naked mermaids my ass.” Not that he had actually thought she was going after naked mermaids, but hey, it was Miami. He figured he’d at least be able to see some hot chicks in string bikini’s walking the beach. Hurricane Jack had taken care of that for him too. Not he was stuck in the gym with crying babies, whining kids, and no privacy what so ever.

The lights flickered and Bastian’s hair stood on end. His shoulders tensed. Bastian had a magnum in the small of his back, a knife hooked to his belt, and two more in his boots. He never went anywhere unarmed. In the bag though he had a sawed off shot gun, rock salt, holy water and an assortment of other supplies he may need.

“First hurricane?” An elderly woman asked from two cots over.

Bastian put on his award winning smile to put her at ease. “How can you tell?”

She smiled back at him, her face wrinkled from long days spent in the sun and her silver hair pulled into a bun. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.” She waved her hand at the over head lights. “They’ll flicker every now and then. It’s only a category three so hopefully we won’t lose power completely, though many of the residential homes probably will. Plus they’ve got a back up generator just in case.”

Forcing his shoulders to relax, Bastian nodded at her. “Thanks for the information.” He flashed her another smile and she blushed.

“Oh, if you stick around long enough you’ll get used to it.”
The lights flickered again. Bastian’s instincts were on edge. Maybe because of Simi. Maybe there was something going on. Either way he wasn’t going to let his guard down till the storm was over. Something just didn’t feel right.

[Florian Raniari]

The storm shook the gymnasium.

Sastre sat cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, one hand wrapped around a warm, styrofoam cup of hot chocolate, the other clutching tightly to the sawed-off shotgun he concealed beneath said blanket. Once again, he flexed the muscles of his legs and back, to be sure that he wouldn't cramp up when the time for action came; he was, after all, not as young as he used to be. He sighed, taking a long drink of the hot beverage (almost draining the small cup in one gulp) and sighing in pleasure.

He had learned, long ago, to enjoy every small bit of comfort he could get.

Opening his eyes once again, he studied the layout of the gym for what must have been the thousandth time since he'd arrived hours ago. His sharp grey eyes marked out the position of every cot, the fastest path to every exit, and every potential obstruction should he need to head anywhere in a hurry. He closed his eyes, visualizing his surroundings in his mind, satisfied that he had everything as memorized as possible.

Upon opening his eyes yet again, the old hunter scanned the crowd for anything unusual. He cursed the circumstances that had led the city to turn this particular high school into a hurricane shelter, for now his job would become much more difficult. Oh yeah, and forget about the fact that they'd crammed the place full of potential victims.

Perfect... Sastre thought to himself, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. How cliche is this? A haunted building, a storm raging outside, and a crowd of people already so afraid that they're jumping at every little sound... For a moment he found himself amused by the fact that all of these people were already so on edge, and the ghost hadn't even shown himself yet.

Speaking of frightened civilians, Sastre turned his attention to the newest addition to the flock of sheep, a short-haired, well-built young man who was drenched to the bone from the unending torrent of rain that battered away at the world outside. He chuckled to himself as a particularly loud boom of thunder caused the lights to flicker, and the new-come youngster nearly jumped out of his skin. Poor kid.

The flicker of the lights did bring Sastre's mission back to the forefront of his mind, though, and he readied himself yet again for action. If the ghost was going to strike, it would most likely be when the lights went out for good, in that brief moment of darkness before the generator kicked in. He flexed his fingers on the shotgun beneath the blanket, resisting the urge to triple check the rock-salt shells that he'd loaded earlier in the day. Yes, he was as ready as he'd ever be.

Time passed, and the storm grew in ferocity. Several times, young city volunteers came to him with fresh cups of cocoa and cookies, all of them smiling at him, trying to conceal the pity in their eyes. He shrugged it off, as always. He knew what he looked like, but he had chosen this lifestyle, and he wouldn't have it any other way. His gaze flicked to the young man who had arrived earlier, and he smiled to himself as he noticed the way that several of the younger, female volunteers looked at him as they passed.

Ah, to be young again...

Suddenly, a bone-jarring crack of thunder was followed immediately after by a total black out. Gasps and cries of shock rang out throughout the gymnasium, accompanied even by a frightened scream or two. A minute or two passed, and the lights remained out. Sastre rose slowly into a crouch, casting aside the blanket and readying his weapon.

A blood-curdling scream tore through the darkness, entirely different than the shocked yells of moments earlier. It was followed by ominous silence.

Sastre was instantly on the move, his eyes closed as he ran through the crowded darkness, using the mental "map" that he'd made as a guide. Once or twice he crashed into an individual that had wandered away from the position they'd occupied before the lights went out, but the hunter continued on, moving swiftly toward the place from which the scream had emanated.

He was there!

He opened his eyes, spinning about with his gun held out before him in both hands, seeking any sign of the restless spirit that had surely just struck. Sounds of confusion were beginning to rise from the crowd, but Sastre blocked them out as he continued to search for the ghost. He knelt down, feeling around on the hard-wood floor for the person who had screamed minutes earlier. His hand brushed warm flesh, the calf of a young woman more than likely, and just as he was about to search her for vital signs, something dreadful happened.

The lights came back on.

Perfect, Sastre thought, mentally cursing as the attention of everyone in the crowd suddenly turned to him. He shook his head, knowing exactly what it was that they all saw:

A shabby old drifter, armed with a shotgun, in the process of feeling-up an attractive (and unconscious) young woman.

Perfect...

[AJ Robertson]

Really? SERIOUSLY? A FREAKING HURRICANE??

Leave it to Coulter to get her into this sort of mess. She should have known that any favor to Jess would land her smack dab in the middle of some major disaster. The woman owed her.. .BIG TIME!


Shaking her head, AJ Robertson made herself comfortable along a far wall in the huge gymnasium and crossed her legs. Her attention was on the various people moving about and her shades were pulled down low over her eyes. Dressed in black leather pants, a crimson halter top and her hair pulled up in a messy clip, she knew she passed for any other Miami beach college student.

Like that saying... What the others didn't know wouldn't kill them, right? Righttttttttttt. Unlike whatever it was that was currently stalking the inhabitants of this cozy little weather tomb.

Letting her head thump back against the cement wall, the petite beauty sighed heavily and then felt in her bag for the sawed off shotgun that held her rock salt. It was safe and sound along with the holy water canteen and other various weapons she used in her everyday "career".

Happy Happy Joy Joy. Sarcasm R Us, here we come!

As the lights flickered once again, Aj decided that the time was probably coming to move and drew her black leather coat up around her. When full darkness fell with another flicker, she shot to her feet, shuffled the gun under her coat and waited for the inevitable.

Sure enough, a scream rang out and she moved cautiously through the masses as hysteria started in. Crap.... Every hunters nightmare... A room full of civilians and an endless supply of victims. Not to mention about a 99 percent chance of a hunter landing in FUBAR country without even a paddle to see him, or her, through as they tried to save the panicked masses.

God she loved her job. NOT!

When the lights suddenly came back on, she blinked owlishly for a moment before her gaze landed on the scene before her. Inwardly, she wanted to roll her eyes. Some freaky old man was coping a feel and THAT was what this was all about? Nah, she decided as her gaze landed on his gear and she blinked again.

Well fuck a duck... It looked like the calvary had already arrived and proceeded to land himself in a mess of trouble. Greattttttttttttt... If that didn't make her job all the harder. How the HELL were they going to convince the already skittish people that he was just trying to help the woman instead of take advantage of the circumstances?

Blowing out a breath, AJ looked around and said aloud.

"Let me guess??? Your a vet and when you heard the woman's scream, you rushed over to help her? Did you feel or hear anything when you got here?"

Ok, so THEY both knew what kind of VET she was talking about but hopefully the others would assume a military vet... Which, actually... they were.. in a twisted... screwed up way.


As she looked at him, her gaze was drawn to a tall, well built man just off to the side and she felt her eyes widen. Bastian? Blair? HERE?? She'd seen him around the Coulters a time or two but.... This was getting weirder by the minute.

[bastian]

When the lights went out, Bastian was already on his feet, his hand gripping the handle of the gun in the waist band of his jeans. His little bag of hunter tricks was still at his feet. People were screaming, chaos ensuing. This was not a prime time to be pulling his gun, so he just kept his hand at the ready.

When the lights came back on people moved over to an older man, crowding around him in a semi circle. Bastian made his way over and saw the woman lying on the floor at his feet. Kneeling down he put two fingers to her neck sighing in relief when she had a pulse. Maybe she had just gotten frightened and passed out? She didn’t seem to have any visible marks on her.

The man standing over her though was pretty rough looking and held a sawed off in his hands. He was looking around, as if waiting for something to jump out of the shadows. Bastian knew that look. He’d seen it in the mirror often enough. It could mean he was a hunter. Or maybe he was crazy. Maybe he was both.

Then there was the hot chick with the long brunette locks that was staring at him. She looked familiar and Bastian tried to peg where he’d seen her before. Maybe the hunters academy? She seemed about his age.

The mob began advancing on the older man and Bastian quickly reached into his bag, pulling out one of his many fake ID’s. This particular one was an FBI badge. Could for most any occasion. “Whoah, hold up folks!” Standing, he held the badge out for the crowd to see. “Just take a step back, please!”

Chaos in unorganized, frightened mobs was not something that they wanted or needed. One of the EMT’s at the shelter was already pushing through the crowd with a med kit. Bastian quickly moved out of the way and went to stand by the older man and the hot chick.

He didn’t want to out and out ask the man if he was a hunter. If he was great, but if he wasn’t, Bastian didn’t want to seem like a crazy person. Talking about supernatural ghosts and monsters to an already nervous crowd would just make thing worse. Bastian gestured for the man to follow him off to the side, at the very least to make it seem like he was going to question him.

The truth was there may be nothing going on here. For all anyone knew the chick tripped when the lights went out and face planted in front of the older man and that could very well be what actually happened. Then again there could be something more sinister behind it. Bastian didn’t know yet.

He looked at the older man. “What happened?”

It was a simple question. One that could have very many explanations. Bastian was waiting to hear what the man would say when the lights flicked out again. This time he did pull his gun, but kept it aimed down, trying to listen past the screams of terror and random obscenities. Flash lights flicked on, illuminating the gym.

The girl who has just been on the floor was now standing, the EMT who had been working on her dead at her feet, his neck sticking at an odd angel. People gasped and backed away as the girl stared wildly, looking around. Bastian aimed his gun at her. So maybe she wasn’t as clumsy as she seemed.

Being trapped in a hurricane with a psychotic something or other with a scared mob. Yeah this is how he wanted his Miami experience to go. "I'm gonna kill, Simi," He muttered to himself.

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre's eyes widened in shock as he looked at the previously-unconscious girl.

"Well," he said softly, so only Bastian could here him. "I wasn't expecting that." He looked over at the younger man and smirked. "I suppose I might owe you my life 'officer.' " He then returned his attention to the girl, noting the crazed look in her eye and the slightly erratic way she moved. His grey eyes then flicked over to the young woman who had first came to his defense, only moments earlier.

Still speaking softly, so as not to alarm the crowd any more than they already were, Sastre said, "It seems the three of us are all in the same line of work. Unless, of course, you're a real FBI agent and my instincts just aren't what they used to be." He fell silent, looking at the young man, the same young man whose fear of the flickering lights had so amused him earlier. At least it made sense now.

"I'm Sastre. Sastre Quicksilver." He leveled his gun coolly at the deranged girl. "So... What do you think we're dealing with here?"

[bastian]

Bastian eyed the older man before his gaze went back to the woman who was still staring around wildly. He listened attentively as the other man spoke and made introductions.

He thought it was an odd time, considering the fact that they had a corpse lying at their feet and a woman who didn’t look to be quite herself. This was not a good situation to be in.
Keeping his gun aimed on the woman, Bastian took a step towards her. “Back up,” He told the crowd. “Sastre,” He said, now knowing his name. “You got salt in that bag of yours?”

Bastian figured that would answer the question as to whether he was a hunter or not. He had salt in his own bag, but if Sastre had the same arsenal it was quite possible that they were in fact in the same line of work. Sastre seemed like a veteran. If he wasn’t then he was probably just some crazy homeless man with a gun.

Right now, Bastian had to pick his battles. First things first. Deal with the erratic woman who had apparently just killed an EMT, and hope that Sastre knew what to do with the salt. Bastian didn’t know what the girl was, but salt worked against a variety of things. More than likely she wasn’t going to stand still for it, but they could try it the easy way and it would also give Bastian an idea of who all was on his side.

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre smirked when the young man asked him about the contents of his bag.

"Yeah, salt and a lot more," he said, never taking his eyes off of the apparently-possessed woman. "I've got an exorcism ritual that's worked well for me in the past as well... Trick is, I've got to have her immobilized when I do it." For the first time, his gaze leaves the woman and flicks around the crowd of scared, confused civilians. "And if you haven't noticed, its a bit crowded in here..."

Sastre's first thought was that when the power went off again, he would tackle the possessed woman and drag her out of the gymnasium before the lights came on. He did, after all, know the layout of the gym like the back of his hand now, and there was a nearby door that led most likely to a hallway. Away from prying eyes, he'd feel safer doing the ritual and, hopefully, saving the woman in the process. Now, though, with the back-up generator running smoothly, he wasn't sure that the power would go off again, and if it did, it certainly wouldn't stay off long enough for him to drag the woman (would would probably be resisting the whole way) off into the hallway.

No, this would have to be done differently.

"Kid?" he whispered to Bastian. "How about showing me just how good an actor you are, and try to pass yourself off as an agent for just a little while longer. I don't care how you do it, but try and get everyone out of here." He smirked as he put away his shotgun and cautiously began retrieving several items from his bag, most notably a rosary, a vial of holy water, and a container of salt. He did this subtly, so as not to alarm the general populace, but as their attention was focused solely on the crazed woman, it seemed a wasted effort. "Tell them the place isn't structurally sound, or that the woman is sick and it may be something contagious. Or just make something up yourself; you seem like the type who can think on your feet."

His eyes then moved slowly to the young woman from earlier, the one that Sastre thought to be another hunter.

"And see if you can get her to go with you. I think she's one of us, but I can't be one hundred percent sure. I'd rather not risk my life by relying on her for back-up if she's just another civilian."

Knowing that he'd already wasted several minutes that they couldn't afford, Sastre was ready. He thanked God that the demon seemed to be having some trouble fully integrating with the woman's body, for it still stood as it had earlier, her jet-black eyes seeming to reflect nothing but madness, and her whole body twitching and moving disturbingly.

"Unfortunately," Sastre said to Bastian, his brow furrowed, "I'm not going to be able to spare them from all of this. Let them think I'm crazy... They wouldn't be the first. Oh, and try to get the hell back here as soon as you can. I hate demons as it is, but I particularly hate having to deal with them by myself."

Not waiting to see what Bastian would do, Sastre leaped into action.

Rushing headlong at the woman, he thrust the rosary out before him and, summoning up as much faith as he possibly could, he called out, "In nomen of Deus , exsisto etiam!" Instantly, the disconcerting twitching of the possessed woman stopped, and low moan escaped her lips. Sastre knew he had little time though, and that the particular command he'd laid upon her would only bind her for so long; in fact, his experiences during the Apocalypse-That-Almost-Was had taught him that this command would only hold even the weakest of demons for less than an minute. Casting the rosary aside, he began to make a circle of salt around the paralyzed woman, praying that he hadn't left any gaps, but not having the time to double check.

"Okay, now for the fun part..." Jumping into the circle, the hunter tackled the woman to the ground, pinning her legs with his own, and holding both of her hands above her head with one of his, leaving him a hand free to work. He couldn't hold her like this for long, of course, for when the demon finally broke free of the compulsion set upon it, Sastre's strength would be nothing compared to it's. Pulling the cork out of the vial of holy water with his teeth, Sastre emptied its contents upon the woman, knowing that if worse came to worse he had several more in his bag, as well as secreted upon his person. The woman roared in agony, her voice a horrifying blend of a young woman and a raspy, hollow, other-worldly being. With her bound, restrained, and weakened, Sastre began the ritual.

He prayed that it would work, for it was the only ritual that he could perform from memory, and his journal seemed half the world away in his pack. Plus, he wasn't entirely sure that he had time to perform one of the more in-depth exorcisms at the moment...

"EGO to order vos , in nomen of Jesus Sarcalogos--"

That, unfortunately, was all that Sastre got out before the demon possessed young woman heaved him off of her with all her considerable strength. The hunter was tossed back, and as he skidded across the hardwood floor of the gymnasium, he knew with a sinking certainty that he'd just been used to break his own salt circle. The possessed woman leaped nimbly to her feet, an action so precise and fast that it defied logic. Her face was contorted with a savage grin as she walked purposefully toward Sastre.

"I was wondering how long it would take before my antics here attracted the attention of you hunters," she spoke in a disconcerting dual-voice. "I knew it was risky to keep on playing here, but I was having so much fun! Besides, you're nothing but a doddering old fool anyway. I'll be rid of you soon enough--"

It was her turn to be cut off now, as the report of Sastre's shotgun echoed throughout the gym. The rock-salt round knocked her back a few steps, and she cried out in pain and irritation. Sastre, ignoring the numerous bruises that he'd just gained, stood up, keeping his gun leveled at the creature. As she shook off the gun shot and rushed toward him, he discharged the other barrel, taking her completely off her feet this time. Her body slid across the floor before rising up fluidly, her features a mask of hatred.

"Oh damn," Sastre muttered, tossing aside the now-empty shotgun and pulling another couple of vials of holy water seemingly out of nowhere. Where the hell is that kid? he wondered silently, glaring at the possessed woman.

Wherever he was, Sastre hoped he got here quick... He wasn't used to having help, or rather he hadn't been for the past several years, but in this particular situation, he would gladly accept some.

[bastian]

I'm on the front line
Don't worry I'll be fine
The story is just beginning
I say goodbye to my weakness
Hold on to no regrets
And now I know that I'm alive



Bastian’s first idea was to argue with Sastre about calling him kid. Then as he went on to explain his plan, Bastian couldn’t really disagree. They needed to get the people out of harm’s way. Bastian was the best bet of doing that. This was something that the young hunter already knew, which is why he found himself rolling his eyes at Sastre.

“Relax old man, this isn’t my first rodeo.” He put emphasis on the old man. He figured if Sastre had a nickname for him then Bastian should be able to return the favor. Bastian smirked, letting Sastre know it was all in good fun before turning to the crowd.

“All right folks, listen up,” He hollered out to the room. “We’ve got a situation here and I need you to evacuate the gym and head to the auditorium. The hallways are closed in so it’ll be safe enough, but we need to secure the area to make sure no one else is affected by whatever is making these people sick!”

“Sick?” A woman stand up clinging to her child. “What do you mean sick?”

People soon began to follow suit with random questions that Bastian didn’t have the answer to. Or rather he did, but the answers would make him sound like some wack job that escaped the local nut house and was hiding out amongst the people in the gym until the hurricane blew over and he was able to make his dastardly escape. That would most likely cause even more panic.

Bastian instead opted to continue playing the dumb fed who just happened to be in Miami on a case when a hurricane struck. “Folks, please. I need you stay calm and start moving to the auditorium all right?”

People were still talking, but the questions were no longer focused at him. They were quickly gathering the few belongings they had brought with them and heading towards the doors. Bastian would accompany them, making sure they got there with no problems and that there were no other demons lurking. Once he salted and locked the auditorium doors, he’d be back to help Sastre.

“Don’t have all the fun without me, old man.” He gave Sastre a quick salute before ushering the people out of the gym.

Once Bastian had made the people has safe as possible he took off at a dead run back down the hallway towards the gym and Sastre. The old man seemed competent enough but, the fact was that it was still a demon they were dealing with. Older hunters had a way of getting themselves killed quicker.

When Bastian entered the gym again Sastre did not seem to be in a good position. He wasn’t dead either, which was a bonus. Though he was doing a pretty good job and distracting the demon. Bastian grabbed his bag and pulled out a sawed off shot gun filled with rock salt rounds, and aimed it at her.

Instead of pulling the trigger though, he started the exorcism while Sastre had her distracted. Even if the demon bitch turned Bastian’s way, Sastre could pick up wherever Bastian stopped. The demon was going to have to bounce back and forth trying to get them to stop.

[Florian Raniari]

Sastre grinned.

It seemed that the youngster was full of surprises, and he almost laughed out loud at his simple, but perfect, strategy. By dividing the demon's attention between two would-be exorcists, it would hopefully be unable to do any serious damage to either.

As the possessed woman lunged toward the younger hunter, Sastre took up the thread of the exorcism, silently thanking fate that the stranger had known the very same ritual that Sastre had begun. Spinning and shrieking inhumanly, she attempted to rush Sastre, only to have Bastian pick up where the old man had left off.

It was comical, in a way, and Sastre almost laughed as the demon turned this way and that, unsure of exactly which hunter to attack. The exorcism seemed to be causing it a small amount of pain also, or perhaps just a bit of discomfort. Her fingers were curled into claws, and she spat and sputtered, growling out low curses and threats as she began to hunker down.

"Damn you, damn you!"[/color] the demon howled from within the woman, its deep voice blending eerily with the woman's own. "You think you can send me back to Hell, back to eternal damnation! Fools! All you have done is fuel my wrath, and the day will soon come when you will both regret your actions this day!"[/color]

Sastre ignored its words, focusing only on finishing the exorcism that he and his young ally were now speaking in unison. It was at that moment, though, that the demon let loose with a thunderous howl that shook the gymnasium and caused the lights to flicker once again. Turning her head upward, the woman opened her mouth and spewed forth a roiling cloud of thick black smoke, which drifted quickly up and through the high ceiling above, seeming to burn through it though it left no mark after it had left.

Silence dominated the make-shift shelter, disturbed only by the dull roar of the hurricane outside.

Sastre remained still for quite some time, his head tilted, listening for anything unusual against the backdrop of the storm. There was nothing. It seemed as though the demon was truly gone...

Allowing himself to relax a bit, Sastre turned his attention to his impromptu partner and flashed him a wide grin.

"Fueled his wrath, huh?" He chuckled, adding, "Real scary..." He smiled, walking around and picking up his discarded supplies. "You weren't half bad, kid, not half bad at all. I'm real glad you were here... Sorry, I don't think I got your name."

[bastian]

I'm on the front line
Don't worry I'll be fine
The story is just beginning
I say goodbye to my weakness
Hold on to no regrets
And now I know that I'm alive

Once the billowing smoke from hell had vacated the premises Bastian sighed with relief. A few were dead, but the demon was gone…at least for now. The woman was lying on the floor, demonless and breathing. She would survive. Though probably, she was going to need a good therapist. Any good therapist was probably going to fully medicated her if not just lock her up in the loony bin.

Bastian turned when Sastre began talking to and grinned at the old man’s words. He raised a brow when Sastre said he wasn’t half bad. Rolling his eyes, Bastian scoffed. “Seriously? I wasn’t half bad?” He snorted. “I was awesome. In fact I was pretty damn excellent. Pretty sure that without me, you’d be six feet under, grandpa.”

A smile played on Bastian’s lips the entire time. Sure he was confident, but he also enjoyed the reactions he got from people when they thought he was a pompous idiot. It was all in good fun. Hunting was a dark, dangerous job. He had to keep it light somehow. Even if that meant he made an ass out of himself.

Bastian extended a hand. “Sebastian Blair.” He met Sastre’s gaze when he said it and squared his shoulders a bit. Bastian was proud of his family’s legacy, but some of the older hunters know some of the other older hunters, and unfortunately everyone doesn’t get along. Even more unfortunately some of the older ones that had a grudge wanted to take it out on the younger ones who were kin to the ones the older ones hated. Bastian’s mind was going in circles. He was making himself dizzy.

Seeing no malice in the old man’s eyes though, he relaxed a bit. “My friends call me Bastian though.”