Monster Hunter Siege (Monster Hunters International Book 6)

by Correia, Larry

  “Owen Z. Pitt,” Stricken said. “I figured you would be there. I hope you’re enjoying Alaska. How’s Hakuna Matata, or however you pronounce your pop’s name?”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  That was about the nicest thing I could say about Stricken. Pond scum looked down on the former leader of Special Task Force Unicorn. He was an all-around conniving, evil, manipulative dirtbag.

  “How’d you know where we are?”

  “It must be stupid question time. That’s insulting. Put your boss on already, Pitt.”

  The others had been talking and hadn’t heard his voice, but Earl had. “It better not be…”

  I turned the laptop around on the stump so they could all see. Without exception, every one of them said something insulting or profane when they saw him.

  “Well, if it isn’t the model UN of monster hunting. Look at you guys holding hands. It’s precious.”

  “Go to hell and die!” Tadeusz Byreika shouted. The leader of White Eagle Military Contracting was a big, ripped, boisterous kind of guy, nothing at all like his grandfather. “And screw yourself, Stricken!”

  “Get your order of operations straight, meathead,” Stricken replied. “Bunch of rocket surgeons you’ve collected here, Earl.”

  Earl Harbinger didn’t say a word to the man who’d practically enslaved his girlfriend, but I swear he was growling. If Stricken had actually been here, he’d be decapitated by now.

  Everybody was ticked, but Klaus remained cool. “I’m surprised to see you show your face, Stricken. Rumor has it you have been replaced. You are a wanted man.”

  “Shit happens.” Stricken shrugged his narrow shoulders. I’d only ever seen him in a suit, but oddly enough, today he was wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt. It really didn’t match his cavefish skin. “Come to think of it, I’d still have my cushy government job if that fossil Franks hadn’t beat Grimm Berlin like a rented mule. How does it feel to screw the pooch on a two-hundred-fifty-million-dollar bounty?”

  “You set us up,” Klaus spat.

  “The only thing I set you up to be was filthy rich…Hey, Yoshi,” Stricken called out to the president of Strike Team Kiratowa. “Do you Japs still do that ritual seppuku thing to atone for epic fuck-ups? Because if you do, you should walk Klaus here through the process…A quarter billion, Klaus. I mean, holy shit, that has to keep you up at nights. That’ll buy a lot of bratwurst.”

  “Pitt, mute it.” Klaus said. I hit the button, then put my thumb over the camera so Stricken couldn’t see us. The German stood up and pointed at Earl. “If STFU is involved in this mission in any way, we are out.” There was a chorus of agreement from the others.

  “Hold on. He’s not. He also ain’t Unicorn anymore. I know for a fact they want his scalp. I don’t know what this asshole wants from us. The last time I saw him, I shot him in the back. Sadly, that Stricken turned out to be a decoy.”

  “Bummer,” Byreika muttered.

  “Tell me about it,” Earl said.

  “He did not call simply to goad us. He must want something. So what do we do?” Kiratowa asked.

  “Assume any words that come out of his mouth are a filthy lie.” Apparently Darne’s perpetual good nature disappeared as soon as Stricken was involved.

  “That’s a good start,” I said. “Is there a way to trace this, maybe see if there are any clues to his whereabouts?”

  “So we can murder him?” Byreika asked hopefully.

  “I was just going to pass the info on to Franks, kick back, and enjoy the show.”

  “Stricken is too clever to slip up that easy, and even if we had Melvin here, there’s no way he’d let himself be tracked. We’ve got history. Let me do the talking.” Earl was used to just being in charge, but he realized he was talking to peers and partners, and none of these men got to where they were in this business by being slouches, so he rephrased it. “Let me do the talking with this evil bastard, please.”

  There were nods of agreement. Byreika spit on the ground.

  Earl stood up and placed himself in front of the screen. “Go.”

  I pulled my thumb off the camera and turned the sound back on.

  “Nice shirt, asshole,” Earl said.

  “You like it? I’m taking some vacation time. Use it or lose it, you know how government jobs are.”

  “The government wants you dead.”

  “Today.” Stricken waved one hand dismissively. He had long, spindly fingers. “And when they see what tomorrow holds, they’ll piss themselves in fear, and put me back in charge. You accidently create some demonic supersoldiers one time and everybody gets all butt hurt. They’ll get over it. My outfit employs things that eat souls, and you think they’re going to stay angry at me? I’m too good at what I do, and I’m the only one who knows where all the bodies are buried. In the meantime, I’ll keep on enjoying this island living.”

  “With that skin, you should soak up some rays.”

  “Good one. Hey, did you tell Klaus that right after Franks crippled a bunch of his men, MHI stitched Franks back together? Oh, from that pained expression, I’m guessing not. Yeah, Klaus, MHI screwed you over. That’s not very nice, patching up the thing who just kicked your ass, and not even having the decency to fess up about it.”

  Earl apologetically turned to Klaus. “There was a reason for the patching.”

  The German gave him a stiff nod, but he didn’t look pleased at the revelation.

  Stricken laughed. “I love sowing hate and discontent.”

  “Go to hell, Stricken,” Klaus stated.

  “I’m sensing a consensus about where all of you think I should go, but let me get to the point because I’ve got shit to do. I’ve got something you want.”

  Earl folded his arms. “Doubtful.”

  “Really? Because that fat Russian has been trying to swindle it out of every decrepit, old, retirement-home KGB agent he can find, and Rigby has been flouncing around Moscow trying to find the file, like some sort of big gay James Bond…so basically Roger Moore.”

  “Connery was the best.”

  “Finally! I knew we could find common ground, Earl. Thank you! It’s all nonsense though. Back in my spying days I never got to wear a tux and I was never once issued a watch with a laser in it. Regardless, you obviously want the Petrov Report. I’ve got a copy of the Petrov Report. What do you say we do some business?”

  I could tell Earl was thinking it over. Stricken was a puppet master, who’d been involved in every shady, crooked, shifty international intelligence deal there was. If anybody could get their hands on that report, it was Stricken. Except he was also a liar, who had previously nonchalantly condemned us all to death.

  “If it’s coming from you, it’s probably fake. And even if it ain’t, whatever you want in exchange is too much.”

  “You Hunters are so paranoid. You need to let it go, Earl. All that anger is going to prematurely age you…Oh, wait. That’s right. It won’t. Yeah, by the way, junior UN, Earl’s a werewolf. A no kidding, for real, actual alpha boss werewolf. He probably didn’t tell you that either.”

  All of the other company leaders stared at Earl, who gritted his teeth, and looked like he was about to punt-kick the laptop into the tree line. “I served my time. I earned my exemption. You’ve got no right—”

  “Whoops. You must have forgot I’m a free agent the same way I forgot you being a werewolf was classified. Feel free to file an official complaint after I get a pardon and my job back.”

  I moved to close the program. Earl held up a hand. “Wait.”

  “Ah, so you are really interested. Good, because Nikolai saw some interesting things in there. It’s special. Depending on how the stars align, that gate can get you anywhere from the Fey Lands to Jigoku. Here’s the deal, Earl. I’ve already emailed Pitt the entire original file. You’re so old I didn’t know if you knew how to use a computer. You might not believe me, but the file is legit. You knew Nikolai, so you can verify the authenticity. Believe it or not,
I don’t care. It’s all yours. Do with it as you will.”

  “What’s in it for you?”

  “I’m doing this for the good of all mankind. Contrary to what you may think about me, I’m on the side of the angels.”

  I snorted.

  The camera wasn’t pointed at me now but Stricken still knew that was me. “Up yours, Pitt. I’d love for you Hunters to succeed. Asag Shedu is currently threat numero uno and he’s no friend of mine. Anything that hurts him brings a smile to my face. You’ll more than likely fail and die on that godforsaken rock, but at least it should be amusing.” Stricken reached out for something and the call ended.

  Everybody was quiet for a few seconds, and then the shouting started.

  “We can trust nothing from Stricken!” Darne exclaimed.

  Which was simultaneous with “MHI helped Franks?” from the offended Klaus.

  And “You are a werewolf?” by the incredulous Byreika.

  Everybody was yelling at Earl. He asked them to calm down, but Earl wasn’t exactly the diplomatic sort, so it was more like telling them to shut their fool mouths. Kiratowa was the only leader not flipping out, so I just looked at him and shrugged. He returned the gesture. Normally I was the hothead, but these were all company owners so it was way over my pay grade.

  “If MHI was working with Franks in secret, then Grimm Berlin can safely assume you would work with Stricken behind our backs.”

  “Yes, Harbinger. Is this some sort of trick?”

  “Y’all need to zip it before I get angry.”

  “Werewolves are evil scum!” And even knowing he was a werewolf, Byreika had the balls to actually shove Earl, who promptly shoved back, and the much larger man landed on his ass right in the dirt.

  The only commander who wasn’t fighting seemed to be growing impatient. Kiratowa was one of those men so lean and weathered it was impossible to guess his age, so I’m talking a range like somewhere between forty and an extremely fit senior citizen. He was normally unassuming, didn’t seem to talk much, but had this sort of confident air that suggested he wasn’t somebody you wanted to mess with. Still sitting on his lawn chair, he took two orange foam plugs out of his pocket, stuck them in his ears, then drew his handgun, pointed it in the air and fired. I barely had the time to put my hands over my ears. The rest didn’t see it coming. To a man they all grabbed for a weapon.

  “Enough bickering!”

  That sure shut them right up. I didn’t approve of the bad gun safety, but I had to admit it did the trick.

  “Hey!” Darne shouted.

  “We agreed upon no new recruits for this mission, only experienced warriors, in order to avoid pointless conflict. Why bother when instead, their leaders behave like children?”

  Earl looked to the sky. “You know, that bullet is gonna land somewhere.”

  Kiratowa holstered his pistol and calmly removed the earplugs. “It is a big country. Now, let us resume acting like businessmen rather than barbarians.”

  “The ringing is worse when you don’t see it coming.” Darne stuck a finger in one ear and wiggled it around.

  “Have my orc look at it.” Earl extended one hand toward the fallen Byreika. “You guys should try super werewolf hearing. It regenerates in no time…Actually, don’t. Because there’s some significant downsides.”

  “It’s true then?” Byreika looked at the offered hand for a moment like it might suddenly sprout claws. But then he realized he was being stupid, shook his head, and took the hand anyway.

  “Yeah.” Earl hoisted Byreika to his feet. “But I’d appreciate you keeping that to yourselves.”

  The Polish leader seemed a little embarrassed. Because frankly, if you take the time to think it over, it was pretty damned obvious that Earl had to be an atypical werewolf. “Now I understand how you earned your reputation, Harbinger.”

  “It does make it tougher for things to kill you. This also explains why I felt obligated to put Franks back together.” Earl looked to Klaus. “Stricken left out the part where I’m the one who ripped Franks to pieces to begin with. It’s a long story.”

  “We will make the time.” Klaus was still ticked, but he seemed willing to listen.

  “Please, gentlemen.” Kiratowa gestured for them to sit. The leaders grudgingly did so. “Stricken wishes for us to fight. Are we his puppets? No. We are Earl Harbinger’s guests here, and we must allow him the opportunity to respond to these allegations. We have much to discuss.”

  The leaders had much to discuss. I was busy opening Stricken’s email.

  * * *

  The Petrov Report was forty pages long. Our copy consisted of photos of paper sheets obviously typed on a typewriter, now yellowed with age, and the accompanying hand-drawn maps. Sometimes the photographer had rushed; the page wasn’t perfectly framed, and I could see that the papers had been hastily set on top of a green metal filing cabinet. The lighting was crap. Whoever had snapped these pictures had probably been in a hurry.

  I could understand a lot of the language, but I couldn’t read it worth a damn. For my first pass I’d downloaded that app Trip had recommended, so my phone could take the words in a picture and change them into English. It worked okay for individual words, but like most translation software, the narrative turned to unreadable nonsense. So I had drafted a few Hunters in the camp who could read Cyrillic to translate and put them to work.

  It turned out there had actually been two Petrov expeditions into the City of Monsters. The first was in 1957, to assess the situation. What they discovered was that whatever ancient treasures might be in there weren’t worth the cost. The second expedition was in the aftermath of the nuclear “tests,” to see if anything could be salvaged from the wreckage. What Petrov discovered in the radioactive ruin led to the authorities leaving it alone ever since.

  Even though it was in a rugged, difficult to get to, barely explored part of the world, people had known about the city forever. The natives considered it cursed and avoided it like the plague. Before the bomb, there had been several imposing obelisks, approximately four stories tall, surrounding a large central pyramid. The structures reflected the sun from miles away, so treasure hunters and fools had logically decided they must be coated in silver, or better, constructed of pure silver bars, so why not go get some? Everyone who tried disappeared. The first official expedition there had been sent by Peter the Great. It hadn’t come back. The last scientific expedition had been sent by Tsar Nicholas, had been five hundred men strong, and of course, it hadn’t come back either. I was sensing a trend.

  We already knew about those lost attempts from Oxford, but we hadn’t known that the early 1900s group had sent back a carrier pigeon with a brief report and a charcoal rubbing of what we now recognized as the symbol of Asag. The Tsar’s men had made it inside the pyramid before vanishing. Their ominous final message was that they’d been spied upon by some odd subterranean creatures, but all was well.

  The Russians left the cursed, frozen city alone for six decades after that, until an arms race persuaded them to take another crack at it. It was assumed to have been built by Elder Things or one of the ancient factions. Who knew what kind of knowledge or artifacts they could find there? They’d picked one of their deadliest agents and backed him with a thousand hardened troops, armed with every alchemical device and trinket that was supposed to work against the Old Ones. They’d been supported by MiGs, and even had a warship for fire support.

  They had lasted a week.

  * * *

  To: Committee for State Security – 17th Directorate Chairman

  Summary of Inspection Expedition to State Anomaly 168. August 1, 1957 – Special Purpose Military Commissar N. Petrov, 1st Detachment, Zenith Group reporting.

  SA168, also known as Gorod Chudovish, is on Sukhoy Nos cape, Severny Island, of the Novaya Zemlya archipelago. At 1200 on July 20th, 1st ZGD made landfall at SA168. We were immediately set upon by a wide variety of supernatural creatures (see section A).

  The attacks ca
me in successive waves. With naval gun support 1st ZGD was able to clear the beachhead and approach SA168. We met heavy resistance at every step. Upon securing the upper levels of the pyramid, the attacks increased in frequency and intensity over the following days. Scout spotters were unable to ascertain where these waves originated from. It is my belief that they generated spontaneously from the city itself. The deeper we traveled, the worse it became.

  The caverns beneath the pyramid seem to be a perpetual war zone. There exists a kilometer beneath the surface a terrible gate, which continually vomits forth horrors. My scientific advisors determined that these beings originate from a variety of rival dimensions (see section B). My own scouting ascertained that many of these creatures then take up residence beneath the city, continually making war against the other refugees.

  I personally witnessed multiple clashes between rival groups of monsters. They seemed to look upon 1st ZGD as simply another group competing for supremacy (see Appendix 1 for maps and detailed engagement reports).

  Note: I would caution you not to have too much faith in our maps. The city’s structures seem to be constantly evolving. Paths appear. Doors disappear. It is geometric chaos and a cause for attrition as men are continually lost.

  On July 26th we discovered what the rival factions were fighting over. While solo scouting, I came across a giant chamber holding an alien structure. We believe it to be the tomb of an elder god. The symbol upon the tomb matches that discovered by the Tsar’s expedition.

  The tomb itself was protected by an army of subterranean creatures. The vile, degenerate creatures were designated the Asakku by Dr. Koroborov (see Appendix 2). They were unable or unwilling to communicate. It is unknown if they are descended from the original inhabitants who built Gorod Chudovish, or are simply the dominant faction which has come through the gate since then. All of our attempts to breach this structure ended in death or insanity.

  Having taken severe casualties, and unable to travel deeper into the catacombs, on July 27th at 1500 I declared a retreat.