Name: Locke Broughton
Identity: Assassin (Current)
Switchable: Witch, Vampire (Emperor Class!)
...
Locke looked up at the sun hanging high in the sky. After a moment's thought, he decided against switching his identity on the spot just to see what his vampire form would look like.
Truthfully, he had no particular fondness for vampires. The vampire profession also seemed a bit weaker than the witch class, but it was at least an option within his acceptable range. He wouldn't actively resist turning into one.
'But what does 'Emperor Class' mean?' Locke wondered.
Beside him, Gwen checked her watch, keeping her eyes fixed on the distant tactical tent.
"What's taking Dad and Hank so long?"
Locke shook off his thoughts and smiled.
"They're probably working out how to ensure George and Hank keep everything a secret."
Even though the arriving agents claimed to be from the Department of Homeland Security, they were actually S.H.I.E.L.D. Locke wasn't intimately familiar with DHS, but he knew S.H.I.E.L.D. exceptionally well. Even if he couldn't overhear the conversation inside the tent clearly, he could easily deduce what was happening.
...
Inside the tent, things were proceeding exactly as Locke had anticipated.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s directive was entirely clear: supernatural elements like vampires were strictly on a need-to-know basis, and the general public was better off remaining completely in the dark.
But George let out a dry chuckle.
"Are you trying to silence me by invoking national security?"
The last time a federal agency tried playing the national security card with him, it had ended catastrophically.
Maria Hill, broadcasting live from the Triskelion, offered a calm smile.
"Of course not, Senior Superintendent Stacy."
George blinked, caught off guard by the title.
Maria Hill turned her attention to Hank. "Detective Sergeant Voight, we are aware that you are currently facing an internal affairs investigation in Chicago. One good turn deserves another—cooperate with us, and you will secure a promotion to Deputy Chief of the 21st District."
They treated every situation as an isolated transaction. The last time they crossed paths with the locals, Nick Fury had practically dug his own grave and jumped right into it, leaving S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands tied.
But this time was different. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mandate was to protect the public from truths they weren't yet prepared to handle, and this vampire outbreak fit that criteria perfectly.
Under normal circumstances involving regular patrol officers, they would offer financial compensation and nondisclosure agreements. S.H.I.E.L.D. was already executing that protocol with the responding local deputies, confident that any civilians who heard the rumors wouldn't believe them anyway.
But George and Hank were different; they were seasoned law enforcement leaders.
As for the disparity in the offers—Senior Superintendent of the nation's premier metropolitan police department versus Deputy Chief of a Chicago district—there was no contest as to who would wield greater actual authority.
Hearing the terms laid out, George and Hank exchanged a brief look.
"Can DHS actually deliver on that guarantee?"
Maria Hill smiled without answering directly. Instead, she offered,
"Senior Superintendent Stacy, though this world harbors a few extraordinary anomalies, it remains, at its core, a world belonging to ordinary people. Don't you agree it should stay that way?"
George and Hank fell silent.
Fifteen minutes later, Barbara Morse escorted the two officers out of the tent, the agreement officially finalized. The compensation package was simply too substantial to ignore.
Besides, neither George nor Hank had any intention of spreading panic; as veteran cops, they already knew far more secrets than the average civilian. Getting a promotion and a salary bump simply for providing a standard guarantee was a win-win scenario.
...
Watching George and Hank walk away, Natasha Romanoff turned back to the terminal displaying the two powerful figures currently steering S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Did you locate the spent brass?"
"Yes."
While George and Hank were detailing the encounter, an extraction team had been dispatched to conduct a grid search for the empty Winchester casings Locke had discarded. Even though the five vampires had been neutralized with headshots, it had clearly taken quite a few rounds to get the job done.
"The kid has the makings of a solid sniper."
"But he isn't right for S.H.I.E.L.D., and he wouldn't join us anyway."
"Agreed."
Maria Hill and Victoria Hand exchanged brief observations before giving Natasha a few final instructions regarding the arriving research team, subsequently cutting the feed.
Had Locke dropped every single vampire with a single, flawless shot under pressure, S.H.I.E.L.D. might have taken a closer look. But missing a dozen rounds before connecting? Even a standard Navy SEAL sniper could replicate that under duress.
Furthermore, Locke regularly visited the firing range with George. George knew the boy was progressing rapidly, and a quick check with the range master—bypassing George entirely—confirmed they had a gifted young marksman on their hands who had evolved quickly from a novice.
Consequently, while Locke had technically turned the tide of the skirmish once again, the precedent set during the Poseidon disaster meant neither Hill nor Hand found it entirely anomalous. At most, they simply felt a passing sense of amusement that his name had popped up yet again.
"Dad!" Gwen greeted George happily as he approached. She threw a brief glance toward Barbara Morse before looking back at her father.
"They didn't threaten you, did they?"
'They tempted me with a massive promotion, and I folded,' George thought. Still, there was no downside. Reaching Senior Superintendent meant he would have far more regular hours to spend with his family, and he wouldn't have to be quite as frugal when managing the boys' college tuition funds.
Most importantly, the promotion would grant him the high-level security clearance necessary to finally hunt down his ultimate nemesis, the Peerless Assassin.
'I will catch you eventually.'
Hank scanned the lobby as Helen and Rebecca walked out to meet them. "Where's Erin?"
"In her room, packing her things."
"Right."
The moment the federal agents emerged from the tent, they officially declared the area a restricted zone, bringing the hunting trip to an abrupt end. Since midday, most of the arriving guests had already checked out early, salvaging their schedules by heading to alternative hunting grounds. By now, the lodge was nearly empty.
None of the guests suffered any financial loss, however; DHS had fully compensated everyone for their booking disruptions. They certainly lived up to their reputation as the most well-funded law enforcement agency established in the post-9/11 era.
Even the hunting lodge itself had been completely bought out and leased by the agency for the duration of the operation.
...
The group gathered back around the lounge sofas in the main lobby.
"When do you plan to head out?" Rebecca looked at Hank and George, offering an apologetic smile. "This year was incredibly unlucky."
'No, it was actually quite lucky,' George and Hank thought, recalling the commitments made by the federal agents.
Helen turned to Rebecca. "Our flights have been rebooked for tomorrow afternoon. Since the lodge is closed anyway, you should come back with us and visit New York for a bit."
Rebecca blinked in surprise. "Are you sure I won't be intruding?"
Helen waved her hand dismissively.
"Not at all. We can go shopping together." Gwen chimed in, helping her mother convince their host.
Locke sat quietly to one side, mentally restructuring his own schedule. The hunting excursion had originally been slated for a full week, but they were turning back after a single day.
'It's all because of that damn vampire outbreak. Completely ruined my itinerary.'
The moment the thought crossed his mind, a sharp chime rang out in his consciousness.
Ding!
[Task generating...]
[Task: "Interview with the Vampire"]
[Task Rewards: 1,000 Achievement Points / 1,000 Achievement Points]
[Task Description: Your travel itinerary was disrupted, leaving you thoroughly displeased. Your fury burns. Go forth, locate the source of this vampire lineage, and purge them with fire. Let them witness the scale of your wrath.]
[Task Note: Transform, Vampire!]
Locke's jaw tightened slightly as he reviewed the prompt.
'I just made a passing complaint, and you took it literally.'
Furthermore, he considered himself an exceptionally refined and reasonable individual; he wasn't the type to fly into a mindless rage at minor inconveniences. That sounded more like a tyrant's trait.
Besides, even though the hunting trip was cut short, he had unlocked an entirely new supernatural class. More importantly, George now owed him a massive, undeniable debt of gratitude. All things considered, Locke hadn't just broken even—he had come out ahead with a massive profit.
Therefore... *Cancel.*
Locke prepared to dismiss the task without a second thought. But suddenly, his six senses flared with a subtle, intuitive warning. He hesitated, leaving the task active on his dashboard instead.
Whenever his sensory perception gave him a jolt like that, it meant either someone was tracking him or a threat was actively closing in. Where could it be coming from?
At that moment, Erin walked into the lobby from the residential wing, her complexion looking noticeably pale and drawn. George, Helen, and Rebecca tactfully avoided making any comment. Rebecca smoothly offered her a tall glass of fresh green juice.
Erin was dealing with a severe substance dependency. Gwen had secretly shared that piece of information with Locke the previous evening.
However, her addiction wasn't born out of reckless indulgence. As everyone knew, Chicago was a city plagued by systemic crime, and Erin operated within the Intelligence Unit alongside Hank, directly targeting major criminal syndicates.
She had inadvertently been exposed and compromised while working deep undercover to secure a bust against a major cartel. Since bringing down that network, she had been fighting a brutal, uphill battle to clean up using sheer willpower.
That was the primary reason Hank had accepted George's invitation to come out to the wilderness. They wanted to get her away from the triggers of Chicago, hoping the endorphins and focus of an outdoor hunt would help suppress the increasingly severe withdrawal symptoms.
Locke generally held a rigid, uncompromising stance toward individuals who willingly compromised themselves through vice or dependency.
To him, a career gambler like Dylan wasn't a reckless addict—the man treated it as a calculated profession to generate wealth. A true addict didn't even deserve comparison.
The same logic applied to substance abuse. But for an officer who had been compromised against her will while actively placing her life on the line to combat syndicates?
Locke felt nothing but profound respect. It had nothing to do with morality, and certainly nothing to do with personal grievances.
***
Bonus
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