[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/v3izJII.png[/img][/center]
[center][h2]On Hunting[/h2][/center]
Hunter had been on the surface of the planet of Earth for just a month and had visited half the major cities in the U.S. Impressive, for a man on foot. Less impressive for an alien in advanced power armour. He was drifting, sending out feelers wherever he went. His encounters had been minimal and mostly inconclusive for those involved were of little interest to him or his mission. After all, his role was not one of an ambassador. He was a living scalpel, cutting out the dead tissue from a larger whole to ensure its survival. But the scalpel could also be used in exploratory surgery, and that was what he was initially tasked with. Whatever was causing the unchecked evolution in the primitives on Earth was likely to lead to extinction if it continued. The so called ‘meta-humans’ as they were referred to manifested abilities unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It was not that the ability to breathe fire or turn one’s skin to metal was unheard of across the galaxy, but for so many individuals of the same species to suddenly be capable of such varied feats? That was a problem. 

More problematic however was that these changes, accelerated growth, powers, chaos and devastation, had attracted others. Others from beyond the stars. It was these forces acting upon Earth that Hunter was duty bound to combat above all other threats. One of the most formidable currently active called for his presence in the city of Los Angeles. The creature was a powerful psionic of unknown origin that had not avoided notice in the Republic. In fact, it had an entry in the most wanted books. It was named Parasite, and it was ranked third. The third most wanted monstrosity in the Republic had found its way to Terra and had begun to sow destruction, it was all it knew. Perhaps some would see it as foolish to punish one for their nature, but for Hunter, that was his true purpose. The Hunter does not blame the Bear for killing his kind out of fear, or hunger, but he slays it none-the-less.
[center][h2]Los Angeles[/h2][/center]
The Hunter had followed the Parasite across the country, tracing its kills, but it was a difficult process. That process had brought him to L.A, the city with a bridge. Also fine weather and unpredictable ground, it could be said. But mostly a bridge, and a damn fine one at that. Shame Hunter had no time for architecture, and would have no doubt found it paled in comparison to some more functional but far less creative structure he’d seen on some other planet even if he did. Practicality could be useful in keeping one alive when their job is incredibly dangerous, but it could be as much a curse in making that life almost empty, without meaning would be too strong, but certainly lacking in colour. Hunter had adopted a profession as his name though, so evidently he was not overly concerned with creativity, nor in bettering his soul. He in fact seemed determined to take the opposite route, burying whatever spark remained until he was the most efficient weapon he could be. The GRP’s specialist psychiatrists would be proud of the work they’d done. The thing they had created. That thing stood cloaked in darkness, a transparent haze marked only by a small patch of unpainted fence behind him that betrayed his faint outline. Though it did not betray him to anyone with the skill to read the signs that he offered. Few on Earth would have had that capacity, and he saw none of them here on this deserted street.

[i]So much for America’s heroes[/i]

The house was deserted, hard indeed to tell it had been a crime scene half a week earlier but Hunter was not one to follow traditional signs. Almost as soon as the message had come through that sweep teams had picked up large intense bursts of psionic energy he’d requisitioned two new pieces of equipment. The first was an interface for his armour, attached to the back of his helmet. It allowed him to track and perceive psionic energy, or residue as it was sometimes referred as. This substance marked the use of powerful psionics within a specific timeframe equivalent to a half-life. Some referred to it as psionic residue. Hunter preferred to think of it as more of a memory of power torn like a scar in the real world, but he would think that for he hated psionic powers with a passion seldom seen in such as him. It was this device that lit the Esper’s home up light a beacon in the night sky, though to him it seemed a humble abode like those around it. As for his second piece of equipment, that was a far more combat orientated device known as Sarastor, roughly translating to ‘Singer’ in English. It resembled little more than a small mega-phone in the style of a handgun, and it was a useful tool in dealing with psionics. For now, it was all he had access to. But the fabricator was working hard somewhere up there in the sky to materialise what he really wanted, if it came to it.

The Hunter moved across the street, passing over the road with no incident. There was no one around to see him seemingly materialise out of thin air, and even if they had they might have mistook his blurred form for some trick of the night or their weary eyes. He relied on that, and he had confidence that they could rely only on their eyes to watch him even then, devices would be of no use. His footfalls were surprisingly quiet as he stepped onto the sidewalk on the other side of the road and briefly across the grassy lawn, a few strides more than enough to see him to the exterior of the building. There was little cause for a more indirect route into the building, seeing as how the windows had been quite literally blown away and were guarded by little more than police tape. He ducked underneath it like a crime scene investigator on TV and stepped inside.

The house was a mess. Flicking through vision filters offered up new insight into the damage that had been done to the interior of the building, night vision revealed the deep gouges in the walls and the blown out glass. His psi-vision gave him an impression of exactly what had caused the damage, residue was everywhere. The place was coated with it, almost as if it had been saturated in mental energy. That made sense. So far, all the victims had been lesser psionics, and he knew full well what the killer was. Evidently the humans who had been living here were psionics as well, but of far greater potential than any before them. That meant the creature had grown ambitious, or greedy. It also meant its power was increasing exponentially. If the GRP could see it now, could see exactly what it was capable of… it’d easily make the top spot on the most wanted list. This… Parasite, had to die. If the same proclaimed heroes he had become slowly aware of were incapable of such, and he believed to his very core they were very much incapable savages despite their evolution, then he would deal with Parasite himself.

[color=1E90FF]“Keia salaisa.”[/color] He spoke within his helmet to his supervisor up above, pardoning the religious metaphor. [color=1E90FF]“Concentrate sweep teams on this region, the Parasite grows in power, he will be visible.”[/color]

“Confirmed, Hunter. Satellite, drone and database monitors will concentrate their efforts using your current location as a focal point.” Keia almost seemed shaken, she was seeing what Hunter was seeing as she watched through his perspective directly, something she did only rarely. “Be careful. We need more intelligence before you confront this entity, you are not currently outfitted for the hunt.”

[color=1E90FF]“Confirmed. That will be rectified soon. I will remain here and continue my investigation.”[/color] 

For a moment, cloud covered the moon above and the darkness grew all encompassing. The Hunter stood in the ruins of the Esper household, a stranger from beyond the stars, yet seemingly the only one who cared about the deaths of the people whose home had become their grave. His face set with a terrible focus beneath his helm.

[color=1E90FF] “Shea ossa sinrinsa.”[/color]

[i]The hunt begins.[/i]