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Valentin awoke, stretching and opening his eyes in one action, and cursing as the book about applying mathematical proofs to philosophical or other immediate situations that was on him fell to the floor. His phone was full of text messages, and as he read the locals news with his cereal he laughed. They really were a load of stupid buggers, from what he could read of the happenings at the university. He wondered what he'd tell his students about his almost suspiciously perfect disappearance from the scene. Well, that was Monday and it could wait. 

He wondered momentarily if Operation Humanity would indeed go through with his suggested plan to capture the pup, but then ignored that too. The hunter had given more than enough help, and though he had one more plan to catch the beastie he really didn't like it and would only give it a go if the other plans failed. For now though, he had other work to enjoy. He would have to check up with Josef regarding the arson of the more powerful Witch family, but this morning he was to hunt an entirely different one more as sport. But it was also work, of course. Harvesting organs was how as a contractor he was able to maintain an impressive arsenal without the great funding of the Operation. 

Finishing his breakfast the man went ti his basement, heaving aside a false wall ti reveal his armoury. It took him about ten minutes to suit up, but when he was done he looked in a way that younger warriors would have photographed and posted on instagram with tags like "tacticool". Armoured from head to toe, he had a set of thermal imagers mounted upon his helmet and magazines stuffed into pouches. Not a bit of skin was exposed, and his SIGMCX was covered in all sorts of pieces of tactical equipment upon picatinnies. That was far from all however as two pistols pistols silenced much like the .300 carbine were in armpit holsters. It was but a fraction of the list of things he brought along with himself on a hunt however, so Valentin went down said list to make sure all was present and the went to his car. 

It wasn't a drive too long to the woods, Valentin making sure nobody was about to see this man that looked more like he belonged in a movie than a moderately sized American town. Having made some distance the man then looped around a few times, hiding by a trail. Several people passed along with groups, until he saw the correct one. He waited for them to pass and then the man emerged from behind the tree, stalking them from a short distance. He might have been about two metres in height but he was bloody quiet, even if he said so himself. 

Deciding to not waste bullets on such filth, the Romanian removed his telescopic baton and struck it rather heavily upon the head of the eldest woman present, who from his observation and guessing was the most powerful of the group. Blood covered the weapon's metal and the woman went down. As the family turned to face him he aimed another swing at the athletic looking boy nearest him who collapsed in suit. The father drew a pistol which Valentin had no expected, but as the fellow fired the bullet harmlessly hit his plate carrier and was sent flying away. Before any more shots could be fired Valentin pulled on the man's hand to both get him to drop the weapon and lose balance to therefore fall. 

The woman who Valentin identified as the warlock's wife and mother to the two youngers present sent a great ball of fire at him, and though it hurt the fire retardant anti-stab clothing covering the hunter insured only a few hairs were singed. Her he gave a kick, before once more striking the head of the disarmed warlock. He laughed as he heard the cry [color=00aeef]"Run!"[/color], tugging on the hoodie of the young girl heeding the command and pulling upon it to get her to fall. Once she was on the ground he stomped down, and it all went black for her. From then on it was just a few more strikes here and there and the family was motionless. 

Wait. The boy was gone. Leaves were disturbed, and he couldn’t have gone far. Valeting roared in anger, running about in a few quick circles to see where the boy ran off to, but no avail. Until of course, the realization hit him. He had made himself invisible. Valentin could only chuckle, flicking on the thermal-imagers and then putting them on his eyes. He had to take only a few turns about until he located the cowering youth. The mist did mess with the goggles to some degree, but he was still able to make his way over to the lad after taking off the goggles pretending he couldn’t find him. He stood right by the tree that Valentin remembered his quarry was leaning against, and then shrugged, before violently lashing out with the baton to crack bones. 

Then it was the boring work of course. The hunter dragged his prey off to a pit full of leaves, and then brought over some coolers full of ice. The hunter was no doctor but he knew enough to properly remove each valuable internal organ of the magical fiends, and store them in the ice. 

There was of course the matter of his… well, his artwork. After one individual's organs were removed he grabbed his saw and with said saw removed the heads of each witch and warlock. Using pins and string he forced their faces into happy little rictuses of death, mounting them upon a broken-off rib in a pretty circle. All in all it was a productive morning between this piece that would inevitably send a message to the witches and warlocks related to the family, while the organs now in coolers would create a fairly large payoff. Valentin started sawing at the arms of fiends such that he could get them to hold hands one last time, alas it wouldn’t be.

A howl was heard, which Valentin ignored momentarily until his brain caught up to his ears telling the body that wolves weren’t supposed to howl at this time, and anyway there weren’t many real wolves in these woods. 

[i][color=39b54a]Damn.[/color][/i]

Dropping the saw he raised his carbine, looking around. Well, it was only one howl for now. Likely just a “lone wolf” that overheard the shooting and cries of pain from afar. Valentin decided he’d been here far too long as was, and slinging his rifle picked up his cooler before starting to run towards his car; the circle of “happy” heads would suffice for now he reckoned, better not as impressive of an art project than him losing his own life. Live to express creativity another day! — that was his motto.

Alas there was another howl this time to his left, followed by two to his right. He sprinted now, but another howl was in front of him. He looked down, and saw the pistols under either armpit that had not yet fired a shot. They would not save him from so many wolves in one place, oh no. He’d take a few with him, but no more. Dropping the cooler he made a gambit pointing to the largest, most impressive looking wolf among them before spreading his arms wide, hoping they did not notice the secret weapon he had just mounted. 

[color=39b54a]“Come puppy, surely you don’t need a whole pack to take me on? Or are you scared you won’t survive without them? Fight me, alone. Give me an honourable death at least, surely you know of that.” [/color] He really hoped it would extend to him the courtesy he wasn't particularly sure he would extend to one of its kind.

This had not worked so far it seemed, with the other wolves closing the distance to him. As a last ditch he made squawking noises to imitate a chicken, and strangely (but thankfully) this worked. The beast waved away its comrades, and started circling Valentin who remained standing with either arm outstretched. He had but a fraction of a second to hit the deck as the animal pounced, and once more a fraction of a second to bring himself upright. He side-stepped one swipe of its claws, ducked under another and tried to jump over a third; he wasn’t fast enough and the struck sent him airborne. Oh it hurt, but he couldn’t show weakness. He stood up, yet again spreading his arms wide. [color=39b54a]“Is that all?”[/color] he demanded. [color=39b54a]“Weak! Pitiful!”[/color]

The creature this time roared, and charged. Behind his face-shield Valentin smiled, swinging a ham-sized fist in a haymaker that connected with a beautiful crunch noise as it crushed the snout of the monster. Valentin was a large, muscular man. But that was not was made his strikes as if a sledgehammer to the beast; upon his fists were silver-plated and gently spiked knuckledusters carefully designed to do exactly this. 

Now even if the hunter did flatten the vile fiend’s face it was still a weighty monster of many kilograms flying at him and it landed heavily, sending Valentin to the ground. He had to act fast before it recovered, striking it in the throat and stomach to get the wind out of it. Straddling it and bringing down successive punches on its head until there was a red, pulpy mess before him, Valentin eventually finished what he started. 

Standing up the hunter brushed himself off, drawing either pistol. The black he was wearing hid the great amount of blood dripping from him brought on by the thrashes of the monstrosity but no doubt they could smell it coming off of him. Nevertheless, he hoped that the death would intimidate them… or failing that, he hoped the pack had the honour of their master to leave the man who won fair and square. Keeping both firearms upraised and picking up the cooler Valentin slowly walked to his car making sure he never took his gaze away from one of the wolves for more than a second. When there were only a few dozen metres left to his car Valentin sprinted with the great second wind that those in fear always had. Finally inside his car the hunter breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and giving a quick prayer to whoever might be listening. Opening them, he muttered [color=39b54a]“Oh shit.”[/color] as he noticed that there was a young man walking his dog walking by, and said young man saw him bloody, armoured, and bearing two pistols. 

The pedal went to the metal, and violating the local speed limit the hunter went home to lick his wounds. The weekend had not began as he hoped it would. But hey, he had a pay-check on his lap and a message left in the woods for the practitioners of witch-craft. No pain, no gain, the proverb went, right? Well, on that note if he was speeding, then there wouldn't be much harm in texting while doing so; he made sure to inform appropriate parties that there were a good deal of organs up for sale.