Why, as a Pax Humanis member do I always capture alive? Okay that's an easy one. I believe in giving my prey a truly sporting chance. Just my prey, me, and my knife. Oh, and my hunting hound. Release 'em on my reserve, give them a 40 minute head start, then go hunting.
They need to die anyway, but this gives them a bit of dignity, and fresh air. You know, 'cause I'm such a nice person. -- Anon Guest
Members of Pax Humanis are very special people. Irredeemable psychopaths who really like to kill... or to cause pain. We're kept away from larger society for everyone's safety. When there's an appropriate need? The CRC sends us in. Murder used for a purpose.
Some are sent to cause a splash. Some are sent to make sure the problem is dead.
They send me to make sure the problem vanishes without a trace.
I'm a targeted weapon. Given my assignment, I stalk them for a couple of months before I find a weakness I can exploit. I let them achieve a sense of security, a place where few expect them to return from for a while. Then I strike.
Knock them out, take them away. Smuggle them off planet in a stasis tube. All the way to my reserve. Where it's just them, me, and my dogs.
Literal dogs. They're part wolf, and I'm their pack leader.
My target is left out in the wilderness with the clothes I caught them in and a decent knife. I let them have four days before my dogs and I start tracking them. We give my targets a fair chance and a fair fight.
Sometime, one of them will actually be able to fight back. Or give us an interesting fight at all. It's such a shame. So many of them claim to be mighty hunters or incredibly strong leaders. Yet when left with only their own skills and capabilities, they crumple like wet tissues.
Very unsatisfying.
The latest target had left the pod behind, but stripped a lot of things out of it. Their tracks were headed downhill, and then downstream. Finally! One who had some survival skills. This would make for an interesting hunt for a change.
We tracked them together. Me on the tracks and my dogs on the scent. He was using his knife to cut bark and small branches. What they were storing that in was a question I could answer later. The hunt was on for now, and we were closing the distance.
The fool actually waved when he saw us. He was across the ford of my fishing stream, so he had plenty of time to watch us and figure out what was happening.
My dogs began to howl. I took out my knives and eased into my hunting stride. I reveled in the change in his attitude. All the way along the spectrum from Thank the Powers to Powers Save Me.
He ran.
Fun.
I did not run. I didn't have to. I re-sheathed my knives as I started up the ground-eating pace and my dogs began to keep pace with him. No dog can out-run a fit Human. They can sort of keep up with us. My dogs relayed. Two running, the rest trotting steadily along. When the first two began to flag, another two took off and ran ahead as their packmates took their relative rest.
Mr Big Boss was panicking. Running blind. Falling over himself to get away. He did give us a decent run until he got himself boxed into a box canyon.
He was exhausted. Hungry. Wild-eyed and desperate. Mr Big Boss had lost every illusion that he was at all a big deal. My dogs watched him, waiting to see if he would fight back. We all knew he was cornered, including Mr Big Boss.
He'd had days to deal with the shock of his situation. He moved on to denial. "You won't hurt me," he said, and switched to bargaining. "I'm worth quadrillions. Whatever they're paying you, I can pay you more."
I recited his name. "You have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. You have had one chance to save yourself and lost. Do you have any last words?"
Anger. "You [INTERCOURSE] [FEMALE DOG]! I'll kill you!" The hand holding the knife was shaking. "Don't you dare come near me!"
"You're welcome to try," I smoothed. I took out my knives again. "I'd like it if you did try."
Crying and begging. "Please! I have twelve wives and children."
"You have twelve children as wives," I countered, walking steadily closer. "Just one reason among many as to why the Cogniscent Rights Committee decided that you need to be permanently removed."
My dogs fed well, that night. I had his heart, slow-roasted with garlic of course. And I found out what he used the fabric for. He'd used it as extra insulation to keep the night weather from creeping into his bones. The sticks and bark were for pathetic attempts at campfires.
Too bad it soaked up the river water and slowed him down on that last run.
Nice try. Three points.
I like eating their hearts. It proves that they could have used them for better purposes.
[Photo by Eva Blue on Unsplash]
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