In the year 2310, following the fifteen years of World War V, the peoples of the world became utterly tired of the governments in place. With a single attack by an anarchist group calling themselves the PFC, (Peoples Freedom Corps) a military base, already weakened by prolonged fighting, was overwhelmed and destroyed. That victory acted as a signal- within the following years, hundreds of similar groups arose around the world, and swiftly decimated the governmental powers to next to nothing.

Having been forced through fifteen years of fighting for reasons based purely on politics and greed, the people of the world rejoiced at the turn of events! ... Until they realized the true horror of what had been unleashed. With the destruction of the world's governments, as corrupted as they were, came also the destruction of the world's security.


Sixty years later, in 2370, the remnants of the governments from before were partially restored, and the rampant violence, rape, rioting and looting, as well as a majority of the other things which had threatened the very existence of society itself, became partially calmed... but only partially.

The newly reformed governments could not be, and did not even expect to be, as much as a fraction of their previous strength- especially when they weren't even fully reformed. They were weak... and, being weak... they were even more corrupt than when they'd been overthrown in the first place.

It came to the place where whoever had cash had cops- and cops, when they existed at all, were next to worthless. The only true enforcers where the hunters- mercenaries who worked for bounties, normally with bounties on their own heads just as high or higher than the ones they pursued.

It was about this time that a boy was born- a boy who would later be considered one of the greatest hunters to ever live. He was not the best, mind, but you'd be hard pressed to find one better. This was the boy who'd come to be known as Hunter Kane.


With a dull thud, the two men hopped down from their cart- which was, in fact, not much more than a hovering truck bed with a front bench and steering gear- making twin dust clouds as their identical, black leather boots hit the dusty road. The word identical is used loosely here, though. It'd be more accurate to say they were of identical make, as the younger man's boots were immaculately cleaned and polished, while the elder's looked like they'd been rolled in crap and left to dry.

After leaning over to brush the newly-risen layer of dust from his feet, the younger sighed drearily, turned, and questioned, "So, Kane... why are we here again?"

Giving his normal, leering grin from beneath the floppy brim of his hunting hat, the older man- now identified as Kane- explained, "Seems this little town's been having a bit o' trouble from a pack of hellhounds- and they're offering 900c per head, on top of the normal price for the destruction of dangerous beasts... only 100c, in this case."

"So 1,000c altogether, for each one? Not the best we've done."

Kane shrugged. "Aren't very many good bounties out lately. Just make sure you remember to keep the heads in one piece- some of these little towns will be painfully literal if they think they can get out of paying their due, as we've both learned before."

The younger man nodded, partially to show understanding, and partially to shake a bit of his ear-length black hair from his face. He then pulled on a pair of fingerless, metal-plate fighting gloves, and took his pair of charge pistols from their holsters to check them... but stopped at the sound of a throaty chuckle from Kane.

"You sure you know how to use those, Matt?"

The younger man, or, Matt, sighed again. "Generally you point the hollow end at the thing you need dead, and pull the trigger. Do you really have to bring that up every third day? I mean, I know I'm younger than you, but we've the same amount of experience, and it's been twen'y friggin' years!"

This brought a full, barking laugh from Kane, who then replied, "We may have the same experience, but I've still yet to aim the wrong end of the gun, and hit myself instead of the target."

At the renewed laughter of his partner Matt continued checking his pistols, then put them into the matching holsters slung on either hip- sure of their readiness. After Kane followed suit and checked all his weapons- a process which took three or four times as long, having a broadsword, a set of blast sticks, several netting and stunning tools, his Morgenstern hunter's cannon, and a large array of other implements stored in his ankle-length, tan leather trenchcoat- the two finally started into the town, just in time for them to meet the first of the hellhounds... which Kane promptly blasted in the chest.

"Time to get to work."



Well, here's another story! In all truth, it'd probably be better categorized as scifi/western, but that wasn't an option. XP.

Just a few notes-

(1)This is actually the prequel to a story I haven't yet written, even though I thought of this one first. (?!) I... don't quite know how that works yet, but it does. (Why'm I saying? Just thought I'd explain why it's Hunter's -Origin-... it's basically here to explain the origins of the characters in the next story. Why not Hunters' Origin then, if more than one? Because I thought that looked stupid. :shrugs:)

(2)I originally thought this up as a video game idea, and will shortly begin the process of modelling the characters. (Creating them in 3D) If you want to see them, send me an email, and... eventully... when I actually get off (or onto, as it has to be done on a computer) my fat lazy butt and make them, I'll send ya' some pics, or post'em somewhere online if there's high demand.

(3)Please R&R, as always! (Constructive criticism will be read fondlyand returned in kind, though it may take time. Flames will be met with the barrel of Kane's cannon.)