Monster Hunter Bloodlines - eARC by Larry Correia (read a book .txt) 📕

as a threat, just an abundance of caution.” I had my gun at the compressed ready position, not aimed at him, but back by my chest. Which meant that I could punch it straight out and drill him in the heart really fast if I needed to. “How’d you get here?”

“The same way I get everywhere,” said the mysterious little man.

“Where’d you come from?” There was nothing but trees as far as I could see, no cars, no other vehicles, zilch.

“Most recently, the MCB offices in Atlanta, Georgia, where I have been overseeing the efforts to find the fugitive, Stricken.”

“How’s that working out?”

“Not well. Stricken is even wilier than our projections indicated. When given ample opportunities to prepare, he is a rather formidable foe. However, we are adjusting our strategies based upon recent developments and have made new projections. Which is what brings me here, to speak with you now.”

“Oh, good. I was really hoping for more cryptic pronouncements.” Coslow was still wearing the same, worn old suit, and no parachute, so he hadn’t dropped out of the sky. So he’d either teleported, or fast-roped out of some invisible silent stealth helicopter . . . and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the MCB had one of those. “What the hell are you anyway?”

“I am the PUFF Adjuster. That’s all you need to know.”

Stricken had offered to tell me. I probably should have taken him up on it. “Fine. Talk.”

“You were an unforeseen variable in this affair, yet now it appears your involvement has become pivotal. You will either heed this message—or not. Our projections have taken both possible responses into account. I will warn you, however, that the pathways branch rather dramatically based upon how sensible you are. Should you listen to me, the odds of your success, though slim, will go up dramatically. Should you disregard my advice, the resulting number of civilian casualties will be rather high, even by my admittedly jaded standards.”

“As far as government assholes go, you make me miss Franks. At least he says what he means.”

“Yet, he rarely says anything at all.”

“That’s a perk. What’s the message, Coslow?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Simply this. It is of the utmost importance that you keep the verbal contract you made with Stricken.”

It took my very tired brain a moment to process that. “I said I would look into his mystery problem.”

“That is correct. Our projections now confirm that your doing so will be of vital strategic importance.”

“What’s the crisis then?”

“We do not know.”

“Is it the thing the Secret Guard is worried about in South America?”

“We do not know. You would have to confirm that with Stricken.”

I took a deep, calming breath. The calming part didn’t work. “But Stricken’s currently hiding from you guys. How am I supposed to contact him?”

Coslow shrugged. “We do not know.”

Him saying “We do not know” was like a more honest, but just as annoying version of Franks’ classified. “What do you know?”

“Only that this particular crisis is not an extinction-level event. Mankind will survive this no matter what.”

I laughed. “Oh, good! You had me worried there for a second.”

Coslow gave me a curious look, and I noticed that his eyes had a bit of a red shine in the headlights. “However, if you do not deal with this crisis in a timely manner, approximately two million human beings will lose their lives in the upcoming weeks. The resulting refugee crisis will kill at least another million over the following year.”

“What?” I was stunned. “Millions? That’s insane.”

“No. It is simple math.”

“Based on what?”

“The ratios generated by the predictive futures market of the soul feasters.” And then Coslow blew right on past that before I had a chance to unpack it, like that wasn’t the weirdest damned thing I’d heard in a while. “The numbers may actually turn out worse. Tumultuous events like this often lead to wars, famine, and breakdowns in society.”

That sounded suspiciously like Asag’s MO. “Is it—”

“Despite the guilt you feel for waking that monster up, not everything is caused by your white whale, Mr. Pitt. We do not believe it to be Disorder’s doing, though he may be peripherally involved. If the models are accurate, the ultimate cause is most likely the Great Old Ones. Though the most likely reason they have gone on the current offensive may be in response to Asag’s recent awakening. Those two factions are ancient enemies.”

“They hate each other as much as they hate us.”

“Oh, the Old Ones do not hate mankind, Mr. Pitt. They see you as too insignificant to hate. You are merely minor obstacles to be overcome on the way to their inscrutable goals. Nor does Asag hate. for hate implies a fiery emotion. He is instinctually driven to destroy everything, and he will work toward that goal with complete dispassion. However, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, this event could cause more ripples, but each waveform becomes harder to predict the further it gets from the inciting incident. For now the expected casualty number has been set at three million.”

I stood there dumbfounded and not really knowing what to say. Since I now knew without a doubt that this was the real Coslow—no illusion or doppelganger could be this frustrating—I slowly reholstered my gun. “So I’m on the hook to finish Stricken’s mission, even though nobody knows what it is . . . ”

“That is correct. You made a verbal contract with him—”

“Bullshit.”

“Irrelevant, Mr. Pitt. I say you made a contract. You can deny that, however everything we have in our records about you indicates that you would be psychologically incapable of not trying to stop this kind of event once made aware of it. You would be compelled to come to the aid of those people regardless. Heroic meddling is encoded in your very DNA. So now that you are aware, your involvement from here on is a foregone conclusion. I am merely educating you about the stakes and the necessity of heeding the one called Stricken. Now that