The Pack

The Pack
The Pack infested Seattle about the same time as Ghost Archer started the Seattle branch of the Wild Hunt. Actually the Seattle Hunt's first major threat, the hero team battled Mongrel and his Pack for many months calumniating in the defeat of the Pack.

Hellhound
Moondog
Mongrel
Pit Bull
Rottweiler
Doberman: deceased

The Death of Doberman      Doberman jerked his head around, looking over his shoulder at the crunch of gravel on frozen tar. A black figure was silhouetted against the light polluted night sky of Seattle. Starlight glinted off a long curved blade held down along the right leg. Doberman snarled, the metal of his teeth gnashed. He turned slowly, carefully, to face the apparition, the claws that extended over the backs of his hands coming up into an en garde position. The man in the shadows raised his blade, holding it in both hands at waist level, the steel aimed at Doberman's midriff. Feeling trapped, his back to a parapet and a four-story drop to the street below, Doberman circled to his right, giving himself sufficient maneuvering room. He giggled, a strange, high-pitched sound, incongruent with his lanky, superbly muscled, frame.
     "Maybe you'll like being dead," he tittered and lunged.
     Blade met claws as the other quick-stepped back two paces. Doberman could see the man clearly now but he registered no recognition, all he saw was an opponent. A following overhead slash was blocked by a powerful hand that caught Doberman's wrist and squeezed. No weakling, he twisted, broke free and bounced back out of the range of the curved steel.
     Both stood eyeing each another, Doberman growling, claws held down, the other silent, the blade nearly touching the pebbles at his feet. Sweeping up from roof level, the steel arced toward Doberman's vitals, forcing him back against an aerial. Steel severed aluminum as Doberman ducked under a lightning quick slash at neck height. The antenna dropped at Doberman's feet. He sprang sideways, his growls now that of a dog in furious battle. Reflexively he lashed out with a jab, catching the man in the left shoulder, the three claws sinking through skin and muscle to stop on the underside of the shoulder blade.
      Doberman giggled with glee, a giggle cut short when he was lifted from his feet by a side kick that hurled him from the rooftop. Twisting his body in an effort to land on his feet, Doberman almost succeeded. One foot struck the edge of the dumpster over balancing it, bringing it down on its side, the cover striking Doberman in the shoulder as he rolled free. Slime, nearly frozen, endangered his balance as he looked up the side of the building, seeking his foe. To his surprise the other stood on the low wall edging the rooftop, looking down.
     Without thought, Doberman's nemesis stepped off the edge and dropped the four stories to land with a soft thump five meters away. Doberman scrambled to his feet, claws finding purchase in the ooze, aiding in his efforts. In four long strides the other was on him, blade nearly invisible in the blackness of the alley. As Doberman stood the steel hissed, ending in spray of blood. Air gurgled through spouting blood.
     Doberman's last act was to grab his throat in surprise then he crumpled into a pile of rubbish, another throw away. The man stood silently by as the body quivered and stilled, then wiped the blade clean on Doberman's black and brown tunic. Wincing in pain, the man slid the blade to a scabbard strapped across his back in a single fluid motion. Something changed in the man, a green fire seemed to fade in his eyes. He shook himself and blinked, looking down at the corpse. A trickle of blood oozed down his chest, chilling in the wind tunnel effect of the alley. Unconsciously he shivered and turned to face the wind. Stepping carefully around the body, he made his way to the mouth of the alley and vanished into the night.

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