Hunting the Hand

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The path into battle, crucial in ensuring their plan worked, was one of the many hidden escape tunnels leading out of the compound, similar to the one Lash and Ingrid had used to escape the safe house in Frankfurt. A quick journey down a dimly-lit concrete corridor that put them nearly half a kilometer behind the enemy's position then they were easing their way through snow-covered trees, weapons ready.

As they slipped through the trees, Lash couldn't help but smile ferally. It felt good to be on the hunt again, garbed in familiar gear and with a high-powered weapon in his hand. And there was no greater prey to be hunted than vampires themselves! As they eased through the trees in the darkness, he could feel his blood fairly sing through his veins at the anticipation of hunting down those Hand agents and their allies that were currently threatening Van Tallert's holdings and soaking the ground with their blood!

His senses already tuned to pick up the slightest variations in the environment thanks to him being in full hunter mode, the first thing he noticed was a whiff of diesel and lubricant from the machines the Hand agents were using. On the heels of that, the scent of vampires and a handful of human familiars, each of them confident and at ease. And why wouldn't they be? They had successfully laid siege to one of the most powerful Ventru in Western Europe and they were nearing their goal of breaching the compound without retaliation from a Ventru-led force.

That thought tightened Lash's smile. No retaliation until today! There was no denying it: he was fiercely looking forward to turning the tables on their erstwhile pursuers and showing them the wrath of the Ventru. Their blood would be spilled in a tidal wave of fury, their bodies left to rot, so swore Ingamon Lash!

Night vision caught the rear elements of the nearest assault, enhancing the natural vampire ability to see in the dark until it was as bright as noonday. With curt hand gestures, Truk sent elements of his team to the left and right to target the flanking enemy units. Then he, Lash and two other assets were stealthily working their way towards the heavy, half-track trucks occupying the rear that were carrying the munitions for the tanks.

Taking the right, Lash kept his sights on the three Hand agents in front of him, easing closer as they spoke in low voices, their postures loose and easy, unconcerned about any threat from their rear. Only at the last moment did he sling his weapon and draw the karambit he had sheathed on his thigh. With a curved blade and a fitted grip, it made the perfect knife for a hunting vampire with its ability to both slice and tear open an exposed throat.

Which, with a hand over the mouth to prevent the agent from calling out, he did, opening the man's throat with a quick press against the carotid and pull across the windpipe. The man tensed when he was grabbed, grunting against Lash's hand and greater strength. Then he was dropping soundlessly to the snow-covered ground, blood rhythmically pumping from his severed carotids. He was quickly joined by his two comrades, the remaining agents completely unaware of the first's stealthy death and so were unprepared for Lash's continuing attack.

A punch to the throat silenced one while he cut the throat of the other. Then he was catching the first in strong hands and snapping his neck. A quick glance at the three bodies to make sure they were truly dead then a look up at the truck they had been guarding followed by remotely-detonated explosives going under the vehicles before they were moving again.

Next on their list of targets were the tanks themselves, modified American M-1A Abrams and British Challenger III's built for short-field combat operations. Lash could only assume that the compact nature of the battlefield, necessarily restricted to keep the humans from discovering what they were doing, was responsible for the Hand choosing to use short-field units, with their shorter guns and heavier armor, normally reserved for tank vs tank warfare.

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