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departures occurred; he did not tolerate dissent or failure, or take kindly to reminders of those abandoning the Aliomenti. The Leader’s eyes flashed, a sign that Porthos recognized as dangerous, and he backed down. Quickly. “Sorry, sir. Rough day.”
    The man’s eyes narrowed on Porthos. “I asked you a question, Hunter . What use are you to me if you cannot find Stark?”
    Porthos took a deep breath. “Even Stark needs a support network, sir. The foolish who have left our ranks, the humans he bewitches to his cause… all of them provide him some type of support. If we can erase that support, he will eventually tire and make a mistake. Whether he has Energy or not, he must still be on the alert for us, constantly on the lookout. He must know we’re going to come after him again. If his supporters start to return to us as prisoners… it would likely accelerate the timeline to him making that mistake.”
    The Leader’s frown lessened. Slightly. “Continue.”
    “We should be able to accelerate that impact by ramping up our Hunting schedule. I believe Stark must be aware of when we hunt; he undoubtedly keeps track of his band of traitors and knows when any go missing. If they start vanishing quickly… he’ll be quite concerned.”
    “And he may decide to interrupt a Hunt to save one of the traitors from capture,” The Leader mused, stroking his chin. “An accelerated Hunting schedule may also dissuade the… weak-minded, shall we say, from making poor decisions.”
    Porthos nodded. “And that, sir, is where I come in. Let me Track those targets, so that Athos, Aramis, and I can bring them back. A secured prison full of traitors would prove an interesting tourist attraction for our membership, don’t you think?”
    The Leader nodded. “And in the interim, you can figure out how to Track Stark, Aramis can figure out how to effectively Damper him, and Athos can work out the logistics to ensure that your next encounter with the man is, at long last, your final encounter.”
    Porthos swallowed. “Of course, sir.”
    The Leader turned, indicating that the discussion was over. “We meet in Conference Room A in one hour. Be prepared to depart immediately.”

    ●●●●●

    One hour later, the Hunters entered Conference Room A and sat at a large, polished wooden table. The walls were painted a royal red, trimmed with ornately-carved wood. Granite countertops were garnished with an assortment of food delicacies, and several vintage bottles of wine were chilled and available as well. It wasn’t much of a spread by Aliomenti standards, for money was more plentiful than air. The Hunters made their food selections and sat at the table, waiting.
    It was standard practice by The Leader. The arrival time of others was before his own; being late was an unpardonable sin, though not a rule listed in the small book Aramis carried with him, typically secured to the inside of his ever-present top hat for easy reference when needed. The message was clear: their lives and free will were secondary to The Leader’s own. Disobedience was not tolerated. Not all who spent time in Energy-suppressing cells were reclaimed traitors from Will Stark’s Alliance.
    The man finally entered, impeccably dressed in a custom-fitted suit likely costing more than the flying, transforming car the Hunters had used the day before. A servant entered as well, and held the oversized leather chair at the head of the table to aid The Leader in taking his seat. The servant recited a list of menu items in a low voice, received The Leader’s order, and scurried to prepare the food to the man’s liking. Athos watched this scene warily; the reaction to the food plate delivery would tell a great deal about The Leader’s mood that day.
    The servant returned with the prepared plate of food and set it before The Leader, who studied it — and then swiped it from the table, shattering the expensive fine china plate and scattering food everywhere.
    No, he