"Profiler?"
Raphael turned the word over quietly, looking down at the gold markings on his wrist with a faint frown.
Alongside what he'd privately been calling the body parameters panel, something new had appeared.
[First Hunting Ground: Demon.]
[Demons hunted: 1.]
[Contracted: Artificial Vampire • Lv1.]
[Contract Mutation: Blood Frenzy.]
[Contract Mutation: Vampire's Constitution.]
[Second Hunting Ground: Witch.]
[Fate Bonds established: 1.]
[Witch synchronized: Evelyn Vigo • 15%.]
[Synchronization Mutation: Profiler.]
"Strange..."
He'd been to the First Hunting Ground. He knew what that place was. But a Second Hunting Ground was something he'd never heard referenced.
Synchronization rate. What did that mean? And what did Profiler actually do?
The thing calling itself the Sinner's Hunting System had, so far, not seen fit to include a manual.
He shook his head slightly and fell into step beside Evelyn. It didn't take long before they arrived at the door marked A-9.
"Unit Nine?"
He studied the placard for a moment.
The Black Gloves had similar designation rooms.
The convention was straightforward — lower numbers meant stronger units.
He'd been stationed in A-2 himself, second only to some Black Gloves operative he'd never actually met.
While that thought was still moving through his head, Evelyn had already pressed his hand to the smart lock panel and registered his fingerprint. The door clicked open.
The room was large. A central conference table with four chairs arranged around it, a wall-spanning screen mounted to one side.
From the layout, a Red Gloves unit capped out at four members.
Currently, one member was occupying a chair with her legs propped up on the table edge, scrolling through something on a tablet.
She looked up when they came in. A quick, easy sound of acknowledgment.
"Hey! You must be the new one — the old partner Evelyn kept mentioning, right?"
She set the tablet down and wandered over without urgency, extending a hand.
"Hello. You must be Eva." Raphael shook it. "Good to meet you."
She was a full head shorter than him, wearing the kind of casual home clothes that seemed like an odd choice for a Red Gloves base, hood included.
Her complexion was a warm medium brown, her eyes noticeably large, and a faint scar traced a shallow line across her young face.
She looked him up and down with frank curiosity. Her gaze got stuck on his eyes for a few seconds.
Then she sighed.
"Great. Another one with interesting eyes." She clicked her tongue.
"Why is it always deep brown for me? You're both so... fictional-looking. It's exhausting."
Raphael opened his mouth, closed it, and glanced sideways at Evelyn.
She smiled serenely and gave a small wave. The gesture said everything: this is just Eva, don't worry about it.
Eva cleared her throat.
"Anyway. I'm Eva — just Eva, no surname. I handle technical support for the unit. Hacking, remote assistance, that kind of thing. If it involves a screen, it's probably my problem."
Evelyn settled into a chair at the table and pressed two fingers to her temple with the quiet expression of someone whose head was still slightly complaining.
"I'm the Mage. I handle flank offense and cover, and serve as primary combat when the situation needs it."
"Mage?"
Raphael's brow shifted. The word implied a categorization he hadn't considered — that transcendents weren't just one thing, that there were divisions within the designation.
Evelyn made a small, guilty sound.
"I realize I forgot to explain that." She straightened slightly.
"Transcendents generally fall into three schools and four roles."
She started counting on her fingers.
"The three schools are the Demon School, the Angel School, and the Hunter School. More dramatic than it sounds — it just describes where the power comes from.
Demon School practitioners derive their abilities through Demon fusion.
Angel School uses prayer and ritual magic.
Hunter School is self-derived — Demon contracts fall here, warlocks fall here, and—"
She paused very slightly.
"—witches."
She moved on just a fraction faster than she'd been going before.
"The four roles are the combat specializations.
A Hunter handles the front line — direct engagement, absorbing damage. The most exposed position.
A Mage provides flank output and fire support, or cover when needed.
A Hacker manages technical operations and remote coordination."
A small pause. "And a Priest. Which we don't currently have."
Raphael nodded slowly. The positioning made sense — with vampire regeneration as his primary asset, Hunter was the obvious designation. Built to take hits and keep going.
That thought led to another.
"Your unit's been running for a while, hasn't it? You didn't have a Hunter before?"
Evelyn and Eva looked at each other.
The same expression on both faces. Something small and resigned.
"We did," Evelyn said. "He died."
A beat of quiet.
Raphael didn't fill it with anything. At the end of it, the Red Gloves was still a department, still an organization, and dying in the line of duty —
When the things you were fighting could tear through walls and come back from bullets — was, by the metrics of this world, almost a gentle end.
Eva slapped her palm on the table, and the weight in the air broke apart cleanly.
She grinned — wide and completely unself-conscious.
"Nothing to be sad about. Honestly, we might all die. Why dwell on what's behind us when there's something right in front?"
She picked up her tablet and swiped it once. The wall screen flickered to life.
"Which brings us to — our first assignment together."
She pulled up the case file.
"A haunting report. Vincent Street. Classic ghost house setup."
She scrolled past the initial incident summary.
"The complainant is a resident who lost their second child to a sudden infant death. Shortly after, strange sounds started appearing at night — every night, exclusively after dark.
They brought in someone from the church for an exorcism. First attempt, no effect. Second attempt—"
She paused for effect. It was a short pause, but deliberate.
"—the priest never made contact again. When the complainant went up to check the attic, they found him hanging from a ceiling beam."
Two photographs appeared on the screen. The complainant. A middle-aged priest in clerical dress.
"The family fled. They haven't been back since. The body is still up there."
Evelyn propped her chin in her hand, studying the screen.
"Sounds like a ghost-type Demon."
"That's my read."
Eva closed the file and held up a compact device — small, sleek, covered in a grid of symbols that sat at the intersection of circuitry and something older and harder to name.
She tossed it across the table.
Raphael caught it without looking.
"Drop that at the attic entrance when you arrive. I can run a remote projection through it and scope the space ahead of you."
She was looking at him specifically as she said it.
"Saves you from walking blind into whatever's waiting up there."
He turned the device over in his hand. High-tech on the surface. The markings told a different story.
Evelyn lifted a briefcase onto the table and snapped it open.
A short blade — pure silver, the edge catching the light.
A revolver in silver-white finish, .357 Magnum. A box of specialized rounds sitting in molded foam beside it.
His loadout.
He reached across and took it. Checked the weight of the revolver in his hand, assessed the balance.
Then he looked up.
Evelyn was already watching him, and when their eyes met, something almost involuntary moved across both their faces at the same time —
Not quite a smile, but the shape of one, the quiet recognition of something that didn't need to be said.
It had been a long time.
"Ready, old partner?"