“Denied.”<br/><br/>There’d be little seeing her face, as goggles covered her eyes, and she was half-masked. As the rest, she dressed in black and modified Kevlar, aflash with silver, and bulked. By smell, her womanness would be told, though without, she could be a man as any. She carefully neared, in sync with another hunter on a branch above, aimed and ready. At first, beast reverting to man had been shocking. She knew the wolf up close and personal, after wrenching canines and eyeballs for necklaces, after learning their dead bodies. But the human? Never had she touched one. Did the skin feel lupine-like and strange? Did they fever? Scarr was too focused to take stock, yet for the tiny bit she did, they seemed normal. The pale woman was just as she was, and the men were just as those she rode ragged in motel beds. They were not unbelievably alien like she assumed, and even tried bargaining.<br/><br/>“I do want a<i>single</i>werewolf alive,” she reiterated. Her subordinates had already heard, so there was no rescinding. “Otherwise, I can’t let you leave, I’m sure you know how this goes.” She saw every NV face: the giant, who might’ve had a foot on her, the women, especially the swarthier who’d almost killed, and him, the talker. She sized him the most, and her stare could be felt. Hunters ended lives same as vampires, werewolves, and other supernaturals, and the weight of myriad murders carried with her eyes. From what he said, his death would matter enough to make the alpha retaliate. In her experience, that was because they were mates or offspring; she didn’t wonder much on what. Scarr shifted and made sure they’d all clearly hear it. “I doubt your alpha could kill every hunter in New York, but we’d like them to come into the open and try.”<br/><br/>Harsh. Unrelenting. It was just how she had to be. “I’m sorry,” she said, maybe to the sacrificed hunters, maybe to herself, maybe to the wolves. It’d be unknown. Gunfire, though, would definitely be known.<br/><br/>Those remaining started shooting.