Ding dong, the witch is dead!
The sunlight tomorrow is going to taste especially sweet. Thanks to us the city is going to go about another day in relative peace.

And me, I'm a free agent. Well, not really, I'm back in the Army actually, albeit a different one. Tomorrow I go and meet my girl. I'm going to spend all day with her, get some sleep, have a hot bath and go out for dinner. The day after that - it's fang kicking time.

But why? Why is Apolloin no longer sweating the big bad? Could it be? Yes - the big bad is no more. We blew down his house. We ate him all up. Elvis has left the building. Here's how it went down.

We must be the sloppiest crew ever to take down a minor deity. There was almost more fighting between us than against the bad guys. We barely broke up on good terms. The fight started the day I revealed my supernatural origins to Father Jack, our alcoholic Inquisitor. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! Unless the spanish inquisition has run out of breath mints, of course, in which case Father Jack smells more like Jim Beam and can be discerned 30m away, downwind. But like the Murphy's, I'm not bitter...

Moving right along from our fight about letting the religious extremist who had threatened to kill me hold the knife that drops its victims straight into the abyss, we move on to the teams decision to fuck over the Technomancers. Sorry boys, I'd love to have played straight with you about this, but frankly I don't trust anyone with that thing. Not that I had a choice, you understand, it was all I could do to get Jack to part with the fucking thing. Actually it's a minor victory that I didn't wind up getting ventilated shoulderblades myself - but Jack can do the math.

Yeah, that's right buddy, you managed to lose a popularity contest to the 'Demon' that nobody trusts. Live with that.

We rolled on the Big Evil's swanky mausoleum penthouse. A diversion was caused by Saul prepping a tree with Gasoline while I introduced it to my favourite thing - fire. A nice blazing pyre pulled half of the Antediluvian's guards off him and we snuck in via the side door. Tut Tut boys, you REALLY weren't paying attention were you?

No guards in the mausoleum itself - but the crypt had been cracked. What would await us down the hole? Popping on our night vision gear we made our way down and prepared for combat. Which we got - one of the last Alaster's was still doing his job and trying to protect his master. How sweet. Poor bastard didn't even land a blow on us - I put his lights out with a bottle, spraying him with gasoline. Father Jack smote him. Now, much as I hate the miserable and judgemental bastard, I'm something of an expert on the subject of smiting - and that was QUALITY smiting. The sword slashes, fractured skull and the burning from the lit gas really just put the icing on the cake. 4/5 Alasters agreed that fucking with the Hunters was a stupid move. Now for the bossman.

He was laid out very prettily, long hair brushed out and fanned over the pillow. Jack stuck him with magic knife and a vortex took what passed for his soul to the Abyss. Almost dragged ME along for the ride, but faithful Peter protected me. I owe that guy big - and I will deliver. First up, I should return his property. I will, Pete, I promised.

Leaving the grave we found that the mausoleum had been surrounded by guards. However will our heroes escape? It involved explosives, of course. We ran for it before the guards recovered from the shock of the casualties and the blast. We made it handily - I flew Saul and Peter out myself.

So there we go. The deed is done. The hunters beat the spread and actually got the bad guy! Even the vampires owe us big style - but the real reason we did it is for the millions of mortals who will get up tomorrow and not notice the difference. That's what we were aiming for and it's what we achieved.

Farewell to you, Sean, Dave and Saul. Here's hoping your lives become less complicated. Here's to you, Peter, know that you'll see me again, about the time you've begun to doubt it'll happen. And to you, John, I wish a far away assignment where we'll never cross paths again. I hope you've had the courage to stick the barrel of one of those SMG's you tote around in your mouth before you find out I'm right in 18 months.