Y'all were begging for more, how could I refuse? Unfortunately exams are coming up and I need to concentrate on them, so do expect these to be a little slow

In war, there is no prise for the runner-up – General Omar Bradley

The wind picked up, rustling the trees and depositing a little snow on the back of his cloak and hat then it was moved again as he crept forward, the grey-splodged-white of his mantle moved as he finally saw his target, a Boarbatusk some five metres tall. This thing had been terrorising nearby farmers' livestock and after pooling their money they had more than enough money to pay for his services. Best of all, this was all off the record; no fees, no taxes, just hard Lien that now sat buried at a nearby river along with notes set up to mail themselves regarding his position and the money's in case something went wrong.

He put down the barrel and receiver he was carrying; he'd abandoned his usual Mule M1970 for a much larger 20mm anti-tank rifle. The mere five rounds he was able to carry in his backpack dropping like a brick into the white snow as he quietly set up the spot, digging in with his hands until he had built up a rest on which to mount the gun and began to assemble the thing; attaching the barrel and looking down it to make sure it was straight.

The Grimm was still down there, sleeping perhaps? Of course, Grimm don't need sleep, 'so perhaps its healing' concluded he as he looked over the thing's hide to find several dents in the head's outer bone, obviously caused by firearms from how little cracks spread out from it and through the read markings on its headpiece. He undid his pack, glancing at the assortment of shells he brought. One HESH (High Explosive Squash Head) shell, marked by its yellow head, Three HEAT (High Explosive, Anti-tank), obvious by the odd flat head and the last, a prised APDS-FS (Armor Piercing, Discarding Sabot, Fin-Stabilized) round, capable of going through pretty much anything in a single solid hit but being rather expensive due to the Tungsten penetrator within.

Of course, supply wasn't much of a problem for him, he'd made friends with a few of the technicians back at base and they were happy to make a few shells on the side for him for a small fee. They tried to report this initially but it turned out command was happy to have people doing things on the side provided they weren't illegal or against the code; neither of which said anything about not hunting Grimm.

-BOOM- the freshly loaded HESH went off, It was the cheapest kind of round and while he didn't expect it to do much that wasn't the point. The point was to get the Grimm to face him head-on as while HEAT could probably kill it, it needed a hard surface to activate, that would be the thing's crest and horns.

The round impacted, obviously causing the Grimm some pain as it jumped up as the explosive went off on its belly, probably with some serious internal bleeding from how it stumbled around before finding the insect that bit it and making a wild dash for him. He loaded the HEAT, letting it fly as soon as possible. The impact didn't even slow the beast as it ran to cover the last 500m to him and trample him into the snow. There was no more time to hesitate; he would have to use the APDS-FS, his wallet could cry about it later.

The monster was a mere 200 metres away when he was finally ready to fire. Lining up the notches on his sight he centred it right where he saw the cracks earlier…

Now what most people wouldn't realise is just how fast one of these things flies at nearly 1000 metres per second, that along with the hyperdense body of the SABOT itself resulted in what could only be described as both horrifying and fascinating. He watched as the arrow freed itself from its jacket and streamed to the cracked area where it pushed in, hard… the skull, crest and horns forced to either shatter completely around the impact zone or be dragged within the Grimm's skull as the tungsten penetrator continued and eventually passed out the other side; passing through a few trees before disappearing into the white.

The beast was dead and the contract over. The only thing was that the 500-ton hunk of meat was still charging at him at a good 100 Km/h and it wasn't stopping. Thanking his mental fortitude, Nicholas Bergen crouched down into his position the thing flew over him and landed in a few trees which one by one snapped until it finally stopped moving.

Snapping a few pictures to prove he'd done it, Bergen picked up his bag and gun, took them apart and set off for the farmstead. He took out his phone and cancelled the letter, he'd collect the buried money shortly.