- Tue Mar 13, 2018 9:00 am
Two oh four? Really?
”Shit, maybe I’m the fatass…you only have four pounds on me…though…I clocked myself at five forty three for a mile and a half the other night on a patrol,” He smirked in pride at the brag. It wasn’t fair that he was beyond peak human standard, but did that matter? He may have been shorter…Midget wasn’t a new moniker for him, but scrawny was a name that would never apply again. He was a solid ninety point seven kilos of bulk and he worked to keep it.
God, thank you for this night…I needed this.
Matt shot up the small prayer of gratitude with a happy sigh as he and Ev both wound down from the laughing and camaraderie. Ever since he’d retired, he’d felt like an outsider. All of his life had been given to a community of the elite with their eyes outward into the darkness, ready to defend against whatever lurked. The entire mindset of readiness and willingness to kill and die for a cause twisted a man in such a way that it made it difficult to untwist after coming home. In an odd sense, he missed the cycle of deploy, fight, return, and prepare to deploy again. Civilians just didn’t understand the life on the razor’s edge and the kind of humor that it bred. It was genuinely nice to just relax and let the civilized face drop away and just be a soldier again.
But they weren’t that, were they? Neither of them…Matt was a mutant, Everett was a vampire. They’d never just be soldiers again. If Everett’s polite bowing out wasn’t indicative of that reality, then what would be? Matt listened and caught Everett’s meaning clearly. Vampires didn’t eat food. The legends must have been true then about blood as well. That was one of the things Mi5 hadn’t really caught onto yet…the legends of what went bump in the night weren’t stories. They weren’t fantasy. They were warnings, culturally passed down from generation to generation about why you locked your doors at night, about why you avoided strangers, about why you learned to defend yourself. Generations of their forefathers had stood with their backs to the light and their weapons drawn to the things in the shadow…
So what were they supposed to do now that they were the things in the shadows? How was Matt supposed to react to the concept that his friend, with whom he had crusaded against the dark, became one of the things that preyed on people? The literary embodiments of evil were the things that ate people, used them as their playthings, destroyed the concept of sovereignty and free will…magic, monsters, and shadows. Fables and Fairytales were full of fae, vampires, werewolves, and other nasty things…so how was Matt supposed to react?
Well, what was the reaction he wanted? Wasn’t he just as much a monster of the night, now? Preying on the dregs of society, hunting, destroying, mauling and taking their freewill? There was only one reaction that a soldier of his caliber could have to this situation.
Matt unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and rolled his sleeve up, then offered his bared arm. His expression went from pensive and thoughtful to sympathetic and soft.
”Bruv, I told you, whatever you need, if I have it, I’ll offer it. If…if you’d rather go elsewhere, cool. But you don’t need to waste that effort, I mean…”
He shrugged instead of finishing the sentence. What was the proper way to offer your blood? Hell if he knew…