All was dark.
Darkness, something Marcus despised. He remembered darkness, pain, a child's voice crying into the night. Then those eyes, were they his?
He slowly opened his eyes, a garbage rat sat on his chest, looking at him as it twitched it's whiskers. Slowly lifting an arm, he batted the creature off him. He wasn't dead? His body made him hundreds of promises of pain, but he wasn't dead. The beast spared him?
Slowly propping himself against the brick wall he was just thrown against what seemed only minutes ago. He noticed the dagger at his feet, the events slowly played back for him. With an outstretched hand he slowly placed the dagger back into his boot, the last vial of holy water was gone. Must have been damaged in the fight, he sighed. The Fraternity would definitely should have retrieved his weapons by now.
They were good at concealing the ugly truth of this world, that there were in fact things that went bump in the night. Monsters that tore babes from their crib and feasted on the flesh of innocents. His brothers were the wall that kept the ugly truth from spilling out into the night.
Concealing the truth, the Werewolf that did this to him said that too. It knew, of him, of his talents, but what did it mean?
The rage he felt this night, it was new, something inside him was angry, disgusted with the monsters, and it wanted to rip them apart limb from limb with it's bare hands. He realized that this dark passenger and himself shared that bond, but he knew the weapons of the Fraternity did better then his bare hands. He gently checked himself for injuries, the rib was already healed, his body ached, but no long term injuries.
What did the Chaplain say? He was blessed? He slowly tried to unravel the past, recalling incidents of his training, where he was treated differently then the other students. He was broken, pushed harder, and yet he came back for more. Even his weapons were specially made for him, he could feel his faith was slipping, that this beast not only broke his body, but his spirit as well.
Easing himself to his feet, he searched for his cell phone. He found the device, he was about to dial the number and stopped. He gave his bike a final examination, taking the few relics from the bike he valued and began to stumble home.
Xennie, what would they do to her? He was tempted to limp to the hospital and see if she was ok, but he knew he needed to get home. Plus if he ventured near the hospital before going home and reporting in the events of the night to the Fraternity, minus a side trip. They would be suspicious, and after what the beast told him, he wanted to keep a little bit to himself. Even as he began to limp home, he could feel all eyes on him. Something inside began to shake loose, looking at the sheep in the crowd. So ignorant of the world beyond their own lives, he caught a reflection of himself in a store window. What he saw there answered his question, he looked pretty beat up. His duster, hung in tatters, the silver lined armor he wore underneath glittered out, mixed with dried blood.
A black limo pulled alongside him, drawing to a stop. An elderly gentleman rolled down the window. They were here for him, he got into the vehicle. His pistols sat in the vehicle already, along with several of his lost daggers from the fight.
"You disappoint us Marcus, this is the second incident where you have compromised us. These monsters will not give you any quarter, why did you falter?" Marcus bowed his head.
"I am sorry, there was a monster that escaped us, I got on my bike to pursue it, however I was trapped and rendered unconscious. My bike is destroyed, along with my armor." The old man sneered as he surveyed the damaged brother.
"Yes, I see that. We shall have replacement equipment placed in your home," he quickly typed instructions onto a small PDA, Alexander mentioned you vanished from the hunt for a civilian. Was she allright?" His eyes pierced into Marcus, he adjusted in the seat. Something inside him felt cornered, he restrained himself from glaring at the Elder.
"Yes, she merely fainted. I took her to the hospital to ensure no monsters made her into their own," The voice echoed in his mind, he ground his teeth as the beast mocked him.
"We will watch her, guide her. If she turns we will protect her from your brethren."
He flexed his hands into fists, the leather straining to keep them contained. Would she become one of them? If so, where would he stand? His mind was racing, the beasts are taught to lie to us, but, nobody outside the Fraternity knew of his talents, what set him apart from his brothers. Why he was the one taking on the hardest jobs, how he pulled himself from the brink of death so many times.
The elder gestured to the driver, "We will have a new bike delivered tomorrow, your clothing is inside, I trust we will be more careful from here on out Brother Marcus?"
That word felt so wrong right now, Marcus gave a nod as he gathered his equipment and exited the vehicle. He limped to the door of his new apartment, gently turning the key. He wished that girl was here, the scent of some odd dish wafting into his nostrils, the sound of the radio blaring in the background. Even her odd attempt at dancing before she realized he was standing there, and her face turning a deep crimson before going about her day.
There was nothing though, just the dark. He saw a new duster, ammunition, vials, and other assorted items sitting on the couch waiting for him.
However, she wasn't there. He stripped off the damaged items and let his body fall on the couch. Tomorrow, he would go to her. He had to, didn't he? Maybe he would research any known werewolves that match the description of his attacker. He needed to know more, for the first time in Marcus' life. He felt truly alone, he let sleep claim him to a dreamless state and hopefully the dawn will bring a new path, and Xennie.