Prologue
The walls around me shake as bombs rain down on the abandoned city above. We sit shoulder to shoulder along a concrete wall in the pitch darkness of a long abandoned underground tunnel that once served as a way for Adel and others to move about Esthar undetected. The air we breathe is stagnant and smells of decay and moisture. Things are rotting down here and the walls leak from pipes broken by bomb blasts. The air is heavy with dust as each explosion stirs up what had long ago settled. Mold grows unchecked and every pathway leading out is slick with it.
It was not an ideal bomb shelter, not a place I'd ever imagined myself dying. Especially not the part about dying in perfect darkness, but we'd all agreed; no flashlights. None of us wants to see what's coming. Dying will be easier this way.
Underground is only marginally safer than above. At any moment, those neglected tunnels could collapse under the weight of a hundred sky scrapers crumbling to the ground, but this is better than being out in the open. At least here, we have a chance for survival. There was an even greater chance we would be trapped as all of our escape routes caved in or were buried in rubble. Still better than what's going on above.
No one speaks as we listen to the not so distant explosions above ground. No one dares. I can hear their ragged breaths and every now and then, a muffled sob or two, but there's nothing for us to say. We agreed that there would be no goodbyes, no matter what happened.
The next blast comes, then another, and I hold my breath and say a silent prayer for this to end. The explosions are getting closer. Louder. I've been counting since the first blast. I'm up to thirteen.
Somewhere in the tunnel, something comes undone. The distinct sound of rocks tumbling, followed by muffled splashes tells me that the tunnel's infrastructure isn't as sound as we'd hoped. Blast by blast, our shelter is weakening. How many more before it caves in?
The woman beside me must have heard it too. She clasps my hand and threads her fingers through mine . Her grip is strong, her palm cool and dry. I expect no less of her. Though the world above was coming apart and there's a very real chance we might all die, she will never let me see her sweat. Or anyone else for that matter. She's too tough for all that.
She's a woman I'm not sure if I like or not, but it doesn't really matter who she is at the moment. It doesn't matter that her tacit nature scares me as much as it intrigues me or that she has this way of looking at me that makes me think she can see straight into my soul and has found me lacking. It doesn't matter. Down in the darkness, we are faceless and nameless people who just want to survive and we need each other to get through this.
The next blast is directly above us. I feel it in the floor and in the walls. The sheer volume of the explosion makes my ears pop.
Fourteen.
Small bits of concrete and dust rain down on us and I flinch as a chunk strikes my temple. Somewhere further down, a wall or ceiling gives way under the weight of the collapsed building above us. I can taste the dust in the air.
Without thinking about it, I press the woman's head against my chest and put my arms around her to shield her from the debris. She tucks her knees under mine and her arms wrap around my waist, as if she understands that I offer her my protection, meager though it may be. I might not be sure if I like her or not, but I do know that she's more important than I am. Her life is more valuable than mine by virtue of being who she is. These people need her more than they need me.
Me? I'm just a fuck-up that nobody likes. If my last act is preserving her life, then I'll leave this world with no regrets. I don't particularly want to die, but I'm not afraid to go out this way if it means she lives.
A second blast, louder than the first shakes the floor we sit on and I swear I can feel the concrete beneath us ripple.
Fifteen.
Unlike before, there's a long stretch of silence. Nothing moves and no one breathes. I wonder if it's finally over.
A moment later the room echoes with the sound of a loud crack overhead, followed by the heavy thuds of of large chunks of concrete as they tumble onto the ruined tile floor. Something above screams like metal being twisted beyond recognition. I don't need light to know that the ceiling is caving in.
I should be panicking, but all I can think of is this brave woman in my arms. She has to live, even if I don't. I twist my body to shield as much of her as I possibly can. I picture a slab of concrete dangling just above us in the darkness. Any second now, it would give way and that would be the end.
A strange kind of acceptance steals over me as I breathe in the scent of her hair, which somehow still smells of something floral and sweet underneath the layers of dust and sweat. I'm glad that I have someone to hold onto. It doesn't matter who it is, I'm just glad that there was someone and that someone was holding on as tight as I was.
"No goodbyes," I whisper in her ear. "No regrets."
She lifts her head from my chest and even in the darkness, I can feel her penetrating stare. I'm sure she can somehow see me, even in a dark so absolute it seems to be a living, breathing thing. She lays her palm against my cheek and I lean into it and welcome her to me. For just a moment, her lips touch mine, then they are gone. It leaves me with a deep, aching sadness for reasons I don't fully understand.
"No regrets," she echoes. "No goodbyes."
All around us, the mantra is repeated softly by the others. Her lips find mine again and she kisses me deeper this time, abandoning any pretense of modesty. I can't help but kiss her back with everything I have in me.
If I'm going to die, this is definitely the way to go.
Six Months Earlier...
Seifer didn't know what he'd been thinking when he'd decided to run away to Trabia. In his head, it was a chance to rebuild himself, to shake off the lingering threads of Ultimecia's control, and perhaps escape the hate-filled glares he got from nearly everyone he encountered. He had wanted and needed the solitude at the time, but now, as he stared out at the snow covered landscape outside the cabin window, he decided Trabia was not one of his favorite places. He was essentially stranded here, deep in northern Trabia and there was no one around for miles. Until the spring thaw, his truck was an ice sculpture on the front lawn and his only way out was a pair of snow skis and a narrow hunting trail that led to the nearest town.
In the beginning, he'd loved not having to deal with people. He'd loved the view and the quiet and the isolation. He'd loved the fact that he didn't have to listen to Raijin and Fujin constantly bicker at one another or have to see that look in Fujin's eyes. The fact that Fujin seemed in a constant state of worry over him drove Seifer nuts. The fact that Raijin couldn't shut up for more than five minutes at a time had driven Seifer bat-shit crazy. So he'd left them behind. To regroup, he'd told them. To think things over and get his head back on straight.
And now, Seifer was bored. It was no longer an adventure, it was a self-imposed prison.
Worse, he was low on supplies. He could manage for a few days more, especially if he took to the trail and hunted up some game, but it was damn cold out there. Even the warmth his chi-magic provided wasn't enough to take the edge off the bitter wind or the mind-numbing cold.
With a sigh, he took a swallow of whiskey from a nearly empty bottle and dropped into a rocking chair by the window to stare out at the snow. After nearly three months, he'd grown tired of the view, but it was the only thing there was to look at besides the walls. The cabin didn't have a television, which Seifer hadn't cared about in the beginning. He'd never had the patience or inclination to sit down and watch a stupid screen for more than five minutes at a time and he doubted he ever would.
In coming here, he'd intended to cut himself off from news, current affairs and the like, but fuck if he wouldn't give all his belongings for even a small television right now. He'd been in a vacuum so long, he had no idea what was going on in the world beyond this mountain top.
He sat there until the sun fell below the mountains and watched the light fade from the day. Even in total darkness, the snow seemed to glow with a blue-violet phosphorescence under the pale sliver of moon overhead.
Fucking snow. Seifer was sick of it. He swore, the next time he got the bright idea to run away, he was going to find an island somewhere warm. Some place without all this goddamn snow.
Eventually, he got up and threw another log on the fire and rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat. He selected a can of mixed vegetables, drained the water off and ate them directly out of the can. It wasn't exactly a gourmet dinner, but it would suffice.
Maybe, he should just cut his losses and head back to civilization. What was the point? He'd come here to be alone and figure out what he was going to do with his life. The first part had been a success, but the second, he was no closer to knowing where he belonged than he did when he'd moved in. He knew who he was, but he no longer knew what he wanted out of this life. His chance to be a boy hero hadn't worked out so well, and in truth, heroism no longer held any appeal for him.
He didn't want or expect redemption either. He had been a willing participant in the beginning. He'd believed in Edea. And if he felt like telling the truth, he would have to admit he'd loved the power she'd given him. He'd loved every bit of it. Being in control, the guy that called the shots, well, that had felt pretty goddamn amazing and he couldn't truthfully say he regretted that part.
That didn't mean he didn't feel guilty, but he didn't think about that if he didn't have to. Feeling guilty for something he couldn't change was a waste of time. Nothing he said or did would bring those that died back to life. No such thing as a do-over. He would have to live with the consequences for the rest of his life, and there was no reason to allow himself to be eaten alive by guilt over something he couldn't take back.
There was an odd skittering noise at the door, like claws scratching at the battered, weathered wood of the porch and he went to the window. As he peered out, he saw nothing out of the ordinary and figured it was probably just a raccoon in search of an easy meal. He might have shot it, skinned it and eaten it if it had been worth the effort. Raccoon wasn't terrible, but there wasn't a hell of a lot of meat on them and it was more work than it was worth unless he was starving. Which he wasn't. Not yet, anyway.
It was time to get out of this place. He'd been cooped up here too long. Perhaps in the morning, he'd pack his things, ski into town and get the fuck out. The idea of being in civilization again held no appeal, but neither did spending another day pacing the floor while the snow piled up outside.
His phone rang, startling him out of his musings and he set the canned vegetables aside. When he saw the number on the display, he smiled.
"Speaking of bitches," he said by way of greeting.
"Man, where you at?" Raijin's voice said.
There was a strange, panicky quality to Raijin's question, one that didn't quite fit the man's normally jovial tone. Unconsciously, Seifer stood up straighter and did an automatic 360 sweep of the room.
"Same place I've been for months," Seifer said. "Why?"
"Shit's gone sideways, man," Raijin said. "I dunno what's going on, but people are dying, ya know?"
"What? Like, war?"
"Dy- eve- -ick, don't know, li- a -rus, man."
"You're breaking up," Seifer said. He moved closer to the window where the signal was stronger. He had four of five bars. The shitty reception must have been on Raijin's end.
"Don't -ome -ack. Fu- si- and I think -s -ing."
"Rai, I don't understand a fucking thing you're saying."
From outside came the strange skittering sound again. This time, louder and more insistent, as if something was trying to claw its way into the cabin through the door. Gooseflesh raised on Seifer's arms and he stared out the window again, a sense of unease creeping up over him for the first time since he'd come here.
There was nothing out there that he could see. In the darkness beyond the window, nothing moved. Yet he had the strangest feeling that he was being watched.
"You there?" he barked into the phone.
"-lp!"
The line went dead. Seifer lifted the phone from his ear with a curse and called Raijin back, but it went straight to voicemail. He tossed the phone on the table and scratched his chin. Whatever Raijin's last word had been, it had sounded like a plea.
Help.
A loud bang at the front door startled Seifer from his concern for his friend. The sound came again, and Seifer grabbed his hunting rifle, stepped toward the door and lifted the weapon.
The festivities in Timber had been going on for hours. In celebration of the town's recent liberation from Galbadian rule, the place had gone all out with the celebration and nearly every citizen had converged on the main square to party. Just about everyone was drunk, Squall included.
He wasn't much of a drinker, but being a keynote speaker at the official reinstatement ceremony, Squall had been forced to lift his glass to toast the liberation repeatedly. Not to mention, the drinks he'd had before hand to quiet his total distaste for public speaking. Though his job these days required him to speak from time to time, it wasn't all that uncommon for him to have a drink before a speech, just to take the edge off. Only this time, the town officials had practically poured it down his throat.
Following that, drinks somehow wound up in his hand every time his glass was empty. He tried to pace himself, but after being accused of being a teetotaler by more than one person, he'd given in, imbibed and now he had a good, solid buzz going and he couldn't seem to stop grinning.
Through hooded eyes, he watched Rinoa socialize with former resistance members and politicians and he could clearly feel her excitement. She was nearly as drunk as he was but she handled alcohol far better than he did. Half of her giddiness came from the idea that she'd finally achieved what she'd worked so hard for and she was riding the high for all it was worth. It made Squall happy to see it. She'd worked so hard for this and she deserved to celebrate this success.
Zell dropped onto the bench beside him and his head hit the table with a thud. Squall's grin widened and he let out a sound that was almost a giggle as Zell cracked one eye open to look at him blearily.
"Stupid booze," Zell slurred. "Can't drink no more."
A moment later, Zell's eye closed and he started to snore.
A pair of arms slipped around Squall's shoulders from behind but he didn't need to look to know who it was. He could identify her by touch and scent alone. He gave a hum of pleasure as her cheek pressed against his and he drew his Sorceress into his lap.
Under normal circumstances, Squall would never have done that in public. He preferred to keep things professional between them when others were around, but with all the alcohol flowing in his veins, he just didn't care. His grin widened and he drew his hand along her thigh, liking the feel of her bare skin against his palm.
"Woah," Rinoa said, eyes wide. "How drunk are you?"
"One drink away from a public intoxication charge."
Rinoa snorted and then giggled into his shoulder.
"Still better off than punchy over there," Rinoa said, nudging Zell with the toe of her boot. Zell didn't budge.
There was a girlish peal of laughter from the dance floor near the band and Squall glanced up to see Selphie launch herself at Irvine. Irvine nearly fell over, but Selphie was undeterred. She covered his face in kisses, stole his hat and then darted off through the crowd.
Squall shook his head. Under the best of circumstances, they bickered endlessly like kids. Add alcohol to the mix and there was sure to be an international incident involving rainbows and explosions.
"If any of us are going to wind up with charges tonight, my money's on Selphie," Rinoa said.
"As if that was ever in doubt."
Rinoa withdrew an envelope from the pocket of her suit jacket and waved it in front of Squall's eyes. He seized it from her grasp and stared at it. It was a copy of the original contract with SeeD, the one that had started everything. Squall hitched up an eyebrow.
"You are officially freed from your contractual agreement to the Forest Owls," she said.
"About time," Squall said. "I was getting tired of being your errand boy."
"Hey, coffee is a very important part of the negotiation process," Rinoa said. "Not my fault I kept having to remind you that you were under contract, and the contract says -"
"Blah, blah, blah," he said and covered her mouth with his hand. "I'm a free man now. I don't take orders from you anymore."
"Oh, you think so?" she asked as she pried his hand off her face. "You're still my Knight and that means you have to do what I say, when I say it."
"Nope. Promise was limited to you becoming evil, which will never happen."
"I'm evil before my morning coffee," she said. "Meaning, unless you'd like me to start shooting ice darts at you, you're still obligated to make sure my veins are pumped full of caffeine by 8 am every morning. Otherwise..."
He cut her off with a kiss.
"Hush," he murmured.
His hand settled on her knee and she shifted toward him. Soft lips grazed his neck and he shivered when her fingers twined through his hair.
He loved this. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be this happy, he never would have believed it. Between the alcohol and the feel of Rinoa's body next to his, he felt like nothing bad could ever touch him again. He would be eternally grateful to her for seeing something worthy in him when he hadn't seen it himself. How she'd known the thing he so desperately needed was the very thing he was so desperately afraid of was beyond him, but he was glad she'd never given up on him. Loving and being loved felt good. Better than he'd ever imagined.
Once upon a time, he'd seen love and emotional attachment as a weakness. Now that he was on the other side of the fence, he knew how very wrong he'd been. It didn't make him weak. She made him stronger and those parts of him that had been cracked had slowly but surely been mended by her affection.
"Wanna get out of here?" he purred in her ear.
"What do you have in mind?"
She knew exactly what he had in mind, but she played coy. He nipped at her ear gently before nuzzling the flesh below it. He felt her shiver in his arms and heard her happy sigh. Emboldened, slipped his hand further up her thigh and tucked it just under the hem of her skirt.
"Hands to yourself, Leonhart," she murmured. "We're in public, remember?"
"Fuck the public," he said and nipped her ear again.
"People are watching."
"Do you care?"
"Normally, I'd say no," Rinoa said. "But my father looks like he's about to rip your head off."
"What?" Squall asked.
Ten feet away, General Caraway stood glaring daggers at him. When Squall met his eyes, the older man's eyebrow shot up and his frown deepened. Squall grimaced and sat up straighter and offered the man a stare of challenge in return. He was not intimidated by the General and he never would be, no matter what the man's personal feelings about him or his relationship with Rinoa were.
"Leonhart," Caraway said as he approached.
"Save your lecture."
The General looked amused, if not a bit irritated as Rinoa slowly extracted herself from Squall's lap.
"As much as I'd love to make sure you never see my daughter again," Caraway said, "I have other information to share with you."
"Right now?" Squall asked, put off by the prospect of having to work when he was supposed to be enjoying himself.
"Now."
Rinoa slid over to the bench and Squall was resentful of Caraway's interruption. Though she was gone from his lap, Squall could still feel the warmth of her body against his. Had they not delayed their escape, he would likely be dragging her into bed right now instead of about to have a work-related conversation while under the influence with a man he detested.
Squall crossed his arms as Caraway took a seat across from him.
"What is it?"
"I wanted you to be aware of a situation developing in Deling City," Caraway said. "More than likely, it will require SeeD intervention as soon as the morning."
"If you want to contract SeeD, get in touch with Xu."
"You're the commander. Your orders supersede hers."
"And you seem to think you're above protocol," Squall said. "I don't make the contracts, I approve them. Or not."
"Put your personal feelings aside," Caraway said. "This is important."
Squall scowled at the man and cocked his head.
"Get to the point."
"I don't know how to explain it," Caraway said, genuinely perplexed. "I haven't seen it with my own eyes, but I'm getting reports of unrest in the city."
"Unrest."
"Civil disobedience, extreme violence," Caraway said. "The hospitals and clinics are overflowing."
"And you want us to step in because your military can't handle it."
Caraway's glare was hard and full of hate, but Squall sensed that he was right. Had he been in a state of mind to ask questions, he might have asked Caraway for a full rundown of the situation, but he was still inebriated and still in a bit of a daze from the prospect of drunken sex with his girlfriend.
"Reports are sketchy, but whatever this is, it has had an impact on my troops."
"What do you mean an impact?"
"They're compromised."
In Esthar, Quistis sat across from Laguna and Kiros, hashing out the final details of the soon to open Esthar Garden, located on the outskirts of the city. Given the technological advancement in Esthar, the possibilities for a different kind of SeeD education were limitless. She was excited by the idea of being the Headmaster of her own Garden, but even more excited by the thought of training SeeDs that were just as good at combat as they were at information technology. The very idea of it made the intellectual in her sing with delight at the challenge she was being offered.
Not only that, Laguna was in favor of a flight school, which Selphie and Nida would head. He also wanted a Para-magic department that would devote time and resources to research and development of magical goods, alternatives to GF's and the use of Chi magic. That would require some input from Dr. Odine, which Quistis was slightly uncomfortable with because the man was unethical and creepy, but he was the foremost authority over the subject and there was no one else in the world who could provide the information needed to make it a success.
Seifer was the first person who came to mind when Chi magic was mentioned. It was rare enough for someone to tap into their own inner abilities and even rarer for someone to have such control. Though her memory of Seifer during the war was tainted by his bad decisions and lack of control over himself, she distinctly recalled how easily he'd been able to conjure a fireball out of nothing. That had not been Ultimecia, that had been pure Seifer Almasy, and Quistis had seen him do it countless times over the years, though never quite on that level.
If she could find and recruit him for a position within the new Garden, perhaps he had something to teach besides how to be the world's biggest screw-up. She might not have liked him, but she did have a soft spot for him, along with a grudging respect, even if he didn't deserve it.
Of course, she didn't know where he was and that was a problem. No one had seen or heard from him in months. Not even a whisper of his whereabouts had crossed her desk, and that concerned her. She hated to think he might have met his end somewhere, and if he had, no one knew. Word of Seifer's untimely end would have reached her ears by now if that was the case. Anyone who could take Seifer down would most certainly brag about it and would have earned the right to do so.
There were only two people in the world who had the ability to bring Seifer to his knees. One was Squall. The other was herself. If there was anyone else out there skilled enough to survive a fight with him on their own, Quistis hadn't heard of them, and it was her business to know these things.
No, Seifer was out there, probably holed up somewhere, waiting for the stigma attached to his name and face to blow over. She made a mental note to get Balamb's best information specialists to dig him up as soon as possible.
"It's going to be a challenge," Laguna said. "But one I think you can handle."
Quistis was suddenly overwhelmed. She'd been planning for this for months, but now that it was suddenly here she wasn't sure if she could really pull it off. It was a big responsibility, running a Garden all on her own.
"How many have enrolled?"
"Roughly 200. Some will be transfers from other Gardens, but most will be new to the program."
"We took the liberty of speaking to Xu and Squall about filling the open positions. They'll be arriving some time mid week," Kiros said.
"Who did they recommend?"
"Instructor Aki, Zell Dincht, and Instructor Gabriel, I believe."
Quistis hadn't known Zell was even interested, but it was a pleasant and welcome surprise to hear he was game to transfer. He had just gotten his instructor credentials and hadn't yet used them. Quistis hoped a new role and a new home might be the thing to snap him out of the funk he'd been in for the last few months. Not to mention, it would be nice to have a close friend nearby.
"That works for me," she said. "I can't believe we open the doors in a week."
"If anyone can do it, it's you," Laguna said cheerily. "We wouldn't have chosen you if we didn't believe you could."
Quistis was simultaneously flattered and flustered by the compliment. It was nice to be recognized and she loved a challenge. Running a Garden on her own would certainly be a challenge.
"Want to take a tour of the building?" Laguna asked.
"Of course," Quistis said.
The three rode in the presidential limo to the structure, which looked all but abandoned on the outside. Inside, it was in the final stages of preparation and all that was left was clean up and furnishing. From the moment she stepped inside, she felt something she'd never really felt before.
Accomplishment. Not just on paper but for real.
Sure, she'd accomplished a lot in her nineteen years but this was different somehow. She'd impressed the President of Esthar and his advisors enough that they had built her a Garden of her own. Though she was a rank A SeeD and they youngest ever with a long history of successful missions, fate had dictated that she stand in Squall's shadow. Not that she begrudged him that because in truth, she would not have wanted the burden he carried on his young, inexperienced shoulders.
Since the moment Squall took command,, there had been this sense that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to fill his shoes.
As she walked through the silent hall, dark but multi-faceted granite shimmered in the overhead lights like a path of stars. It was dazzling and she was filled with a giddiness that she rarely allowed herself to feel, even at the best of times.
This place was hers. All hers. Success meant that she would be among a small and elite group of powerful and well known leaders, and while Squall would technically still be her boss in a time of war, this placed her shoulder to shoulder with him in a way she had not been before.
Of course, failure meant the whole world would see her fall on her face.
She squared her shoulders against that thought and looked around, pleased with the tasteful and well planned design. Though this Garden didn't fly, it wouldn't need to. The aforementioned flight school would provide more than enough resources in that department.
As they entered the space that would become her office, she saw that a brass plaque had been affixed to the door.
Headmaster Quistis Trepe.
Boy, she liked the sound of that.
Seifer lifted the rifle to his shoulder as the banging on the door grew louder. He had half a mind to fire through it, but decided against it. He had no idea what was on the other side, and it was fucking cold outside. Though a fire burned in the hearth, any draft would drop the temperature inside to an unbearable level. Blowing a hole in the door would only exacerbate the problem.
"Come inside, fucker," he challenged. "I dare you."
A sound like fingernails on glass echoed through the room and made his hackles raise. It was followed by a low, guttural noise that wasn't quite a growl, not quite a groan and unlike anything he'd ever heard. He lowered the rifle and felt the tension ease out of him as he realized a monster must have wandered onto the porch. He had nothing to worry about unless there was some unknown creature out there that had suddenly mutated and had grown opposable thumbs.
That was, until the doorknob started to rattle. In an instant, he shouldered the rifle again and stepped toward the door even as the knob began to turn back and forth. Fortunately, he'd thought to lock the door even though he was absolutely and totally alone out here. The knob rattled and shook and turned to no avail.
A face suddenly appeared at the window and Seifer reflexively turned toward it as his visitor began to bang his dirty, bloodstained palms against the glass. Mouth open and eyes unseeing, the man outside howled with rage at the sight of Seifer. There was something extremely odd about the man's expression but Seifer couldn't quite figure out what it was. Though his actions were intensely hostile, his eyes were not. If Seifer were to judge by the eyes alone, he would think that there was no one home. This impression was furthered by the pink tinged drool on the man's chin and lips.
When the man screamed-growled-snarled at him and began to bang on the glass, Seifer didn't even think about pulling the trigger, he just did it.
The rifle kicked hard into his shoulder and his ears popped as the blast went off. The creeper at the window went down in a rain of blood and shattered glass and a animal-like howl of pain. Seifer edged forward to make sure the guy wasn't getting back up, rifle still braced against his shoulder.
A rush of cold air swept over him and he shivered. It would have been more prudent to shoot through the door. Now the window was wide open, and all the warmth was sucked outside. Behind him, the fire in the hearth guttered and flared but he didn't feel the heat, only the swelling cold around him.
He peered through the window to see a twitching body beneath the shattered window. The man's eyes were wide open, a little bit of light reflected in them from the pale silver moon above.
Shaken, Seifer stepped back and wiped a hand over his mouth to keep back the sudden tide of nausea at having shot a man at nearly point blank range with a weapon intended for 100 yards or better. He was glad for the darkness so he didn't have to see the mess the bullet had left behind.
Though he was largely unaffected by most everything, gory or otherwise, something about this left him uneasy and unsteady. He told himself the man had it coming for showing up on his porch, for trying to get in, but he couldn't help but think of that oddly blank, empty look in the man's eyes the instant before he pulled the trigger.
From somewhere outside, an inhuman howl rose in the quiet stillness of the night.
He wasn't sure what it was, or what had just happened but he was sure of one thing: he was getting the fuck out.
Notes:
I have NO idea if this is any good. If you like it and want more, please leave a review!
