Alive
Written for the prompt : Dark Angel, Ben or Alec, everything smells so alive outside of Manticore
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It was something that never ceased to be noticeable to him, no matter where he was. Nothing, nowhere he'd been had ever smelt like Manticore. Years had passed, years and miles of terrain, city and countryside, yet nothing had ever dimmed those memories. He still woke at night with dreams, nightmares of those days.
Slop in the canteen, disinfectant in the medical areas, mud, blood, sweat and tears in their quarters. Fear. Terror. They were all stark memories, not dulled in the least by time.
Outside things were different. He remembered those first days, the smell of pine as he'd run through the forest trying to escape, the crisp brittle air with the snow falling around. There was a taint of fear, but it was overlaid with the smell of freedom, a smell that was everything that Manticore wasn't.
The years passed and he was used now to the smells outside. The urban sprawl, humanity packed in close with their mix of food and refuse, scents overlaying one another but missing were the smells of fear and terror. The stark cleanliness was gone as people struggled to survive.
The cities were at times an overwhelming mix of confusing odors and he wondered occasionally if it was the mix of his DNA that made it so overpowering.
Out of the cities, in the countryside, he could smell the plants and wildlife, the fresh air, the space. This was freedom. Real freedom . . . it was what he should want, but what he needed was direction, guidance and out here he couldn't find it. He loathed himself for his inability to take this freedom and embrace it, for the pull back into the dross and garbage of society in his hunt for a leader.
He knew the smell of Manticore . . . it was the smell of death and destruction and no matter where he went, he carried it with him.