Alright, the reception to this story has been surprisingly good, so I'm expanding it. It will be more like a series of oneshots, not exactly like an outlined story. I won't be updating regularly, nor do I have it planned out. Just check back every once and a while. I'll post things when I get ideas, which I have one more chapter in the process now.

"Alright, that's it, this is getting insane!" Casca cried out, dodging a body that had actually bounced off an overhang.

Arturo stepped over to inspect the body, "Yeah, this has gotten a little out of hand." He tapped his chin, "What if someone is pushing them, and really is aiming for us?"

Casca gave him a look, "That really is insane. I think we just need better archers."

"What if we transferred? Not far, I mean, just outside the city. This could be good opportunity to get to the Coliseum."The quieter officer mentioned. There were archers posted there, but most of the time patrols were on the ground, and they wouldn't have to worry so much. From what they had heard, there hadn't been the same problems there, for obvious reasons. Well, the reasons were more obvious if you knew the whole story, but at least they thought the archers were posted farther from ledges.

"That would require talking to…him." He said, and began stripping the corpse of weapons so it could be transported. They could've sworn they heard someone curse nearby, but dismissed it.

"Who knows, it could be worth it…" Arturo kneeled down and inspected the archers broken neck.

"With our luck, we'd end up posted on a building too."

"But we're not archers…"

Casca stood back up, slinging the archers crossbow over his back. "Come on."

They started to walk away, and Arturo didn't have to ask where they were going.

Despite the extreme fear of their superiors, they (meaning Casca) had made the decision to go and ask for a transfer. First though, they picked up selected parts of previous reports as evidence so they wouldn't seem picky.

"Casca, shouldn't we get the papers from the time that crossbow fell and dislocated my shoulder?"

"Nah, I think this report will work better. You know the one where the guy fell and broke that merchant's stand? That cost the captain a lot of money, and we just happened to be the ones to see it."

The captain, thankfully, was extremely tired that day. He started to go through procedure just as he would any other time, but he was just going through the motions.

"So, you want a transfer?" The man said, leaning his head on his hand.

"Yes, that's right." Casca responded, feeling very good about this meeting.

"Would you care to explain why?" Translation: "Are you seriously wasting my time?"

Without another word, Arturo and Casca dropped the record books on his desk. The captain, who is a very smart man, took one look at the stacks with wide eyes.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Can we go to the Coliseum?" The captain got a strange smile on his face at their request, but they waved it off.

"That sounds reasonable. We were just looking for some new blood to send that way." He said, shifting a few papers around. "Pack your things; you'll move tomorrow."

Well, that worked.

Things went well at the new barracks, and for several days they went about their patrols without a problem. Then one day they were required to stay late into the night for a party on one of the upper levels.

Ignoring the sounds of drinking and music above them, they walked around one of the inner walls, keeping an eye out for anyone wandering alone, or anyone who wasn't wandering and probably wasn't alone.

"I really like this new routine." Casca said, idly stopping to peek around the wall.

Arturo nodded, "Me too." He peered around, squinting in the dark, and noticed a strange contraption on the ground. "What is that?"

Casca joined him, "I've never seen it before. Of course, we don't normally follow this route…"

The other soldier added, "I wonder what it is…"

Then, faintly in the background, they heard the howling of wolves. It was distinct enough to keep an eye out, if one was far from other people and/or in the middle of the wilderness. They paid it no mind.

Then it came from behind them. They whirled around, seeing several strange creatures standing there, growling. Arturo held his spear out, and Casca drew a short sword in haste. The creatures looked similar to wolves, and Casca, always the poet, dredged up a word from some part of his brain to describe them.

"Werewolves!" He cried, and Arturo gave him an odd look, cocking his head to one side in confusion.

The "werewolves" continued to advance, drawing daggers that looked crude, yet deadly. They growled, backing the two up against the wall. Casca, seeing how they stalked their prey like a wolf as well, drew his own dagger from his belt and threw it into the neck of one of the attackers.

Please keep in mind that while the Borgia are quite good with weapons, they have never been accused of intelligence.

Casca's act provoked the other wolf-people into attacking. Arturo stabbed blindly, unable to hit any vitals. His friend's sword also found skin, but not necessarily inner organs.

Then they left. Apparently being bloody and injured was not an appealing state, so after not even a minute of fighting, the three (though they were sure there were closer to six) wolf-men disappeared, only a dull clanging noise signifying their escape.

After a moment of panting, the two armored men took off toward their horses, heading straight for the barracks and a doctor. Arturo suffered a cut on the collarbone, but otherwise neither man was seriously injured.

Casca began writing his report while his friend was being bandaged, but was unable, with all his poetic nature, to do so effectively.

We were inspecting a metal contraption built into one of the walls of the Coliseum, when we were attacked by men wearing wolf pelts…

There was a metal thing…

So it turns out werewolves really exist…

Captain, my partner, Arturo Rossi, and I, Casca Marino, are requesting to be transferred…