Guilt: Hookwolf

I looked across the pit and stands from my VIP box. One of our newer recruits worked to clean the blood up from the last series of dog fights. Last night's fights had been particularly entertaining. It was always interesting to see a new challenger dethrone the previous champion.

Leaving my office I took the chance to inspect the cages. We had another fight coming up in week and it's important to make sure there are enough mutts ready and able to fight. After all the crowds had to be kept happy, and where was the fun in things if they had to go home early from a lack of fights?

As I stalked past the cages several of the dogs cringed back, while others snarled or barked. Only one dog, a large Rottweiler, eyed me with caution without backing down. The tag on the cage identified the dog as Scorn.

I'd have to bet on Scorn during the upcoming fights, despite the lack of scars indicating his freshness he had a steely intelligence behind his eyes that would serve him well in the pit. Flashing the dog a feral grin I moved on.

"Ted, don't get those pits too clean, a bit of old blood always puts the mutts on edge." I barked out at my overly enthusiastic new recruit.

"Sorry boss, I'll"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a scream; long and piercing, sharp, a girl, probably young. Hearing the scream caused a shiver to go down my back, a sense of trepidation settled over me.

Memories flood my mind.

Death. That is the only way to describe what I experience, maybe a hundred or more deaths; humans, dogs, that one horse the idiot police officer rode. I feel my flesh ripped apart by blades, my own blades. I feel teeth and claws sink through flesh and fur that are not my own but are simultaneously my own. Pain, so much pain, and now seeing it from the other perspective all of it seems so pointless.

I snap back to my own body. This can't be right. I live for the rush of a fight, for the honor of combat! These things are who I am, I cannot be wrong, they CANNOT BE WRONG! I can feel my arms shaking but am powerless to stop it. I live for combat and honor those things cannot be meaningless!

"B-boss? What was that? I, I don't, I can't…" Ted crumples to the floor and vomits all over my fighting pit. This sniveling wretch thinks he is part of the Empire? Something inside me snaps. It's too much all of this it's too much, I won't accept this, whatever has caused these thoughts this, this remorse I won't accept it I… I will fight this! I will FIGHT! Lashing out I shift one arm into series of blades, knives and hooks with a sweep of my arm pulps Ted above the shoulders.

Another flash as I experience Ted's death, his fear his panic.

NO! NO! I will not accept this! I am a warrior! I have honor! Those things are not meaningless! I will prove it! I will justify myself! I will put an end to whatever this garbage that clouds my mind is! With an incoherent scream of rage I bolt for the door. A quick application of my power combined with a kick and what was once a thick oak door becomes so many wood chips.

I will not allow this to control me! I cannot be wrong! I will find the cape responsible for this, and I will end them! With these thoughts prominent in my mind I launch myself into the city. I shift my arms and face into to blades but otherwise leave my body unchanged as I march down the street into the city.

"Come out you coward! Come out and face me! Stop toying with my mind and face your death with honor!"