From silvermouse - Reindeer

A/N Merry Christmas! I'm sorry, I couldn't come up with something more festive for this prompt, but Moran is my favorite Canon antagonist and it's long past time I do something about him.

From the Game Journal of Sebastian Moran, Col, Ret'd

19 October, 1871

Lapland, Sweden

Two reindeer, male, one 350 lbs, the other 450.

I have only now got to a warm enough place to write down my catch for the day. There is less challenge in hunting these reindeer than I was led to believe by my guides; they travel in herds so large that a hunter need only pick off which animal he chooses. Lying in wait to find the right animal among many is a very different experience than stalking and bagging a single specimen, one altogether too easy for a hunter such as myself, used as I am to tigers, lions and elephants. There is, however, a certain logistical challenge in reindeer hunting. The cold weather makes the necessary waiting nearly interminable, and the constant layer of snow makes traveling with one's catch difficult.

While I am glad to have bagged such fine specimens (the antlers alone are a worthy trophy and will add greatly to my décor in my London rooms), and to add the experience of hunting in a cold, snow-filled environment to my considerable knowledge of the subject, I find myself more restless than usual. Ordinarily, there is never any calmer time than that after a successful hunt; the knowledge that I alone have proved myself master over nature is a powerful feeling. Today, I am not content. Perhaps the hunt was too easy; I am not used to bagging my kill so soon after starting out. I was barely gone a day. My guides were astonished when I told them of week-long forays into the jungles of India, stalking a single tiger until exactly the right moment. That required true patience and skill, and once complete, any hunter would know himself a true predator. Compared to that, hunting reindeer is child's play, no more difficult than the first deer I brought down as a child.

Perhaps I should move on, in search of better prey. But as I look through the pages of this journal, I find examples of nearly every creature known to man, each larger and more dangerous than the last. I find not only the records of my prize tigers, from my years in India, but my childish records of my first hunts as well, cut from their own books and pasted in here, so my record is complete. And I find the records of the animals I have hunted since my expulsion from India – elephants and lions in Africa, snow leopards in Nepal, bears, elk and bison in the prairies of Canada, even a jaguar from the rainforest in South America. And now, my two reindeer. For the first time in my career, I do not know where to go next. I cannot think of another creature I have not already set myself against and been victorious.

I would be content to return to London and retire; I have set myself up as a gentleman, and none there know of my history in India. It would be a simple matter, and then I could write the books I have always wished to: records of my hunting journeys and textbooks for those who would follow in my footsteps. And yet, I know myself, and I know I would not remain content for long. My blood would burn for the chase again within a matter of months, and this time I would have no outlet for it. I am no retired gentleman, to go contentedly off into the dusk while others trace my footsteps and break my records. I am a hunter, and I know I am the greatest the Empire has yet produced. Am I to do nothing from now on but remember better days?

Enough. This journal is a record of my hunts, nothing more. I will return to London, and perhaps several months of the boredom and routine of the city will compel me to find some new hunt to take on.

2 January, 1872

This record of my hunts has remained dormant these last few months since I returned to England, but I must sort out my thoughts and have nowhere else to do so. I see in my last entry I speculated that being in London would cause me to take on a new hunt out of boredom, and I was correct, in a way. I have been approached.

The man who approached me is unlike anyone I have met before. He is self-contained, and intelligent. I will not write his name here, lest this journal fall into someone's hands, however unlikely that is. I shall call him only the Professor. He has a proposition for me. I do not know how he found me; he says it is because of my fame as a hunter and my unique background in India. How he knew of that, I don't know. I very nearly took his head off when he mentioned it; afraid he was going to expose my story to the public, but he assured me that he has a use for a man like me.

Here I shall write his words as best I remember them, for nothing else can convey the extraordinary quality of The Professor's intelligence and perception. "I don't doubt, Colonel, that you find it difficult to live as you do among these people," the Professor said, eyeing the antlers above my mantle with some interest.

I assented; I was finding my daily routine at the card club stifling. If only those blowhards knew what I thought of them! I would no longer be known as the mild-mannered former soldier they saw! The Professor smiled tightly and went on, "I find myself in need of a strong man, one with a ready gun and no qualms about using it. Are you that man? I make no false promises; the world of crime is fickle and it will be difficult going but the rewards will be great once we are there, and I can promise a hunt unlike any you have ever had."

In an instant I realized what the Professor meant; my skill set was uniquely suited to the work he was describing, and I had already been somewhat involved in crime in India. I cared not about the rewards; I had money enough from my father, but the challenge, the hunt, this time against my fellow man…that I could not pass up and I smiled at the Professor.

"I believe I am exactly the man you're looking for," I said, shaking his hand, excitement coursing through me for the first time in months. What a stroke of luck, that the Professor and I should be brought together like this. I am sure that we will soon be the heads of such an empire to rival the worst opium smugglers from China.

Now, I must clean my rifle, unused these past few months, and see how it will fare against my new prey.