Chapter 2: Gettin' used to things
When Mitchell opened his eyes, the day had yet to start. Darkness surrounded him, and he had to blink away the bleariness in his eyes to adjust. Although he hated waking up so early, his internal clock had long been set in place by the habits of his rather military family.
As the American pulled himself into a steady sitting position, he heard footsteps and muffled shuffling. He looked around drowsily to see men already up and about and in various states of dress, some heading for the armory. Quickly, the events of the previous day became apparent to him, as well as the true reality of his situation.
'Well shit, there goes the chance of all that being a bizarre fever dream.'
Mitchell recalled what that rather amiable guardsman, Mikhail, had said about tardiness. He stood and hurriedly made to prepare for the coming day, but paused when a realization came to him: considering that he had to wear armor as a guardsman, he needed to find a suitable place to hide his revolver and ammo pouch, lest they be discovered on his person. He really wanted to keep his gun a secret if at all possible.
He looked back at the few guardsmen in the room, only to find that they had all already left. Mitchell quickly retrieved his tactical hunting knife and flipped his mattress. He cut a sizable hole and fit his gun and ammo pouch in it, then returned the mattress to its former position. With that out of the way, he considered his state of dress, then headed off for the armory.
Once he arrived, the American managed to equip himself without issue. Now fully presentable, he retrieved his crossbow and sheathed his knife, exiting the building out into the courtyard, where the rest of his soon to be comrades awaited command.
Without a word, he lined up with the ranks, waiting for whatever morning drill there was to begin. The American noticed the guards wielded an assortment of weapons, from axes to short spears, from broadswords and bows and arrows—they had everything. He and his crossbow stuck out like a sore thumb. He wasn't the only one, however. To Mitchell's slight surprise, Arriet waited at the front of the ranks, facing them.
The guardsmen didn't have to wait long before Captain Strenger appeared on the lawn and joined the girl, facing the formation before speaking.
"Alright, it looks like everyone is here. Good." Iosef nodded, his eyes sweeping over the ranks. "I'll get straight to the point. Our newest addition to our ranks shared some worrying news yesterday." He gestured towards Mitchell, who suppressed a flinch when heads turned towards him. Iosef continued without pause.
"A Dark Mage and a Liliraune were sighted not far from our town. I don't think I need to explain what this means," he said grimly. The gathered guards' countenance grew equally grim. "This, coupled with growing rumors of the Fourth Born moving in on Lescatie, means we must be vigilant and alert more than ever. Be on your guard and look out for any potential infiltrators. We don't want what happened at the city of Caledon to happen here, now do we?"
Mitchell briefly wondered what the story entailed, but dared not ask at the moment. Any other thoughts that he might have had were put on hold when the morning PT began. Surprisingly, it wasn't anything too difficult—it was so… mundane that the details were lost on him. The American hypothesized that such low-energy training was to preserve strength for any potential conflicts during the day, but he could be wrong.
When PT was over, Iosef dismissed them. "Alright, you all know your duties. Report to your posts." He turned his gaze to Mitchell and Mikhail as the formation left. "Ambrose, Marlowe, you two stay. I have your assignments."
Mitchell and Mikhail stood at attention as Iosef approached. Mitchell noticed that Arriet had already left. He guessed that she must've had her own, more important assignment. Iosef cleared his throat. "Alright, since you're just getting into your duties, Marlowe, I'm going to have you and Ambrose patrolling the town interior. You'll be switching out with Morden and Klaus at midday to do what you need to for one hour before switching with Jarrod and Donnel at the front gate until dusk. These will be your new posts for the foreseeable future."
Both men nodded. Iosef gave his own nod and dismissed them without fanfare. "Get to it then."
"Sir!"
"Yessir."
With their task realized, Mitchell and his companion left without another word. They walked a considerable distance before the American spoke, looking around. "Where do we start?"
"Our route will start from here, then the library, then the tailor shop, then town square, and repeat. Another patrol will cover the rest," Mikhail told him. The American nodded, and they got started.
Against his expectations, Mitchell found himself sufficiently fascinated by the town and it's denizens. Toulouse, Mitchell learned, was a frontier town in the Order Kingdom of Lescatie where wanderers went to start lives anew. From what he'd heard from Mikhail, the townsfolk had a mostly neutral outlook on the Order, ranging from indifference to distaste. He figured this "Order" was not too great a place if it's own citizens felt this way about it.
The patrol went on without strife until Mitchell caught sight of what he assumed to be one of those "mamanos" he'd heard about. They were making their rounds on the town square when Mitchell saw her and halted, blinking in incredulity to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"Korone…?" The American gawked incredulously. His eyes were, in fact, not deceiving him. An actual dog-girl was walking arm in arm with a young man as the couple browsed the shop stalls. Seeing a monster girl up close for the first time was surprising, yes, but what truly baffled the American was that the dog-girl looked just like Korone Inugami. Maybe his priorities were a bit skewed…
Mikhail misinterpreted the American's shock. He shook his head reassuringly. "Don't worry about her. She's harmless. Kobolds are generally accepted since they are one of the more tame mamano. Besides, it looks like Tomas has her well in hand." He gestured at the couple as the named Tomas hugged the Korone-lookalike from behind, stopping her from… glomping a store owner in objective despair?
Her mouth moved as tears streamed from her eyes, but at this distance, Mitchell could only catch a few words.
"Oh!" she moaned, "I'm die." She looked at the store owner with teary eyes. "Thank you. Forever."
Mitchell blinked. "Uh, yeah," he said, staring at the girl with a frown. Seeing this only drove the nail further that he was far from home, and likely not to return if he was being brutally honest with himself. He had absolutely no clue how to get back, and the only one who might've known is dead now.
The duo continued on their patrol after that, with Mitchell distracted by his thoughts, Mikhail actively watching for conspicuous activity The rest of their morning patrol was largely uneventful, aside from being called over to settle a dispute between two drunks. Now that was an amusing little event.
As they passed the tailor's shop for the second time, Mitchell wondered what Arriet was doing when he and Mikhail were approached by two guards—Morden and Klaus—who took over the posts. Now that they were given an hour's rest, Mikhail immediately left to go visit the food stalls. Since the American had no money, he decided to make good use of his time and headed to the library to learn more about this new land.
Walking with purpose, Mitchell made his way to the library, which wasn't too far, thankfully. He ignored the looks he was getting in favor of making good time in order to cram as much knowledge into his head as possible.
After only a couple of minutes, the library came into view, and Mitchell picked up the pace. The library was a two-story building with a porch and awning—simple, but convenient. Without delay, Mitchell stepped inside, looking around with curiosity. The walls of the first floor were lined with bookshelves, chairs and couches sitting throughout the room. There was a counter at the back of the room with what Mitchell guessed was the employee's room behind it. To the right of the counter was the only staircase.
Sitting behind the counter was a pretty woman who appeared to be in her mid-to-late twenties. She had light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail by a white ribbon and calm, gentle green eyes. She wore a blue coat with a white sash over it with a knee-length white skirt over white pants. To finish the outfit, she wore knee-high laced boots.
She looked up as Mitchell entered. Her eyes widened in recognition, and to the American's minute surprise, she smiled. "Ah, hello. You must be the new arrival that the alderman mentioned. Welcome to Toulouse. I hope it's to your liking?"
She had such a warm, motherly aura that Mitchell almost instinctively relaxed. He smiled back. "Yeah, I like it so far. You havin' a good day yourself, miss?"
Her smile got just a bit wider. "Yes, I am. Thank you for asking." She noticed his guard armor. "I see you are part of the garrison. Are you taking your hour's rest now? Shouldn't you be off having lunch if that's the case?"
Mitchell shrugged. "I would but I've got no money right now. I figured I'd swing by here and see what I could learn."
The woman frowned sympathetically. "Oh, well that's no good. Hmm. Well, if that's the case, then what can I do for you?"
"I'd like to read about world history, please. Oh, and if you have anythin' like a world map or somethin' that'd be just super." Mitchell asked politely.
She got up and pointed at one of the shelves to the far right of the room. "You should find what you are looking for in the second shelf from the wall, on the third row. I need to step away from the counter for a bit. I'll be right back."
"Aight, thank ya, miss," Mitchell replied as she stepped into the backroom. He headed over to the aforementioned shelf and was very quickly reminded of something very obvious. He couldn't read the language here. Once again, he felt like an idiot.
The American grew frustrated as he brainstormed a way to solve this problem. The woman returned from the backroom a few minutes later to see Mitchell pacing, deep in thought.
"Is something the matter? You look quite anxious," she asked, brows knit.
Mitchell frowned apologetically. "Yeah, actually. I'm really embarrassed to say this after coming all the way here but I can't understand the written language. It seems I wasted your time. Sorry, miss."
"Nonsense! You haven't wasted a single moment of my time. If you do not understand the language, I can tutor you whenever I'm not busy, if you want," she offered. She set down a plate of food that included a slice of honest-to-goodness apple pie.
"Uh, well, if you're offerin', it'd be rude to turn ya down," the American conceded, unwilling to let such a prime opportunity slip through his fingers. He gave the plate an envious look, though. "You gettin' ready for lunch?"
"Not at all. This is for you."
Mitchell stared in disbelief. How could one be so kind? They'd just met not minutes ago, and this angel of a woman not only had the capacity to offer him food, she was also willing to help him in his time of need. What did he do to deserve this level of generosity? "...You are a gift to this world, miss," he said with complete sincerity.
The woman gave a light, feminine laugh, playfully batting his arm. "Oh, stop it. I couldn't just let you starve, now could I?"
The American shook his head, incredulous. "Still, you're far too kind. Thank you very much for the food, miss. And I can't believe it took me this long to ask, but what's your name? I'm Mitchell Marlowe."
"Ah, my name is Melissa Springfield," she replied, smiling sheepishly. "Librarian and aspiring baker, at your service. Please tell me what you think of the pie."
Mitchell smirked as he sat down. He was looking forward to some home-cooked apple pie again, that's for sure. "Yes, ma'am."
Needless to say, it was amazing. Mitchell made sure to tell her that. "If ya opened up a bakery in town right now, I'm pretty sure you'd sell out."
"Oh my, that's quite the compliment. After hearing that, I just might," Melissa said playfully. Her eyes widened a bit as she remembered her offer. "Ah, and before I forget, I should be able to teach you how to read and write on most days. Afternoons preferably. I haven't been getting as many visitors lately, so I should be free to teach you unless something comes up."
"Aight, I'll see if I can make time to come by," Mitchell promised. "I've already promised Arriet that I'm gonna be training with her when I'm not workin'. I'll run this by her to see if we can't make a schedule."
Melissa nodded in understanding. "Of course. It's good that you are putting your promise with her first. That's very considerate of you."
"It's just how mom raised me," the American said, shrugging. She and his dad both would've beat his ass if he didn't uphold his promises.
Melissa's eyes softened. "Then she raised you well." She glanced out the window and saw the sun had dipped slightly. "Oh, is your hour of rest nearly done? I don't want you getting in trouble on my account."
Mitchell made a big show of acting surprised as he turned around, subtly looking at the time on his phone. He had ten minutes to report at the front gate. "Oh sh—crap. I gotta get gone. Sorry to just, y'know, dine and dash on ya."
"Oh, nonsense. I had a lovely time meeting you," the librarian replied with a smile. "All visitors are welcome."
"See ya later then, Melissa. Nice meetin' you too," Mitchell called back with a wave. He walked out the door in a hurry.
The American hurried down the street, just short of sprinting. If there was a chance his pay was dependent on how effective he was at his job, he could not afford to be late. That being said, he could afford to have a little fun on the way, especially when he saw Arriet step out of the building adjacent to him.
"Hi Arriet," he said, waving as he passed. "Bye Arriet." He called as he continued. Arriet blinked, then shook her head with an amused smile as she continued on with her business.
Aside from that bout of goofiness, Mitchell arrived at the front gate with little fanfare. Mikhail was already waiting on him. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering if you'd show."
"Well guess what. Here I am. Being on time," Mitchell replied sassily. " I know y'all have a bettin' pool on me. You better have put money on me gettin' here on time, Mikhail."
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Thank you for that," Mikhail confirmed, smirking. "I'm two silvers richer thanks to these fools." He gestured to the two guards near them, Jarrod and Donnel.
Mitchell looked over in mock incredulity. "Damn y'all, you put a whole silver on me bein' late? What did I ever do to you?"
"You're the rookie. It's a standing tradition to haze the rookies," Donnel replied with a shrug. "I just wanted to put down twenty coppers. Betting the silver was this idiot's—", he gestured to Jarrod "—fault. I'm not following his suggestions again."
"Whatever," Jarrod growled, irritated. "It's your turn to stand up there and be bored." Without another word, he stormed off with Donnel in tow, who looked exasperated.
"What stick is up his ass?" Mitchell asked flatly, brow raised as he stared after the departing duo.
Mikhail waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't mind Jarrod. That's just how he is."
"Of course. There's always that one guy you have to work with. I understand," the American replied, rolling his eyes. The two guardsmen ascended to the top of the gate.
Following their new assignment was just as Jarrod described—boring. Mitchell quickly found himself introducing the timeless game of I spy to his fellow guardsman, as well as learning about one another to pass the time. Despite their best efforts, their boredom persisted throughout the rest of the day.
Eventually, the time finally came for their shift to end, and they were relieved by the night guardsmen. They journeyed back to the barracks in companionable silence as the sun dipped towards the horizon. When they arrived at their destination, they were surprised to see Arriet already waiting at the door. She was quick to notice them and stepped forward with an excited air.
"Good evening, you two," she greeted with a smile. "May I speak with Mitchell? I would like his opinion on something."
Mikhail gave Mitchell a curious look, to which the American shrugged. Mikhail turned back and answered. "Of course, Lady Arriet. I'll leave you both to your business." He strode inside.
"So, you have somethin' you wanna ask?" Mitchell inquired, curious. "Fire away."
To Mitchell's surprise, and slight trepidation, Arriet had a slight devious grin on her face. "Well, today I was wondering how best to begin your training. I discarded numerous ideas until it occurred to me—why not start your training today? If you're up to it, of course."
Hearing about strenuous exercises after a work day would fill anyone with exhaustion, but considering who was asking, it rejuvenated Mitchell instead.
"Arriet, after the dull, monotonous day I just had, nothin' would make me happier," the American smiled. Enthusiasm flooded his veins at the thought of having such a wonderful girl teach him.
Arriet's smile was brighter than the sunset. "Excellent! I'll admit I've never taught anyone before and I'm quite excited. Shall we get started?"
"Hell yeah. Lead on."
The girl happily guided the American to the training area where an array of lamps were spread out over the area in the event that anyone crazy enough to entertain the thought of training at night would find themselves here.
As they retrieved practice swords from a nearby stand, Mitchell remembered Melissa's offer. "Hey, uh, before we start, can I run somethin' by you real quick? I want your opinion on something," he asked.
The girl tilted her head slightly. "What is it?"
"Well, I swung by the library today and got an offer to be tutored to read and write by Miss Springfield," the American informed. "I wanted to run this by ya and see if we couldn't make a schedule for both of y'all."
"It's a good idea," Arriet said almost immediately. She had a thoughtful look on her pretty face. "You stand to gain much from learning our language. If you want, I could talk to her about it. Maybe I can even help you."
Mitchell smiled at first, then frowned thoughtfully. He would absolutely love to have Arriet help him out, but… "Are you sure? I mean, don't get me wrong Arriet, I'd love to have ya help out, but not if it's gettin' in the way of your own time."
Arriet's eyes dimmed slightly. "You're sweet to ask, but don't worry. I don't usually have much to do in my own time. Besides, you need the help and I visit the library a great deal anyway, so why not."
"Aight then. Looks like it's settled," the American stated matter-of-factly, shrugging. He gave her a devil-may-care smirk. "Wanna get to it?"
Arriet met his smirk with her own
They got into their session, and Arriet immediately began correcting his form. When they got into the actual sparring, Mitchell realized the hard and physical way how utterly outclassed he was compared to this girl. He felt like a toddler swinging a styrofoam sword around in comparison to how elegant and efficient she was, but even after just a couple of hours, he genuinely felt like he was improving. He acquired a collection of new bruises, but y'know what? He would gladly do it again, even when he knew that he was going to be feeling it tomorrow. That was fine. It was all worth it to him. He remembered her smile throughout the entire training session.
'Yeah,' Mitchell smiled in thought as he settled into bed with a wince. 'Definitely worth it.'
When Mitchell awoke, he already found himself following a routine. Get up, get armored, and go to the morning drill. Some things never change apparently. However, unlike the day before, Iosef had a special assignment for him this time.
"The alderman wants you to scout the surrounding region today. He wants a full sweep around the town," the Captain said. He looked frustrated about something.
"Yessir. Did something happen?" Mitchell inquired. Something must've happened for them to be sending him out on his third day here.
Iosef frowned deeply. "We received word from a merchant last night that the Rondell Township was taken over by the Fourth Born's forces yesterday. Apparently, it was conquered within two hours. He says he only escaped because the monsters were so preoccupied with ravaging the town. We need you on reconnaissance for any potential new mamano moving into our territory. Stay on your guard out there, Marlowe."
The American tensed. They took an entire town in just two hours? And he had to go out into the wilderness on his lonesome to search for these things?
'Great,' Mitchell groused internally as he nodded.
"Go do what you need to prepare. You have half an hour to get started." Iosef ordered before marching away.
Unwilling to waste any time, Mitchell went straight back into the barracks to retrieve his gear—his trump card in this strange world. His fingers ran deftly across the grip of his revolver. He decided he would hide the gun until he was out of town. He took off his armor and quickly threw on his hunting clothes.
Once he was equipped with everything, he went into the mess hall and ate his fill. He didn't need to feel hungry and paranoid while out on his own. After clearing his plate, the American got started. He was on the clock, after all.
He strode down the street to the front gate with urgent steps. He was actually coming to like this quaint town a bit. While it wasn't his home, he didn't want the people here to be killed. If going out there would help these people, then he'd do it.
"Is something wrong? You're in quite the hurry."
The American paused and turned to see Arriet standing nearby, giving him a curious look. "The captain told me the town of Rondell was taken over by those mamano people yesterday. He's ordered me to recon the surrounding region around the town. I'm headin' out right now."
The girl's eyes widened in shock. "Rondell has fallen? That's...worrying. That will surely provoke a response from the Order." She idly tapped the pommel of her blade, a concerned frown on her face. "Be careful out there, Mitchell."
"Oh, believe me, I will," Mitchell assured, nodding. He turned to depart, looking back at her. "You take care of yourself, aight? I'll be back soon enough."
"Of course. I'll hold you to that. I still have much to teach you, after all." She made an attempt to smile, but it was marred with concern.
Mitchell didn't want to leave her so worried so he decided to inject a bit of humor into his departure. "Yeah, ya really do," he gave his devil-may-care smirk. "Can't wait to get back into it. Later on, Arriet."
"Yes. Until next time." She waved, a look of resolve on her face
Mitchell gave his two finger wave as he walked away, determined as ever to get this over with.
He arrived at the gate without delay and spoke to the guards posted beside the door. "I got orders from the captain to go scoutin'. Lemme through."
The guards both nodded and pushed open the gate. The American walked through, making his way to the stone bridge. As he crossed, he considered where he would conduct his recon. He ultimately decided he would trek out a couple of miles and sweep around the town in a clockwise manner.
When Mitchell entered the treeline, he pulled out his holstered revolver and fastened it to his right thigh for a quicker draw. After that was secure, he applied his hunting smell remover. Once finished, he took a deep breath. Time to get to work.
For the next few hours, the American carefully marked his progress, searching everywhere he thought a mamano could potentially be. He used every elevated overlook or hilltop to scan his distant surroundings. He left no stone unturned. So far, he found nothing—but he knew that was easily subject to change.
He had already covered more than half of the region around the town without problems. He hoped his monotonous task stayed that way. The American paused when he realized that he had just potentially jinxed himself. No sooner than when he paused, his ears caught the sound of something he knew he wouldn't have otherwise heard: leaves slowly crunching. He tensed where he stood, subtly shifting his body.
When the American heard a twig snap, he threw himself to the side—and just in time too if the rush of air that passed through the spot in which he previously stood was any indication. He recovered from a hasty combat roll, ready for a fight, but what he saw made his heart drop.
A woman rose from the ground and turned to face him.
Mitchell nearly gaped.
Her body was ludicrously lewd. She was slightly shorter than Mitchell, boasting a wealth of perfectly proportioned curves. A shower of black hair fell down to her thighs, and beautifully mesmerizing golden eyes stared teasingly, hungrily into Mitchell's own. A ripped, red corset crop top guarded little of her shapely breasts, secured only by a silver brooch and black cords, and showing a healthy swell of underboob. Her smooth, exposed midriff ended at a pair of ripped black short shorts secured by a black and silver belt that protected what little modesty she had, clinging to her curvaceous hips and defining a taut rear. Ripped black leggings hugged long, pale, athletic legs, and... was that a black choker collar around her neck?
Despite how unbelievably sexy this woman was, Mitchell's attention was captured by the fact that she had black fur covering her arms up to her elbows and her knees. Her hands and feet looked like a bizarre mixture of human and dog appendages. When her piercing golden eyes roamed the American, his wariness shot up to an all-time high.
"Why did you dodge?" she asked, irritated. She had a smooth, mature voice, if not slightly rough. "We'd be having fun right now if you hadn't."
Mitchell felt the need to throw in some sass. "I hope you're not serious with that question," he replied, training his crossbow on her with steady hands. He kept an ear out for his surroundings, just in case she wasn't alone.
The woman frowned. "I am." She looked at his crossbow with a mix of caution and irritation. "Can you put that away? I'm not going to hurt you. The opposite, in fact." She gave him a seductive, half-lidded stare.
"Oh, yeah, sure. I'll get right on that," The American retorted, unwavering. "Who are you? How did you find me? Are you with that Fourth Born person?"
The woman shifted to her left, and a disdainful look crossed her pretty face. "Yes, but not by choice," she emphasized. "I was turned into one of her wolves—", she growled, revealing elongated canines, "—and my little brother turned into an Incubus when she took over our town. Now he spends his days plowing some Baphomet that looks half his damn age and I have to follow orders like a good dog. I despise her for what she did to us, but I cannot go against my Alpha." She shifted to her left again, and Mitchell shifted along with her, keeping his crossbow trained on her. He knew her game.
Despite the tension, he felt a hint of sympathy for the woman in front of him. Not enough to let his guard down, but enough to sympathize with her situation. Not only that, but he had no clue what the hell an Incubus was. And did she just say her little brother was fucking a monster? It was a lot to process all at once. There was the chance that she was lying, but the way she was venting at him made him think that wasn't the case. That level of emotion couldn't be faked easily.
"I'm sorry that happened to you, for what it's worth," Mitchell said, frowning slightly. "You haven't answered my other questions though. You can stop tryin' to flank me, by the way. You ain't slick."
The wolf woman grunted as she halted her attempt to circle him. She gave him a look, hand-paws on her lovely hips. "My name is Velvet Crowe. I found you after following a strange scent I've never smelled before. I figured that it wasn't something you'd normally find in a forest and lo and behold—a lone hunter wandering the wilderness." She smirked. "I just couldn't help myself. You smell really good by the way. I wonder how you taste~." She leaned forward, sniffing the air slightly whilst simultaneously giving him a view right down her cleavage.
Mitchell's mind swirled at this information. She had smelled him from a great distance, apparently. Whether she smelled him or his hunting smell remover was up in the air, but either way, she was at least somewhat reliant on her sense of smell for… hunting. With this in mind, the American knew exactly what to use if this conversation went south.
"Well, that's good to know," the American said matter-of-factly. "I'll keep that in mind next time I do something like this. Thank you for lettin' me know. Now here's the thing, I'm willin' to go our separate ways if you are. I really don't want your little brother to grow up without his sister but I will defend myself if you push this." He finished by giving her a serious look.
Velvet stared at him strangely. "...What's your name?"
"Mitchell Marlowe," Came the curt response.
"Did you mean what you said just now?" she asked with a certain intensity in her bright, golden eyes. He could only guess what she was thinking.
"Yeah. Now walk away, miss. I won't ask again," Mitchell said tensely. He was getting worried about the way she was looking at him.
There was a long pause as the wolf woman internally deliberated on something. Mitchell hoped she would take the offer. She finally seemed to come to a decision and looked up at him. Upon seeing the same intensity and resolve in her eyes, the American's heart sank.
"...No, I don't think I will," she said, staring him down. Her arms suddenly twitched, and Mitchell instinctively pulled the trigger—only to realize it was a feint. The arrow sailed through a veil of raven hair, hitting nothing but air. It missed her by centimeters, burying itself into a tree with a loud thock.
Mitchell immediately dropped his crossbow when she lunged at him, crossing a distance of several meters in an instant. He gripped his trump card tightly as Velvet collided with him, knocking them to the ground. She straddled him and immediately began rocking her tight rear back and forth across his crotch, a smirk of triumph on her face. Mitchell refused to let it go any further. Wasting no time, he whipped up his pepper spray and let loose right into her face.
The woman howled an agonized yell, furiously rubbing at her visage as Mitchell pulled his legs out from under her and viciously slammed the soles of his boots into her sternum.
Air whooshed out of her lungs as she was sent flying back a few meters across the clearing, tumbling to the ground. Mitchell was surprised at his seemingly herculean strength, but chalked it up to his surging adrenaline. He shot to his feet, picking up his crossbow before hauling ass away from the area. He'd lose her before heading back to Toulouse. He didn't want to lead her back there considering that she worked for that Fourth Born chick.
The American heard Velvet yelling that she knew his scent, that she would remember this and fuck the daylights out of him, but he didn't give a single fuck. He didn't stop running until he was absolutely certain he gave her the slip. Tired, tense, and shaken by his first brush with a hostile monster, Mitchell headed straight for town, eager for the day to be over.
Mitchell's mind was all over the place as he walked. Before he even knew it, he was standing at the treeline surrounding the town. He unfastened his gun holster and slipped it into his pants. With that procedure finished, he made his approach to the town. The guards on duty let him through without issue and he wordlessly marched to the barracks to give his report to Captain Strenger.
Mitchell made it to the barracks without delay, much to his disappointment. Seeing Arriet or even Melissa would be a sight for sore eyes right now.
Marching straight to Iosef's office, he knocked twice. The captain answered instantly. "Yes?"
"I've got news, sir," Mitchell said, straight to the point. He just wanted to get this over with so he could eat and sleep.
"Come in."
The American entered the room and shut the door. He gave a cursory glance to the room as he approached the captain's desk.
The room was spartan, as Mitchell was expecting of the man. A desk sat at the far end of the room in front of the only window. Two chairs sat in front of it. A bookshelf sat against the left wall and a wooden cabinet sat against the right. There was a painting of a battle that the American guessed was historical. Simple and practical, but with a hint of expression, just like the man before him.
He stood at attention as the captain looked up from his work. "Report. What's the news?"
Mitchell gave the man a detailed recounting of everything that happened on his mission. Iosef looked perturbed by what he heard, but said nothing until Mitchell was finished.
"You didn't kill her," Iosef said. It was more of a statement than a question. He gave the American a raised brow.
"No sir, I didn't. I was too preoccupied with gettin' away," Mitchell said simply and without a hint of shame. He just didn't care what the man thought of him right now.
"Well, at least you made sure you lost her before returning," the captain shook his head. "The Fourth Born's forces are already appearing. That werewolf was most likely an advance scout. Easy to move alone. Markus isn't going to like this…" he trailed off.
Mitchell said nothing as he waited for Iosef to dismiss him. The captain sighed. "You did well enough. I have to include this in my report to the alderman. You're dismissed, Marlowe."
The American nodded and left the room without a word. He headed straight for the mess hall, where he piled a large amount of food on his plate and ate silently. Once his fulfilling meal was finished, he made his way towards the guards' bathhouse, where he savored his first true bath in days.
When he stepped out, he realized he was in dire need of new clothes, reluctantly pulling on his dirty pants. He went shirtless for obvious reasons.
Once finished with his nightly routine, he put his belongings and unused clothes in his trunk. Before getting into bed, he checked to see if the coast was clear, then flipped his mattress over and hid his gun once more. Once finished, he set the mattress back and fell into his bed, embracing unconsciousness.
A/N: I realize now that I forgot to edit my last Author's Note. Whoops. Oh well, I'll keep it in as a way to remember my first start lol.
Anyway, as I'm sure y'all have noticed, there are characters from other media in this story. I intend on them to be different characters that make sense for the MGE universe. If you don't like that, then I guess you don't like it. Nothin' I can do about that.
All credit for these characters go to their respective creators, obviously.
Just wanted to get that off my chest.
Also, go check out my Beta/Editor Sir Yeetus Deletus's works. They are quality works.
Anyway, enjoy. Later on, y'all.