St. Mary’s City, Maryland

Outpost Eta

22:45

            Patrol duty- four solid hours of playing nanny to the world at large. After performing a haphazard exorcism and patching up the survivors from their own mishap, I was long-overdue for some R&R time. I rumbled down the street in my navy-blue SUV, before I pulled into a driveway, and shut off the engine. Top priorities- hot food, a steaming shower, and sleep, lots of it. A faint smile crossed my face, as I sat back in my seat, and took a look around.

The house in front of me was a simple enough affair- single floor, with a scattering of windows in the front, including a great big bay window overlooking the front lawn. The front door’s faded green paint was peeling at the edges, and its brilliant brass knob seemed to glow in the dim light from the street lamps. Hanging from the door was a rough-beaten, rusted cross. A row of bushes stretched along the front of the house, parallel to the stone walkway from the driveway to the front steps.

            Ordinarily, in peaceful times, I’d presume that the house in front of me was a small Catholic home, shut down for the night. However, these were not peaceful times, and this was no ordinary house. I knew for a fact that the cheerily-painted door was inch-thick steel, with a titanium brace for good measure. The window-shades were woven from a light Kevlar, and the window-pane itself had fine strands of Kevlar mesh reinforcing it as well. The homely-looking mini-fortress before me was nothing less than a Guardian outpost, one of the last remaining from the Fall. The war was over, but the day was far from saved.

            I opened the van door cautiously, and stepped outside. All was quiet. The air had a sharp quality to it, tinged with the salty tang of the bay. Far off, in another part of the neighborhood, I could hear a dog barking briefly, before falling silent. My footsteps seemed to echo on the cobblestones as I strode forward, my eyes scanning the bushes for something in particular, something vital.

            That’s when a low, sleek creature slithered out from the bushes and brushed against my ankles. I shot back, thoroughly awake. Its glowing golden eyes stared up at me, blinking like searchlights. I felt my heart rate slow back down again, and I reached down and scratched it behind its ears.

            “Hello Nero,” I muttered, kneeling down to pet him. “What’s going on, lil’un?” Nero, my cat, smirked up at me, and then padded up the cobblestones, bounced up the steps, and nosed the door open, before looking back expectantly. Come along, stupid human, and find out. I’m hungry, he seemed to say. I shrugged, and slipped after him, shutting the door behind me. Cats will be cats, after all.

            As the door swung shut behind me, a couple details stood out amidst the usual clutter of the entryway. A pair of muddy combat boots sat to the side, their heels coated with grit and wood splinters. To my left, the hat-slash-weapons rack had a familiar-looking sheathed broadsword hanging off a hook, its pommel marked with a stylized cross. I smiled- even Knights of St. John had to leave their boots and blade at the door at Vicky’s insistence. I paused to take off my own boots, lest I invoke the wrath of my Second-in-Command, hung up my overcoat next to the broadsword, and slipped through the house.

            I could hear voices from the kitchen, locked in bickering. As I stepped into the kitchen, Vicky and Jake were in a heated discussion with a tall, broad-shouldered man, clad in matte-black armor. Something you need to know about Vicky. Ordinarily, she’s quite chipper and compassionate, but at times when her patience is tried, like now, that all disappears behind a mask of cold iron, unforgiving and unyielding. I managed to catch her last words as I turned around the corner.

            “I don’t care if you’ve lost a sword, it’s late! Besides, Will’s not back yet, and if anyone is going to make the final decision, it will be-” her eyes met mine, and her mask of fury dropped. “Will! Where were you? What took you so long? You should have been back an hour ago! Have you been hurt?” she asked, her hands chopping the air emphatically. That was another thing- whenever she got emotional, she talked a lot, and used her hands to do what her mouth couldn’t.

            “Vick, it’s all right. I’m okay. I just ran into some geeks in robes, and they needed their pale arses pulled from their messed-up gathering, as usual, so I had to patch one of ‘em up and get them to a hospital. Now, who’s our distinguished guest?” The tall man turned to me, a weak smile on his face. A trio of jagged slashes ran down his chest plates, exposing bare metal. His caramel eyes were red-rimmed, but they still unwaveringly met mine. James Manaka, one of the three Knights of St. John, and the second-in-command to my big brother, Connor, stepped back from Vicky to face me.

“Hey Will, welcome back. Fight anything interesting, or just the same old rabble?” I felt a cold chill run down my spine, as I realized what had happened.

            “James… what happened to Connor?” I asked, hesitantly. James’s smile fell, and he gestured back towards the living room.

            “We need to talk,” James said.

            By the time we had all assembled in the living room and quieted down, midnight was drawing nearer, and my body was screaming for a few hours of sleep. Jake was lounging against the wall, alternately focusing on James, me, or the Rapid-Entry detonation charge he was fiddling with. Vicky was curled up on the futon in a tight little ball, fondling a steaming mug of tea- judging by the sharpness of the scent, it was probably peppermint. James sat opposite me, crouching over in a spare chair dragged in from the kitchen. I was settled in a big, over-stuffed Edwardian chair, the sort you could picture yourself drowning in whilst delving into a good book. Tonight, however, business had to be dealt with first.

 “I suppose you need to know where it all started then,” James began, and I nodded. He gathered himself, and continued. “Your brother, Lizzie, and I were on patrol, scouting out the old roads, when we found… I don’t know how to put this, but we found the Silver Hall.”

 The effect was instantaneous. Jake nearly dropped the detonation charge, and fumbled with it in the air before tossing it onto the couch. Vicky squeaked like one of those little yappy poodles that had been stepped on, and nearly spilled her tea all over herself. As for me, the wooden arm-rest creaked menacingly as my grip tightened for a moment. After so long…

“How can that be? The Hall was lost centuries back! It should be just a wreck, moldered away into firewood,” Jake quipped, crashing down on the couch next to Vicky. I nodded, leaning in. This better had been a good explanation. James sighed, and straightened up in his seat, almost reaching to straighten an invisible bowtie before he realized what he was doing, and stopped himself.

“The Silver Hall, as you may remember,” he began, “was primarily modeled after the standard second-century Roman-era frontier fort. As such, the walls were just hardwood logs, covered over with tar and reinforced with wrought iron struts.” James would have probably gone on for hours in professor-mode about the exact construction of the fort until I spoke up, breaking his flow.

“If y’all just found it… why didn’t ye just bury a beacon, so that a proper Retrieval team could reinforce it?” Realization slapped me in the face, and I froze in my seat. “What did ye find? What was in there that drew ya in?” James was silent, and refused to meet my gaze. Suddenly, in the jigsaw puzzle that was this whole affair, I had found a corner piece. “James. My dear comrade. Friend of old. Ye’ve found the Byzantium blade, didn’t ye?” I asked, my voice wavering.

 James flinched, met my eyes briefly, and nodded. I felt the prickly vine of adrenaline shoot through my veins, and I laughed aloud. Jake looked up at me quizzically, and put down the det charge on the coffee table gingerly. Vicky hesitated, and looked between me and James, judging the tension, before breaking the silence.

“Will… what’s the Byzantium blade? What’s so important about it for the Knights to risk their lives for it?” she asked in a tentative tone. I sighed, and leaned back in my chair, pausing a moment before beginning.

“To answer yer question, Vick, the Byzantium blade was a sword that was crafted in the early fourth century, during the reign of Constantine. After he officially legalized Christianity throughout all Rome, it was said that Prester John himself came to him, and awarded him with a sword, forged from the purest of iron, probably from smelted meteorite core fragments. In the hands of a righteous person, the blade could cleave through solid rock, dicing demons and devil-spawn alike. However, during the Fourth Crusade, it was lost during the sacking of Constantinople, and vanished fer a few centuries until it finally reappeared in an archaeological dig in Malta.

“As to how it got to America… well, we were quite influential back in the old days, and managed to get it from across the pond, but seriously ticked off the Vatican, resulting in the Guardian Order being unofficially excommunicated,” I concluded, leaning back in my chair, and taking a deep breath. I looked to James, and he nodded affirmatively.

“Close enough approximation,” James muttered.

“What happened, though? It should have been a quick in-and-out snatch,” I asked, leaning forward, my eyes locked on him. Jake put down his screwdriver next to the det charge, and leaned over too, his eyes intently boring into James. “It should have been quick, no hassle. What happened? You wouldn’t just leave them behind. What stopped you? What happened to my brother?” Time itself seemed to have stopped, as my mind went into overdrive. James shivered involuntarily, and hid his face in his hands. Silence stretched painfully thin, until James finally looked back up at me.

“Vamps. The Hall was overrun with vamps,” James muttered. “Ancient little buggers, too. By the time we had made it to the blade, they were right on top of us, scrambling out from the HQ building. Connor got the sword and vaporized a handful, but pretty soon, they were surrounded. I only managed to get away because I had an incendiary grenade, and torched the back wall, as well as a few dozen vamps. Your brother… he told me to get to you. He said that it was time that you called out Tank.” At this, the room exploded into chaos, as all of us tried to talk at once.

“Vamps? I thought they all-”

“Tank?”

“Hang on a minute, aren’t you-”

“I thought Tank had fallen, after the war!”

“Vampires don’t exist! How can we-”

I felt a raging heat rise up from my gut, as the three kept squabbling away, until finally, the boiler walls around my patience blew over.

“EVERYBODY-STOW-IT-RIGHT-NOW!”  Everybody did, and turned to me. Vicky’s eyes looked a tad bit watery, but she was doing a fine job at hiding it, holding it back. Jake shrunk back in his chair, and whimpered under his breath. James, however, stood (or rather, sat) his ground, staring back up at me straight in the eyes, unflinching.

I sighed, and sat back down. For all Jake’s ingenuity and courage in combat, he was still only 17. And Vicky, in spite of her tremendous temper, was by nature quiet and tender hearted, a librarian. James, however, had been around me and Connor for far too long to be much off-set by my blowing my top.

“I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I shouldnae have gone off like that. But if we’re going to get this done, we cannae be squabbling like a married couple, alright? Now, James, I hope you’re not too worn out, because it’s going to be a long haul. Jake, Vick, go upstairs and grab your heavy rigs, and be sure to bring along your crosses. I’ll explain everything along the way. Now, shift it.” As Jake and Vicky rushed off to the armory to get their battle armor, James and I shared a glance.

“Will he really come? After so long? Tank must be ancient by now!” James exclaimed. I shrugged, and sat back down, fumbling for my cell phone in my pocket.

“Aye, that he is, but he’s the only one left from the 45th Heavies that survived the initial charge back at Caelum. He’s all we’ve got. Now,” I said, while flipping open my phone, “Let’s see if the tin man can still fight.” I dialed in his number, and waited, listening to the dial tone ring a few times, until the other end finally clicked.

“Commander, this is Captain William MacGordon, Special Recovery Division. Ye remember me, aye? Well, we’ve got a little situation out here, one that ye just might be interested in…”

            Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the closest spot to the Hall still reachable by road. James pulled the van off the road into an open grove of trees and shut off the engine, dropping the van into total darkness. I slipped on my helmet, and could hear the scuffling of armor plates as they scrabbled for their own in the dark. Moments later, I felt the chill breeze of the cooling unit stutter into life, and the low-light filter flickered on, my field of vision glowing blue.

“Alright, gear up,” I said. “With luck, they don’t know we’re here yet. Remember, these things are just ancient little critters taking host in some poor medieval chaps, so standard protocols. Now, we rush the place, chuck around a few flash-bangs, purge the place, place a beacon, and walk out with the crew, and the sword. It should be easy enough, aye?” With that, we slid open the van door, grabbed our shields stacked up in the back, and stepped out into the darkness. There was not much to see- the tree line began maybe a few yards away from the van. A small dirt-trail snaked through the trees, with the occasional piece of litter strewn aside. The moon had slipped out from behind the clouds, beaming down on us as a silent observer. And there- Crap, this just had to be more complicated, didn’t it? There, tucked away next to the mouth of the grove, was an olive drab motor-scooter. Its gas tank was embellished with a badly-painted rendition of the Ghostbusters logo, and its license plate read “BADW0LF”.

“Chief?” Jake started, but I waved his rising question off.

“Aye, I see it. We’ve got civvies on the prowl. Amateur “paranormal investigators”, most likely. Just keep a sharp eye out for them. The last thing we need is to be caught on camera,” I spat, feeling my insides twist into a gorgon’s knot.

“But chief, what if they’re here to check out the Hall? And what about Tank?” James asked, and I could hear the hesitation in his tone. Beneath his words was a more niggling question. Will we fight alone? I sighed, and felt a small trickling thread of sweat dribble down my back. If the civvies are caught, it will be my fault.

“Tank will show up when he means to, ye know that. As for the civvies, we’d better get hoofing it before they get there, now shouldn’t we? Now let’s move it!”

            Half an hour later, we slipped from the tree line, into a clearing. James was at point, his shield held out before him. I was behind him, one hand resting on the pommel of my Tesla-blade, the other gripping my own shield. Vicky was at my side, her pike at the ready. Jake was on the tail-end of the formation, one of his hands reaching back to a long, bundled object, strapped to his back. For the last few weeks, Jake and Vicky had been collaborating on building it, but whenever I’d try and take a look, they’d shoo me off, saying it was just something for a rainy day.  

            James came to a stop, and held up a clenched fist at shoulder-level. Halt. Vicky and I padded to a halt, and Jake bumped into us with a gentle clatter of plates. He shrugged apologetically, and I nodded.

            “What’s going on?” I asked. A few moments passed, before James’ helmet comm. set clicked, and I heard him sigh.

            “That should be answer enough for you,” he said, pointing farther out across the field. My gaze followed the direction where he was pointing, and beneath my helmet, my lips formed a silent “Oh.” Rising from the shadows was a monstrous fortress. I could spot a few bulky objects protruding from the watchtowers, probably left-over remnants from the Chimera launchers. Its walls were made from thick logs, sharpened and tarred, and its gates were reinforced with thick bars of black iron. Scattered around the fortress were clusters of cut-down pikes, earthed spears, and sharpened branches, interlaced with chains and ropes laced with barbed fish hooks.

“Well, this will certainly be more complicated-like,” I muttered. Connor snorted.

 “We go up there one at a time to slip through the Hedgehog barriers, and we’ll risk being cut to pieces by the Chimeras, presuming they still work. However, if we go in a wedge, we can breach the Hedgehogs, and still get around to the gates,” he suggested.

“And leave your impromptu back door as a backup,” I concluded, and he nodded.

“Will, if we’re going to pull this off, we’ve got to ask for help from Up Top first. You know that,” Jake said. Beneath my helmet, I winced. Why hadn’t I remembered that? With great care, we shuffled into a huddle, placing our man-high shields at our backs, in case some crack shot in the watchtowers spotted us and riddled our hides. After a brief word of prayer, we formed up, and began the slow march across the field.

James and I were in front, crouched behind our shields and tramping forward, with our shields locked together. Jake and Vicky were behind us, their shields overlapping ours like a roof. As we staggered closer to the formidable fortress, it was hard to see much of anything from between the gap in the shields. I could hear the shudder and screech of spear heads scraping against our shields. Several times, we had to cut our way through the rope and hook snares, or otherwise make our way around to a better spot to cut through.

As we kept pushing on, inching our way to the Hall, my stomach was twisting and writhing like a nest of vipers. This is too easy. If I were them, I’d be raining down hellfire on approaching troops, and then send out a pincer formation to crush them on their vulnerable sides. What’s going on? What if it’s too late? What if- I caught myself mid-thought, and shook it off. If this kept up, when it came time for imminent combat, I’d freeze up when my team needed me most, and this entire mission would be for nothing.

After about ten minutes of trudging through the maze of pricking Hedgehogs, we finally arrived at the gates of the fortress. Far above, I could spot the patch-work bronze cross emblazoned above the gates, but no sign of any active sentries. When on earth will Tank get here? I shrugged, and set my mind to the task at hand. James nodded, and we broke formation, circling around him while he went to the gates, and gave them a push. They gave way for a few centimeters, and then stopped.

“Blast,” James said. “They bolted the door. Clever. Will, do you have any scaling gear?”

“Jake, come up here and show James what ye can do,” I said with a grin. Jake came up, fiddling in his belt pouches, and even though his face was hidden behind his emotionless visor, I could tell he was grinning. He stopped at the gates, looking over the approximate hinge and bolt spots, before pulling out a handful of fist-sized detonation charges. Within a few minutes, he secured them all with a few well-placed screws to the gates, and stood back. Over the helmet comm. link, I could hear him muttering to himself.

“Packs one, two, and four might have had fraying wires… not good. Not good.”

“And why’s that, mate?” I asked, breaking his train of thought. Jake shrugged.

            “If the wires are frayed, then the signal might not reach the internal explosives. If that happens, then we might get the top hinges blown off, but otherwise we’re left with still functional gates, and we’d have to burn time to go back for bigger dets. Assuming everything’s running, request permission to blow these things sky-high?” Jake asked. I paused a moment, and then nodded. Jake fished out the detonation primer, and pushed the button. The detonation packs exploded in a staccato of sharp flashes of light in the darkness, before vanishing behind thick clouds of black smoke. Silence fell for a moment, before the towering gates collapsed to the ground with a prolonged screech of resisting hinges, and a thundering thud as it hit down. We stood awestruck before the gaping gateway, and for once, James and Vicky were at a loss for words.

“I jury-rigged the dets to direct their force inwards,” Jake said, in a smug tone.

“Good job lad,” I said, and clapped him on his shoulder-plate. Now let’s get in there.” With that, I stepped up onto the outstretched gate, a drawbridge into the darkness, and Jake and Vicky followed in my wake, pulling into formation alongside me. James followed behind after a moment’s pause, covering our tail as we entered into the darkness of the Silver Hall. I’m coming brother, I’m coming. Hang on. Unless the vamps were stone-deaf, they would know we’re here.

As we padded down the desolated parade ground of the fortress, I didn’t pay much attention to the rot and decay around me. To my right, there was a scattered pile of Legionnaire shields, most of them looking more or less intact. Along the wall, there was a gaping hole, scorched around the edges- a testament to James’ incendiary grenade. There, in the pavilion ahead, I could spot three figures huddled up around each other on the ground- two were clad in heavy-looking black armor. The third was clearly a girl, dressed in ragged jeans and a battered-looking leather jacket, her choppy red hair hiding her face. I cursed under my breath and broke formation, thundering across the echoing pavement, until I stumbled to a stop.

“Will?” Connor asked incredulously, looking up at me. I felt my heartbeat slow down to normal, as I took in everything. His armor, like Liz’s, was more battered and scratched up than usual, and their neck-plating looked dented, but otherwise, they seemed okay. Their swords were still belted to their sides, but their survival packs were missing.

“Where’s the rest of your gear?” I asked, as I got behind them, unsheathed a knife from my belt, and cut them loose. “Gone,” James said, as he staggered to his feet, and pulled Lizzie and the red-headed girl to their feet. “As you should be. You shouldn’t have come.”

“Hang on a minute- we came all this way here to save you, and now you’re telling us to go?” Vicky asked, before she turned to look back towards the gates, and froze. I looked back to the gates too, and barely paid attention to Lizzie’s words that followed.

“They don’t want us, or the sword. We were just bait. I’m sorry, Will, but they wanted you. Vengeance against the Order that hunted them.” Off in the darkness, crawling down from the watchtowers and walls, were dozens of lithe, skeletal figures, almost blending in with the murk of the night. A few had already reached the ground, and were racing towards us. I felt my whole body stiffen, as adrenaline flowed through my veins. I muttered a few creative phrases in Gaelic, and unsheathed my Tesla-blade.

“Shields! Phalanx formation, in five!” Jake jumped into action, ran over to the pile of shields, and came back with a few. Vicky and James stood by me, and locked their shields with mine, and once Jake gave Connor and Lizzie their own, they joined in, forming a rough line against the wall. All along the shield wall, I heard the buzzing hum of Tesla-blades stuttering to life. I glanced over and saw that Connor was now wielding an ancient-looking sword, its blade blackened with age, and that Jake had- honestly? In his free hand, Jake was gripping a long, willowy sword, with an ornately crafted handguard and grip- a home-made, over-powered stun katana. The red-headed girl seemed to come to her senses, and began protesting.

“Wait, you guys aren’t cops, are you? This is some freaky sh-” she began, but Lizzie cut her off.

“Mind your tongue, girl. Either stow it and leave through the hole, or grab a shield,” Lizzie snapped. The red-head looked like she was about to retort, but ran out and grabbed one of the remaining shields instead, and stood by us. Jake nodded in acknowledgement, and I could tell that he was impressed by her tenacity.

            “Are you armed, girlie?” he asked. She nodded, and whipped out a wicked-looking switchblade from her sleeve.

“This ‘girlie’ has a name, you know,” she said, with a hint of a tremor in her voice. “Alexis Smith, if you don’t mind.”

“Point noted,” I said, and then there was no more time to talk. The first few vamps of the wave reached the shield wall, and were instantly cut down. Far off in the gloom, I could see that the rest of them had made it off the walls, and were all charging at us. Will Tank even come? Where is he?

“Heads up!” a voice cried out, and my attention was whipped back to the current situation. The swarm smashed down against our shield wall like a tsunami, hacking away at our shields with fist and claw. All along the line came loud pops and bright flashes of light as my team lashed out with their blades, zapping a handful of vamps into unconsciousness. All thoughts were flushed from my mind, as I stabbed and slashed at whatever I could see from over my shield.

The rank scent of rotting flesh emanated from the masses before me. Their grayish skin was pulled taut over their bones, like leather. Unlike the normal myth, their teeth were like a shark’s, multiple rows of yellowed, sharp incisors champing away. One vamp managed to slip between the flashing blades, and reached over the shield for me, grasping blindly. I whipped my helmeted forehead into its face with a sharp crack of metal on bone, and it fell to the ground, stunned.

            That was more than enough of a distraction for two to rush me at once. I cut one down, but the other reached over his fallen brother, and snapped my blade in two. Crap. The vamp threw down my splintered blade, and pulled on my shield, tugging me off-balance. It threw my shield aside, and before I knew it, I was on the ground. I could hear my squadmates crying out my name over the comm. link, but they couldn’t do anything to help, barely managing to hold their own against the relentless horde.

            I fumbled in my belt for my cross, but a heavy boot tramped down on my chest, another on my arm, pinning me down, and a savage swat sent my helmet flying. I looked up into the glassy eyes staring down at me, and flinched as a drop of frothy saliva dripped from its maw. I was going to die. It leaned down over me, its jaws opening wide, when-

            “Get. Off,” a voice over me growled, enhanced by a helmet-set mike. I looked farther up, and an armored fist flashed over me, sending the vamp crouched over me hurtling with a whimper. I felt myself being hoisted to my feet, and I turned around to face my rescuer.

He was incredibly tall, built like a bear, and his armor was battered and stained. I looked up into a bone-white helmet, its reflective visor glinting in the light of flashing Tesla-blades. I felt a grin creep across my face- Tank had come to the fight at last.

“The door was open, so I thought I might as well come in. Figured you might want this back,” he rumbled, and handed me back my helmet. I nodded my thanks and slipped it back on, as he stepped back into the fray, swinging a broken tree branch like a mace, sending vamps flying. I picked up my shield, and the shattered remnant of my sword, and hacked my way back to the shield wall, still under attack by the remaining vamps. Between me and the shield wall, we took the vamps down with little difficulty. The battle for the Silver Hall was over.

The next few hours were a haze. We all went through the droves of unconscious vamps, and finished the job. Most of them shriveled to dust when we were done, but one woke up for a moment, its eyes a vivid grass-green, mouthed “I thank you, lord” to me, and then disintegrated like the rest. I felt a heaviness that was unrelated to the weight of my armor settle on me, as the battle adrenaline wore off. It was nearly two in the morning, and it was long since time to shut down for the night.

As for Alexis Smith, paranormal investigator extraordinaire, we escorted her back to her motor-scooter, and gave her our contact information, as an after-thought. Despite being a civilian, she had held her ground in the face of imminent, unholy danger, and showed courage. My crew and Connor’s Knights lingered on in the grove, chatting idly, until I spotted Tank lingering on the outskirts, settled down on a tree stump with the now-sheathed Byzantium blade on his lap. I stepped away from the group, and sauntered up to him.

“You’ve no need to thank me, Captain,” he said without looking up from the elegantly-crafted handguard of the blade. “I came when I could, and did what I could, and by His grace, just when I was needed.”

“But… why would you? You could have just ignored the call, and gone on with your own hunting,” I stated, incredulous. Tank sighed, before gingerly peeling off his helmet to look down at me. His face was cracked, like dry leather, and his silver beard bristled in the cool night air. His salt-and-pepper hair was short-cut, but curly. A pale, jagged scar slashed down his face, but his gentle green eyes belayed its savageness.

“I came, Will, because I have fought alone for too long. You needed help, so I responded. You have done good for Christendom, and the Order. You reminded me there’s more to serving the Kingdom than just fighting for myself. For that, I must thank you, Captain, for calling me back.” With that, he slipped his helmet back on, tucked the Byzantium blade into his belt, and strode off down the path.

“What will you do with the blade?” I called after him.

“I’ll take it somewhere safe, where it can’t be stumbled upon by accident. Go get some rest, Captain, we will meet again, I feel,” he said, without looking back, and vanished into the undergrowth. I stood back, and felt a gentle arm wrap around my shoulder.

“Tank’s a good man,” Connor muttered. “A bit of a nutter, but all the best folk are.” I grinned at this, and shrugged off his arm.

            “And you, big brother, are the biggest nutter of them all. Besides, you owe me one.” Connor laughed, and shoved me off.

            “To my recollection, little bro, I saved your scrawny hide back in December, when you were ambushed in Pennsylvania. So I’d say we’re even. By the way, do you mind if we crash over at your place?” I thought for a moment, and shrugged.

            “Landlord might mind, but why not? Onwards and outwards.”