She was young, half dressed and hysterical walking down the highway. It was cold and a fresh layer of Decmeber snow had fallen on the ground. I repressed the Memeory of a a winter 20 years earlier when I heeded the call for revenge. First mission was to get her out of traffic. Careless humanity honking horns speeding passed. Some men slowing down asking if she wanted a ride. Well ride something at least. I pulled over said a short prayer and thanked my truck for holding itself together. The police would come soon and I knew she was either a vic or bait. The bites were apparent and there was a nest nearby. I could hear Calice talking to me her voice, an echoing vibrato like she was talking through a fan. Indistinct at first it became clearer and clearer.
CHALICE – Save her.
RONIN – What do you think I’m doing boss.
Traffic started to screech to a halt. A few choice words were spoken by some young touch until he saw me and promptly learned the value of silence. Sinatra Blue eyes beneath a face that looked like 10 miles of bad road. My hair blonde and graying cut short to keep out of my eyes. I wasn’t undercover so I was me for the first time in a while.
I scooped her up, she weighed nothing. She was tiny. About 24, hispanic. Tan skin peering out of a red lingerie. She was babbling in Spanish. “Feo”
I forced down my inate lechery.
CHALICE – Repress that.
RONIN – Already on it boss.
My truck is named Roxanne for the heroine muse of another ugly hero. Roxie has always treated me well. I put the vic or bait in the back. She hadn’t turned.
Chalice appear differently to every hunter. Some of us have even speculated she’s a kind of shared hallucination. But you always recognize her. She gives you some assignments. She puts people in your path to train. I have an idea of who she is. But I ain’t telling just yet.
She appeared to me, Emma’s face. White face, blooded lips and dead eyes.
CHALICE – Get her someplace safe and warm.
RONIN – Yeah boss, I figured.
CHALICE – As much as you are one of my favorites. You need to start training again. The average life expectancy of a hunter is five years. You’ve been doing it twenty. You know what the other crews call you.
RONIN – The man who can’t be killed.
CHALICE – Let’s not make liars of them, Shall we my knight.
She always called me “My knight” as a harsh reminder of Emma. To me we hunters were always somewhere between Knight, Viking, Samurai, and Gladiator. Fighting to earn our spurs and freedom from the madness. We travel fight the wars and are as much her vassals as part of her stable. Sometimes it was as much about the story of the fight and the roar of the crowd who’s cheers and boos we could hear.
Some idiots believe that humanity is secretly under the thrall of alien lizards and radio waves are a form of mind control controlled by a pro Zionist conspiracy. These bastards are perfect fodder for the shades. Yes the governments know there are monsters and yes they have been in bed with some of the more civilized shades for some time. Don't trust anyone unless they're your crew of they've been vetted Chalice. Her intelligence ops keep eyes on everything. She can give you reconassaince and targets. She also is not adverse to giving orders.
Not to get her someplace safe and warm. And I need a drink.
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