The Motorknight

“Arrive at 8pm in full kit, we leave by 9.”

The text was short and simple, like all the mass texts were. Griffon was planning something. Who knew what it was, but it was enough to summon the whole gang. Sir Anon put stuffed his phone back into his pocket. And to think that today was supposed to be his day off.

--------------------

You think someone would get used to the sound of 20 motorcycles flying down the streets. Not him. It still got him every time. That and the sight of it; 20 men armored in shining plate armor on top of an iron steed. It was the ultimate anachronism.

The signal came down the line and groups of four or five started breaking off and heading down side streets. Port Town was littered with alleyways and other places to hide. Sir Anonymous’s group headed down one of these.

“Alright boys, hit the lights. We hold up here until we spot them or get the signal.” That was Sir Gideon, a veteran knight with at least double Anon’s experience. Engines were cut and there was a moment of silence.

“Sir Gideon,” one of the men said. It was Sir Dusk, barely knighted until recently. “Would you be so kind as relay the plan to me once more?”

“Dusk, you can cut the flower talk until the next tournament or ball. We don’t use it in the field. The plan is to wait here until we see the Knights of St Cuthbert pass by. We don’t know how many they’ll have or their route so we tail them until everyone else can converge. Didn’t you listen to the briefing at all?”

“Uh, no sir. I was late.”

Sir Anon didn’t listen for the next 15 minutes. He’d heard it before and it never changed. There’s a formula for chewing people out. Hear one and you hear them all. It’s always quiet for a few minutes afterwards too. Then the conversation picks up again and occasionally banter.

Another hour of waiting passed by before they heard it: roaring engines. They were hauling ass two streets over by the sound of it, faster than they should’ve been.

One of the knights started their engines. “Cut that shit, we don’t move until we get the signal.”

Another minute rolled by before everyone’s phone starting going off. Engines came to life, helmets and headlights went on before all 4 of them peeled out of the alleyway. It was as following the noise at that point.

Anticipation built in his stomach. The smell of gas and resined leather. The flash of lights through the steely iron mask. The vibrations in his legs. Headlights ahead, a lot of them.

Anon drew his sword, a hand-and-a-half or bastard sword or whatever you want call it. He called it Lucy. A quick look to his speedometer: 50 mph. Too fast for taking people head on. Getting hit that fast kills people, armor or not, and ransom for prisoners was good money if risky.

Anon braked hard to a more manageable speed and picked a target in the middle of the bunch. Only a few more seconds before contact. They were starting to split and swerve to avoid Anon’s bunch.

He raised his sword up take a swing at his target. They hadn’t reacted in time to dodge or maybe he didn’t see him. Who knows? Anon didn’t and wouldn’t care as he dragged his sword across much of his enemy’s bike and leg. The front tire blew and they lost control, separating the rider from his bike. They skid across the pavement before hitting the curb. Anon would come back and pick them up later.

Another two riders went down though he didn’t know who nor did he have time to see. He hit the brakes hard and spun his bike around. There was still a fight to get on with even if he fell behind.

He rested his sword arm across his lap. It always hurt after a swing, almost like hitting a motorcycle moving at least 70 mph relative to you. He didn’t make the mistake of aiming for the rider. He’d done that once trying to unseat the guy and almost pulled his arm out of his socket.

A glance at the speedometer, 60 mph and barely rising. It was hard to get much faster when he had his armor on, it was too heavy for the engine to handle. He didn’t have enough time to catch up to the pack. The best thing he could do for now was to collect his prisoner.

The scene wasn’t much different than what he left. One of the bodies was missing though. Anon’s prisoner wouldn’t get away if he had anything to do with it. A quick look showed a trail of blood going into an alley.

It led up to a one of those large trash cans you’d find in an apartment complex. Anon cleared his throat, “Surrender now and be my prisoner. Make it easy for everyone.” There was no response. He hit the can with his pommel. “You’re bleeding. That can be fixed the good way or the bad way.”

Still no response. “I offer mercy, come out or I will come in.”

“Alright, I’m coming out.”

“Unarmed.”

“Of course.”

The lid opened slowly and a set of hands popped out. A knight with dirty tabard rolled out and plopped onto the ground, “If you don’t mind I’m feeling kind of weak so I’ll just lay here…”

A small puddle of was starting to form around his lower body. Just great, Anon didn’t need his prisoner bleeding out on him. He ran back to his motorcycle and rummaged through his bag for a small first aid kit and a set of handcuffs.

The handcuffs went on first with only a few moans from his new prisoner. The wound was deep, but clean. Lucy had gone around a plate, cut through the mail, and into his thigh. Lucky that the hit didn’t get anything too major. A few minutes of pressure before he wrapped it up with a bandage. It would last long enough for real doctor to show up.

Back in the street were two more bodies: one with a tabard, one without. This was an ambush so Anon wasn’t wearing anything to identify him. The closer one was the knight with bare armor. Anon unlatched the visor and found Dusk. He was breathing but out like a light.

The one with the tabard, the Cuthbert knight, wasn’t as lucky. He lay at the base of a light pole with one half of his armor caved in. Quick at least. Armor would help with sliding on pavement but there was only so much it could do for blunt force.

Anon laid the knight’s body out in the alley with his hands clasping his sword to his chest, a note with “Condolences” written on it, and a $100 bill. It was always sad when a knight was taken in battle on either side. Everyone has respect for the dead to some degree.

A quick call to the Couriers would secure transport and clean up services. The benefits of having an anonymous underground delivery service were great if expensive. There was always things to move nowadays and they were good at their jobs.

Another call to Sir Gideon went to voicemail. “This is Sir Anon, I have a prisoner that went with the Couriers to see a doc. Dusk is with them too. The bikes are being cleaned up, one body. I’ll be at the Fort.”

--------------------

The Fort was less of a fort and more of a garage near the docks than anything else. On the books it was officially an equipment repair shop. It still did that occasionally too. But that was the Stablemaster’s business, not concerning Anon except when his bike needed something. Inside the Fort was like any other mechanic’s shop except with more motorcycle parts than a dealership. Every spare part was needed in his profession.

Anon left his motorcycle in the workshop and walked into the office, sinking into an old office chair. It groaned in protest as he worked his helmet off. He turned it in his hands when he had it off; a barbute with a visor, a few engravings of roses here and there for pleasantries. Anymore and he’d have to set it aside as a ceremonial piece. There were dings and nicks that hadn’t been there earlier. Who knew where they came from but they always came out. More armor came off his limbs, though only the more simple pieces. He’d have to put it back on later.

His phone had a new message on it. “Congratulations, Sir Anon. All laws will apply to the prisoner.”

Anon let out a sigh and a string of curses. ‘All laws’, it had said. That meant HE was the one that had to store and ransom the prisoner. It also put restrictions on treatment and conditions. Only the best for a knight of noble blood, right? Well there were facilities at his disposal at least. That could wait for a day or two though. Until he got released from duty, Anon was stuck with Motorknight activities.

The clock read 11pm. Damn, Anon was tired. He still had the weekend to look forward to no matter how busy it might be. A nap wouldn’t hurt. Alarms were set on his phone a few hours ahead. They’d wake him or the gang returning would.

--------------------

Anon awoke with a jolt. That annoying alarm tone song thing got him every time. He dismissed it and saw he had a message. The only thing it said was to go home. Good enough for him if he didn’t have things to do and calls to make.

The first few calls went out to a few other knights to secure a safehouse. The Motorknights had a few, one for prisoners, it was just a matter of seeing if it was available. That one belonged to “Tom Green”. Tom Green had died near 20 years ago as far as Anon knew. He really had just disappeared, vanished without trace. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. The next call was to get the Couriers to drop off the prisoner at the safehouse.

The safehouse was on the other side of Port Town, a big city and old enough to be crumbling in places. The last few decades hadn’t been easy on it for sure. Some places were rather nice though out in the suburbs like the safehouse was in. It was almost an ideal home, well maintained and within the HOA regulations except for the unmarked van in front of it. The Couriers would wait for payment before he got the prisoner. Stingy bastards they were, but reliable.

It cost two grand for the delivery and another for the doctor. The driver pocketed the money and signaled into the back of the van. Doors opened and two men wearing coveralls, ski masks, and gloves move a crate into the garage. The ski masks were a bit much but he couldn’t blame them seeing as how we was still wearing his helmet. They were gone as quick as they came.

Anon closed the garage door and gave the crate a couple good kicks. A groan resounded, confirming its contents. He whipped out a utility knife he always carried with him and went to work on the top of the crate. It came off with a creak and then a pop as the nails came out. Couriers made some good crates.

The sight inside was unpleasant. A full grown man covered in nothing but a bloody gambeson and stuffed in a too small box. The Couriers must have taken the armor or just thrown it out. Probably try to sell it back to him. A kick set the box on its side and the knight flying out. “Get up you lout!” Anon yelled as he kicked the knight in the ribs. Boots hurt. He could only imagine what sabatons felt like.

“I said get up.” Another kick kept him down. “Lazy bastard. This is pitiful, just pitiful. Get over here.” Anon dragged him across the garage and through the door. On the other side was a barren kitchen with a table a some chairs. He put the man into one roughly and waited for him to become more cognizant.

Anon cleared his throat and put on his pretty voice. “Sir Knight, from here forward here forward I invoke the Codes and the laws it holds. I offer hospitality on my honor in exchange for your cooperation. Do you accept?”

The knight was breathing heavily, clutching at his chest. He refused to look at Anon. Anon fixed that with a right hook. “Look at me! Do you accept?”

A moment of before he recovered. “I accept.” The sound of a defeated man.

“Good. What is your name fair sir?”

“Sir Green. If you’re looking for ransom, then yo-”

“I’m doing the talking here,” Anon interrupted as he pulled out his phone. “I will get my ransom, one way or another. Now give me contact information to secure negotiations.”

Green let out a string of numbers and Anon diligently recorded them. “Now on your honor and what you hold dear, swear that you will not attempt escape. There are basic necessities here. Bars are on the windows and there are sensors around the house. If you attempt to escape, I will know, your life will be forfeit, and your honor tainted. Swear it.”

Another pause. “I so swear on my honor and what I hold dear. Now I ask your name. Who are you?”

“Nobody. By the code I don’t have to give my name. Get yourself cleaned up. You might be here for a while,” Anon said as he walked out and armed the sensors once he was out of sight.

That oath of hospitality was little more than superficial. It seemed lhe Code was violated every other day. No one just had the balls to call people out most of the time. But the Cuthberts held more to it than some other gangs did. Anon would hold his side if Green held his.

Anon hopped on his motorcycle and headed home. Sweat was starting build up in all the wrong places. He could call the Couriers to arrange a go between. They did that mostly for free if they knew you. After that he could finally pass out.

--------------------

He awoke to a call from his contact in the Couriers in the early afternoon. A meeting had been arranged between him and someone else that night. That was fast. It usually took a week or so before each side would talk to each other. He’d need a second to watch his back. Of the 20 or so full time Motorknights, he was on that good of terms with maybe 10. He’d trust less than half those as a second. Of those few, only one wasn’t busy because he had a minor concussion. So Anon dialed up Dusk.

--------------------

The meeting was in Old Port Town, a more rundown part of the city. More than usual that is. There had been an effort to clean it up not too long ago. It worked a little bit but everyone who hadn’t been there for long hardly noticed. The deli the meeting was supposed to take place in wasn’t bad. It had some decent sandwiches but not the best.

Anon parked his truck a few blocks down and unloaded his bike. Cars could be tracked easier than bikes so he’d finish the journey there with it. The back door to the deli opened when he rode around the back and he could see a Courier. Two more bikes were parked nearby. He parked, gave the Courier the code phrase “Salami rolls” and walked into the back room.

It was probably an office before tonight. There were still impressions on the floor. Dusk was standing in a corner, hand on his sword. Another knight was sitting at plastic table that was set up. The knight’s pig faced visor looking your way. Anon always dislike that style.

They stood up. “Greetings. You’re friend there is pretty quiet.” The voice was high pitched, rather annoying at that too.

“Yes, he is. What about you? Who are you? Why are you here alone?”

“I’m here to negotiate on behalf of Sir Green and I was unaware that others were to be present,” he said as he glanced at the Couriers at the doors and Dusk.

No name, not that one was required. If the Couriers set it up then it was legit. They had a reputation to upkeep. Though it was stupid to arrive alone.

“Think of it as added security,” Anon said. “Now on to negotiations?”

“Yes, name your price.”

“Ransom starts at 15 grand in cash.”

“Ah yes, about that…”

“What?” Anon didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t have that much money.”

“If you don’t have money then you’re here to waste my time and we can call the conversation over.”

“Wait! Let’s make a deal? Something can be worked out.”

“That’s not how things work. Contact me again when you have it. Good day,” Anon turned and walked out the door. He wasn’t gonna play at the table. He was patient enough.

He was almost at his bike when he heard someone in armor scrambling after him. His hand went to his sword as he turned. The knight had come out to meet him and Dusk had followed.

“Don’t leave! I… I challenge you to a duel!”

Anon froze for a moment. Duels were bad for business. “For what purpose?”

“For the freedom of Sir Green.”

“Dandy. And if I win?”

“The-then I’ll be your prisoner in exchange for his freedom.”

“That’s hardly a fair deal, Knight. You’re inexperienced in such matters and it glares like a lantern in the darkest of night. Your ransom would be minimal.”

“I’ll pay the difference in ransoms and offer 5 thousand here and now. I can afford that.”

Anon thought for a moment. This deal was becoming sketchier by the moment. But the money on the table would make up for the price even if one of them escaped. He’d make more money if this came through. IF it came through. He looked at Dusk and nodded. This was going to be easy.

“Very well. Ho! Draw your longsword!” Lucy was out in a moment and he had his stance ready with Lucy held over his head, pointed at the other knight. Dueling was riskier than your usual fight. Both sides had an equal advantage at the start. The area behind the deli was a wide alleyway for deliveries and such. Buildings were on either side blocking view. This duel wasn’t likely to be interrupted.

The opponent assumed a rather basic stance, longsword held in front of him. They circled each other for a few long moments before the knight lunged at Anon. It wasn’t sloppy persay, just obvious. Anon stepped out of range, then back into range and counter attacked. They parried and attempted a riposte which Anon deflected with his crossguard, throwing both their defenses wide. He was caught by surprise when the enemy knight, instead of disengaging, stepped up to re engage immediately.

Another swing and Anon turned wildly to catch the blade with his own. He was successful for the most part with only minor scratches on his back piece to show for it. This opponent was good. And aggressive. Two could play at that game. Anon stepped within his enemy’s defense while the opening was still there. He grabbed at the knight’s sword arm and drove it high. His own sword was useless at this range so he dropped it and whispered a prayer that he wouldn’t need it again. His now free had drove a punch into the other’s helmet. It didn’t even stagger them. He hit again and again. Anon’s free hand moved under the leg of the knight and lifted in an attempt to trip him.

It worked surprisingly well and they were both on the ground. The enemy knight was still clutching at their sword. Anon reached for his boot knife and the knight stopped going for the sword. He stopped Anon in time to keep a dagger from plunging down at his neck. They grappled for the knife but Anon was on top and slowly gaining the advantage with each second. “Yield! Yield damn you!” The knife came closer to the enemy’s throat. It passed the outer gap of armor.

“Mercy!” Anon stopped and they both froze. The looked at each other before Anon let up and the knight relaxed. Anon flipped the dagger while he could and brought the pommel down on the knight’s helmet. He jolted before going limp. Anon sat back and caught his breath.

“Dusk, get over here.”

“Shit, Anon. That was awesome. You good?”

“Yeah. Just give me a moment. Go search the bike for cash, take 5 thousand. No more.”

Anon calmed down while Dusk rummaged through the bags on the bike that wasn’t his. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug. Makes you forget breathing, pain, just about everything. But he loved it all the same, even the jitters afterwards. Dusk came back with a wad of money and handed it to Anon before offering a hand to Anon. He took it and stood up.

“Help me with the body. You’re gonna have to ride with him in your lap for a few blocks until we get my truck.”

“If you say so. But you owe me a drink after this.”

“Whatever.”

They lifted the body onto the bike and the suspension squealed in protest. One person in armor was enough for these bikes. Two people in armor was overkill. Anon gave the Couriers free run of the nameless knight’s bike in exchange for moving Green out of the safehouse. They’d find something to do with the bike.

They rode in silence; Dusk almost slipping once or twice with the dead weight. Anon’s truck came into view. An old green Ford but still running. They dumped the body in the bed.

“Hey Dusk, thanks for showing up and taking my advice.”

“No problem. Though being told to shut up and look pretty wasn’t on my list of things to do this weekend.”

“Ha, those are the things that are funnest.”

“Watching you roll around in a puddle was pretty fun now that I think about it.”

“Shut up and look pretty. But nah, you have a good one. See you around.”

“Before you go, Anon, I’ve got a question. Were you scared?”

The question took him by surprise. It always got Anon that some people in this kind of life were so young. Not that he was much older, but Dusk was barely an adult. “Of course. Only the dead aren’t afraid and I’m not there yet. Now good night.”

Anon loaded his bike into the bed and tied it down before hopping into his truck. The drive was filled with late night radio. His favorite rock station always played the best stuff at this time. Ad free too because who listens at this time nowadays?

--------------------

He pulled up to the house and checked the sensors. None of them had been tripped. He opened the door and no one charged out to escape. A quick search of the house showed him that it was empty. No Sir Green to be found. Either he got out or the Couriers took him. Either way he got his prisoner and some of his money. He went back to the truck and pulled it into the garage.

Dragging around a fully armored body around wasn’t fun but mystery knight was in a bed now. Anon went to work undoing the visor and helmet. It caught on something and almost shat himself when he saw what. A god damned muzzle. A hairy one. A wolfish one? And ears. Big triangle ears that stuck up on their own. Jesus, what had he found?

Anon took a deep breath before starting on the rest of the armor, extremities first. Leathery pads on the hands. The fingers were a bit different but just as capable and tipped with claws. The feet were like those of dogs. They had been just stuffed into boots that couldn’t have been comfortable. The legs were the same too, digitigrade if he recalled the term correctly, and stuffed into ill fitting armor not built for such legs. He—it?—was well muscled too, probably from training and moving in armor. Curiosity burned in him now. The armor was gone but why stop now?

The gambeson went and he stepped back. Bandages bound it’s chest. Some wound or existing condition? He started to undo them when he realized what they were for. Anon felt slightly ashamed now as he threw a sheet over his work, but things started falling into place. The voice, how easy it was to trip, but why was he—no she—here in the first place? There was going to be a long talk when she woke up.

While she was still asleep, he could clean himself up. But first he had to secure the situation, she could wake at any point. Anon took the pile of discarded armor and stuffed it into his truck along with all the weapons. He also made sure to check the glove compartment for his pistol. Sure he usually used swords and guns were frowned upon but you could only be so safe. It would stay tucked in the back of his pants for now just like his boot knife would stay in his boot.

He made his way to the bathroom. It had been at least two days since his last shower. He had been either too busy or too tired. The man staring back in the mirror looked the same as always: shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, average enough face that could be called handsome by some. Steam was starting to lick at the edges of the mirror when he turned the cold tap and stepped in. Hours, days of work melted away under the water. Sweat melted under the liberal use of the crappy soap they stocked the bathroom with. It ended much too soon and he stepped out and dried off. He’d have to wear the same clothes but they didn’t smell too too bad.

There wasn’t much to do other than lock the bedroom door from the outside and find something to do. Anon put on a pot of coffee and started to clean his armor in the kitchen.

--------------------

It had been an hour since he finished his armor and put it away. He hadn’t hit it—her, not it or him—that hard had he? He’d pulled that move before and they weren’t ever out this long. The last thing he needed was for her to have a concussion. He got a flashlight out of his truck and went to the bedroom door. It was still locked. With one hand behind his back and fingering the gun, he slowly unlocked the door. He paused and listened to the silence before nudging it open with his foot. The she-wolf was still unconscious. He lifted an eyelid and turned the flashlight on.

The eyelid forced itself shut and a flailing arm caught him in the chest. It wasn’t much more than a vane attempt to dislodge him but he obliged. She was kicking at the sheets and rubbing her eyes now. Anon cleared his throat, “Rise and shine sleeping beauty. Or is it the beast in this story?”

The she-wolf perks up at your voice, backing away as far she can on the bed without toppling onto the floor. She frantically scans the room before recovering her own modesty, pulling the sheet over her chest, and glaring daggers at Anon.

“Fear not, beast. I’d not abuse a maiden no matter how… unconventional. Let’s start off easy. You give me what I need and it gets easier. Now, you’re name?”

Why do they always have to be so silent? He wondered.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? I couldn’t have hit you that hard to make you forget your own name,” Anon jibed.

“Clarissa.”

“Clarissa, now that wasn’t so hard.” Anon was speaking softly now, “Now my curiosity is burning. Just what exactly are you?”

“Where’s Green? I can smell him here.”

“Hush now. If you must know he’s gone away from here, safer than you right now. I must insist you answer my question. Now.”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Oh no, I must have hit you harder than I thought. Tell me, how well do you know the Code? You do know the Code that the gangs follow right? You have to if you wear the armor. Speaking of armor, there weren’t any dog people in any of the gangs last I heard. I’m sure you had a good reason to attempt to impersonate a nobleman such as a knight.”

Clarissa looked away.

“Very well, Claire. I hope you don’t mind I call you that. I’ll just be going now. You’ll talk when you’re ready and I’m a very patient man.” Anon walked to the door and looked over his shoulder. “I’m sure you know that the Code only applies to people, correct? I need not provide anything for you. And don’t try to escape, it’d be a shame to clean you off the pavement.”

He closed the door behind him and locked it. Playing bad guy wasn’t his favorite but it would work for now. Anon had no clue what the Code said about treating werewolves as people. It probably didn’t say. He sat down on the couch and listened to the sounds of the house, the creaking of pipes in the wall, the wind rustling the leaves outside the window. He was running through a list of things she might try. Most of them he could prevent and the others he could respond to as needed. He got up and poured himself a bowl of cereal, making loud savory noises as he ate. It was the wee hours of the morning. It was going to be a long day.

--------------------

It was a long day. The screaming, the banging on the door, the window smashed, the bedroom completely overturned. At times, all Anon did was turn a portable radio up the house had. He’d check up every once in a while on her to make sure nothing had happened. There was no pattern to it. The coffee had run out around lunch. He finished the book on his phone before dinner. The food was all canned or frozen, not the best but enough. The night was quiet. He found her asleep when he finally opened the door again. He locked it again and went to sleep himself.

The second day was much quieter, even for a Monday. Scarily so. Anon called into work then cleaned the glass outside the window up that day, taking a peek inside while he could. She was laying on the bed staring at a wall. He supposed he was lucky that she hadn’t tried anything with the broken glass. It was all accounted for after all.

Anon jumped when he heard knock from the bedroom door just after sunset. “I’ll talk. Just please let me out. I need water.”

It was going on 8pm when he answered. “Stand back, don’t try anything.” He said through the door. There was creaking on the other side, probably from the mattress if he heard it right. He fingered the safety on his gun. The door clicked unlocked and he pushed it slowly open. She was sitting on the bed. It smelled like dog and a little like piss. He eyed the room and spotted a dark puddle spot in the closet. Gotta go when you gotta go, not like she could’ve picked a better place. He stepped into the room and motioned her out the door. She complied and he left behind her.

“The kitchen, take a seat at the table.” She did as he said. Still not saying anything. He stood behind her.

“You’re thirsty, right Claire? You’ll get something to drink as you answer questions. First question, you ready? It’s quite simple.”

Claire didn’t move.

“What are you?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Alright, next question. Why are you here? You can’t be a Cuthbert, so why?”

“I had to help Green anyway I could.”

“What is he to you? Do you owe him something? Does he own you? Are you his squire?”

“Yes. No and no. He’s just a really good friend who’s done a lot for me. Can I have some water?”

“Just a good friend, huh. Must be some friend to end up in a situation like this.” Anon opened a cupboard without taking eyes off of her. She was looking down at folded hand. The plastic cup filled with water and he set it down in front of her. She downed it in about three gulps.

“Slow down there, missy. I’d savor that water if I were you. The next question is the most important and answer very carefully. I know you don’t have money, how do you plan on paying the ransom?”

“I don’t know.”

“No one to pay or no one with the moola to pay?”

“Both.” It came out half choked.

“Great, you better not start crying. Double great, I’ve got a prisoner and no ransom.”

“More water?”

“Sure, why not.” He filled the cup again. “You don’t know the Knight’s Code, do you?” She shook her head.

“Well it governs what the knights do. Not just one band or order or gang. All of them. It extends privileges to everyone following them. I can offer you things if you do as I say. Hospitality, food, water, necessities. Don’t try to escape, answer any my question truthfully. Do you accept?”

Silence.

“You know at least a little of us. You can put armor on and swing a sword at least. I keep my word if you keep yours.”

Still she didn’t respond. Anon sighed and moved to the pantry. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet. His eyes settled on a can of tomato soup and decided on having grilled cheese with it. The bread was in the freezer but nothing that a little time on the pan wouldn’t fix. He got cheese out of the fridge, buttered the skillet, and set the stove to a nice medium-low heat. It would take a little longer but that’s how you get a nice toasted crust and melty cheese. The can of soup got opened and went on the other burner.

Anon sat down on the other side of the table while the sandwiches cooked. They would cook on their own for now. His phone didn’t have any new messages but he was almost done with his second book. Claire still hadn’t moved and was still looking at her hands resting on the table. He flipped the sandwiches and gave the golden crust a poke with the spatula. Just the right amount of crunch. The soup was started to boil so he took it off the burner and set it on the table.

The sandwiches finished cooking and went onto a plate. Anon cut them into halves like any decent man. “Oooh! Hot!” He exclaimed after his first bite. A few more bites and he dipped it into the soup can. “Oh man, that crust is perfect. And the cheese combined with the soup. Just perfect.” The first half went down. He licked his fingers and picked the second half.

“I’ll do it.” Claire finally spoke up.

“Oh? What now?”

“I’ll stay here, I won’t try to escape.”

“Very well.” Anon set down the second half. He pushed the plate and can across the table, standing up to refill the water cup. Claire was staring at him. “What? You just not gonna eat?” He asked. She gave the plate a look before picking up a sandwich and taking a tentative bite. Then another larger bite and another until the sandwich was gone. She hadn’t eaten in about a day and a half. The soup lasted about as long. She started sipping on water after she finished eating.

“Satisfied?” He asked.

Claire continued on her water.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now I hope you don’t take offense, but you need a shower. I’ll find you something to wear. The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left.”

He waited for the shower to start before he started looking. There had to be something in the house. There were some sweats in the laundry room but that was all. They’d fit his six foot frame and she wasn’t much smaller. Ok maybe he wasn’t six feet tall but he was just a hair under it, less than a quarter inch, and could pass for 6 foot flat. That’s what he told himself. Because it was true.

He knocked on the door and opened it just enough to shove the bundle of clothes in. He cleaned the dishes in the kitchen and put them away. The shower turned off and Claire stepped out a few minutes later. The sweats were loose on her but they fit. Her hair—fur?—was still damp.

“The washer is at the end of the hall if you want your gambeson, sheets, towels, whatever clean.” Anon pointed in that general direction. “And there’s a brush if you need it somewhere in this house. I’ve seen it before.”

Claire just stared at him. “Alright,” he acceded, “I’m going now. Don’t try to escape. I’ll know if you do.”

“I said I wouldn’t try, didn’t I?”

“You never know. People can always go back on their word.” Anon turned his back and seized up for a fraction of a second. He had turned his back and nothing happened. She just went into the bedroom. God, he wasn’t always so jumpy.

His truck was waiting for him and he took it back home. He could finally sleep in his own bed, eat his own food, shower in his own bathroom. Anon fell asleep peacefully and almost smashed his phone when his alarm went off. He shaved, got ready, ate breakfast, and left for work.

--------------------

Work was almost therapeutic after that weekend. It was boring and repetitive, giving him time to just unwind. Coworkers joked in the breakroom, the secretary at the front desk totally wasn’t eying him because he’s not the fittest guy in the office, and his managers weren’t praising him for being a hard worker. Anon wasn’t playing knight. Sir Anonymous didn’t exist here. It was Michael, good ole’ Mike.

He’d listened to the news this morning. There was a segment on the ambush, unsurprisingly. No specifics were given other that someone had died in a suspected gang related activity. Everyone knew exactly what happened even if they didn’t hear it. It was the reason why people didn’t go outside after dark anymore. It just wasn’t safe with the criminals, psychos, and the extraordinary if one believed the rumors.

Michael had done research about it once. The sites he found on the internet needed their own category between the obscure “magic” blogs and white supremacist rant sites. People talking about people with powers. Real powers. Super strength, inhuman reflexes, impossible skills, the whole shebang. There were secondhand stories of drug deals going downhill with no survivors caused by them. Whole gangs just disappearing. Mike had heard some of them before, though he had heard it was just a normal shootout.

Some stories were more bizarre. A government experiment escapes: supposedly an attempt at a supersoldier by the military a couple decades ago, though no one knew what happened after that. One talked about a wizard that communed with the forest to drive people crazy but only if you walked into his forest and no one knew where it was. Mike had stopped reading after that. He was laughing too hard.

He didn’t know what to think now. There was no way any of it could be more than the speculations of crazy people. It as all unfounded. Though he had proof now, didn’t he? At least for some of it? Michael left work that day with more questions than when he went in.

--------------------

The bar was about as packed as a Tuesday night should be, which is to say only a few regulars. It wasn’t the fanciest bar around and had a rundown feeling to it but the booze was cheap and plentiful.

Dusk downed another shot. “Eight, you’re falling behind Anon.”

“Give me a break. I’ve got work tomorrow and I still have to drive.”

“Just call a cab. You just got a big score, right?”

Anon gave a quick look around. “Not that big and that’s not what everyone needs to know so stuff it.”

“That’s what I’ll be telling the waitress tonight. Watch this.”

He called the barmaid over to the table tonight. “Another round of shots. Let’s make it two for tonight.” Dusk clapped her on the ass. She smiled and walked away.

“That’s how you get thrown out,” Anon laughed.

“You know they love it.”

“About as much as they can enjoy a pig. I’ve never met a knight who acted as rambunctious as a naughty squire.”

“I’m insulted, truly.” Dusk said sarcastically while putting on a sad face.

“Last time I owe you a drink.” There was a quiet moment. “Hey, quick question. You ever seen anything weird?”

“What kind of weird?”

“Things that shouldn’t be around kind of weird. Borderline supernatural weird.”

“I once saw a three-legged hobo.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” The barmaid came back with a half dozen shots.

“Anything else? Urban legends or anything?”

“As much as everyone hears. People go—nine—missing, things go missing. Things that just happen. Ten. Why? Think you’re haunted or something?”

“Nah, some guys at work were talking about it. Was wondering if they had any merit.”

“Ha! I’d be more afraid the guys—eleven—the walking over here. Wait, what?”

Anon looked over his shoulder and his heart skipped a beat. Green just limped in with a couple buddies and was beelining for the table to his back. “Dusk, finish your shots. We’re going to walk out in about five minutes. And don’t say anything to me.”

“You got it. Twelve. Thirteen.” He looked at the last drink. “Is that spit? Nasty. Fourteen.” A few more minutes passed. Anon left a fifty on the table, stood up, and left out he back door. Dusk lazily followed behind. The parking lot out back was small with a handful of bikes that weren’t his.

“Dusk, hop on the back. You’re too much of a lightweight to be driving.”

“Shut up.”

The engine started and Green walked out not five seconds after. Anon let down on the throttle and flew out of the parking lot. He looked back, saw them follow him out the parking lot, and took turns to break them off of him. The few people left on the streets scrambled to get out of sight.

“Anon! I don’t think we’re gonna lose them! The bike can’t do this with two people!” Dusk yelled into his ear. Anon knew he was right but like hell he would push it. Minutes passed by like hell. They were catching him and he could only slow down the inevitable. One thing to do.

Anon hit the brakes hard. “Jump and scatter!” Dusk hit the ground rolling but came out of it unscathed more or less. Anon let go of the bike and hit the ground running. He almost ate pavement but bolted between the buildings opposite Dusk. The motorcycle skid across the pavement and came to a stop.

He made it a hundred feet before his pursuers got to where he ditched his bike. It was ducking and weaving through buildings for the next block. Anon found a fire escape and clambered up it. He could hear the motorcycles below him as he got to the top. A quick glance down seven stories. He never liked heights that much. Hiding places were few up here but there were plenty of AC units. The first guy onto the roof waited around for the second guy. They started searching the rooftop. Anon was out of time and space to run.

When the first guy got close enough to him, Anon rushed him. He took the guy down, but man it was hard. He was a lot bigger than Anon thought he would be. The second guy didn’t waste time kick Anon off his partner. This was a fight he could describe later as epic and hard fought. Later, when the bruises healed. They hauled him off the roof and back to their bikes down on the ground. Green was waiting for him.

They threw Anon and the ground and Green motioned his buddies away, “I need to talk to him privately. Don’t worry, he won’t try anything.” They shrugged and walked out of earshot. “Looks like the tables are turned this time around. You got a good one on me last time, in all honesty. You deserve some praise for that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, Sir Anonymous. Sir nobody. Now you will listen to me. Tell me, where is she?”

“Who?”

Green kicked at him with his good leg. “You damn well who!”

“Ow, I never thought I’d be at the mercy of an invalid. Again I have no clue who you’re talking about.”

“Where is Clarissa?” He was starting to grind his teeth.

“Oh yes, the beast. The animal. If only you were more clear the first time. I put it down.” Anon said calmly. “It was the only right thing to do about a rabid animal after all.” He said the last part with some venom.

“Bastard! I’ll kill you!” Green let out another kick but Anon caught it. He managed to get his feet under him and would’ve gone further if Green’s fist hadn’t come down on his head. That stopped him long enough for his buddies to start running over. Another punch came down on his head but he powered through it and lifted Green’s leg off the ground, sending him on his back. The two goonies were about to grab him when a scream came roaring toward them.

Dusk hit the first goonie in the back running like a madman.They went down in a pile of limbs. The second one was caught by surprise and Anon decked him as hard as he could. He turned and brought his foot down Green’s wounded leg. Green screamed.

The second goonie took a swing at Anon, which he ducked and countered with a body shot. This wasn’t where he needed to be. Anon pulled his boot knife, a good eight inch dagger. The goon grabbed at Anon’s wrist to wrestle with the knife. Anon kicked him hard, pushing him back. He went in with the knife and stuck the goon in the stomach. The goon crumpled.

Dusk was struggling against his opponent. The first goon was on top of him and wailing him. That was until Anon’s dagger found him in the back. The blade slipped between his ribs and he collapsed. Anon kicked him off of Dusk before grabbing him. “We’ve got to go.”

The keys were still the bikes so they took them. They split their own ways. Anon hoped Dusk wasn’t too toasted to ride. He took Green’s bike to where he ditched his own. Sure, bikes in this profession were cheap and replaceable but he liked his. Looked like it didn’t even have too much damage and the scratches would make a good story. He was getting ahead of himself though, who knew if it still worked.

He hit the ignition. It worked. Anon let pumped his fist and left Green’s bike where it was.

--------------------

“A deadly shooting left two people dead and another stabbed last night in downtown Port Town. The police have identified two of the victims as known gang affiliates Thomas Horne and Aaron Nelson. No suspects or motives have been identified.”

Anon set down his coffee. The mugshots they showed of the two men were them. Aaron Nelson was Sir Green. Thomas Horne was the goon he’d stabbed in the stomach. Someone had put a bullet in each of their heads, an execution the news had called it. Rightly so. The bodies had been reported two hours after Anon and Dusk had split off. He stepped out of the break room and found an empty hallway.

Dusk picked up his phone, “Hello?”

“You sound rough. It’s Anon, watch the news. Those guys that jumped us yesterday are dead. Executed. That wasn’t you, was it?”

“I got the hell out of there, wasn’t me. I don’t think I could do it.”

“Me neither. Not like that.”

“I don’t think I believe that, Anon. You’d do it if you had to.”

“Shut up, no I wouldn’t.”

“Whatever.” There was a pause. “Hey. Reach out to me if you hear anything else. I’ll do the same for you.”

“Alright, you stay low for a while, at least until this blows over.”

“You too.” Dusk hung up.

Last night wasn’t supposed to be in the news. Those three weren’t supposed to be dead. At least two of them weren’t, the third was still up in the air. Someone had finished them off and Anon hadn’t any idea who. It could’ve been some random junkie or someone with a vendetta. But… But it could’ve been someone else for the same reason Green had come to him. He sincerely hoped it was coincidence. There wasn’t a coincidence between him and Green though. Anon never had a problem with any kind of feud or reoccuring encounters before. He leaned his head against the wall and muttered a curse before heading off to his manager’s office.

He opened the door, “Hey Jim you free right now?”

“No, but what do you need?”

“I need to go home, it’s a personal matter.”

“You called out Monday too, is this related?”

“Yes. It’s a major problem. A death in the family.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss but I can’t let you leave until you finish the report and quotes for that hotel.”

“I’ve already finished them.”

“Alright, you can leave but you’ll need to come in for overtime next week. Just drop them off with Jan on your way out. I wish you the best.”

“Thank you”

--------------------

Anon pulled into the safehouse garage. The radio was on the ground in the kitchen, batteries next to it. He picked it up, set it on the table, and looked around. It looked like it normally did so he moved on. He paused before the bedroom door and listened. Crying. He braced and opened the door.

Clarissa was curled up on the bed. Anon slowly walked toward her and stopped when she noticed him and flinched. “Stay away from me!” She yelled.

“You killed him, didn’t you?!”

“I wouldn’t be here if I did, would I?”

She didn’t have an answer for that. Anon took a few more steps closer and sat down on the edge of the bed near her when she didn’t offer any resistance. He sat there for a few minutes before moving his hand above her shoulder. Why was he hesitating? There was only a wolf woman beside him that he was about to try to comfort.

He set his hand on her shoulder. The guard hairs were course and the fur underneath softer than he expected. “I’m sorry.”

Claire shuddered under his touch but he didn’t move. He just started rubbing her shoulder to soothe her. She quieted down after a few minutes. Anon had no clue what to do, no clue what he could say. So he just started talking.

“When my mother died, my father locked himself away from the world.” Anon said stiffly. “It was my who grandmother took care of me for a while. ‘Everyone comes and goes eventually. So it shouldn’t matter when they come or go but what they did when they were around. The good memories, the bad memories. Whatever they left you is what matters.’ I don’t know if she’s right or not. But I always remembered my best memories of her whenever I missed her and I remember how I felt, how I still feel.”

“I remember when I would help her bake the best oatmeal cookies. And I’d always burn myself trying to eat them before they cooled.” Anon prattled on for the next while. He spoke of pleasant memories, funny memories, a few weird ones. Claire somehow ended up laying on his lap. She wasn’t crying anymore so that was an improvement. He finished and was quiet for a while before Claire spoke up.

“He said he was going to protect me. That he’d be here when I needed him. Th-that...” She was interrupted by her sobbing, the tears had started anew.

“Hush, hush. I’m here now. I’ll be here.” Anon said. What am I getting myself into? He wondered to himself.

--------------------

The next day at work was boring. He couldn’t find himself enjoying the monotony as usual. It just wasn’t the same today. Each form he went through just got more and more annoying. Something was distracting him and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He immersed himself in his work to get rid of it. His first break was ignored. Lunch came and went with a lackluster sandwich he ate at his desk. He couldn’t ignore his afternoon break though. He had to stand up, stretch, do something. Mike took the elevator down and walked out the front door. A stroll around the block would clear his head.

His office building was in “New” Port Town. There wasn’t anything new about it except it was as old as the rest of Port Town. It was still the same packed streets and street vendors as the rest of the place. It wasn’t the same though today. He was bugged even out here. What was it?

Anon reviewed the last week in his head. It all started with that ambush last Friday. And then the ransom. Everything was going normal until... Until she came into the picture. Everyone goes their own way after a ransom, like it never happened except a little bit of money changed hands. But Green had come to him after that. Come to him? Hell, he tracked him down and attempted to extract information from him. Green didn’t get what he wanted though. Green was too emotionally invested to think clearly. Of course the first thing Mike would do is lie but he took the bait off the bat.

If Green had to track him down, that meant Claire was important to him in one way or another. After Green ended up with a bullet in his skull, Anon was more willing to be on “or another.” Whatever he knew he took to the grave with him. But he had to have some evidence or proof of something. Some clue. He was going to check into that later. Tonight, he decided. It shouldn’t be that hard to find out where Green was now that he had a name to work off of.

Michael made it back into his office building and into the elevator. Why did he go out there? He wondered. The distraction was still there. He had just managed to trick it into going away during the walk. “It’ll go away when I figure everything out,” he assured himself.

--------------------

The police cruiser rolled by. Anon knew he only had half an hour or so before it made another round. He had to look through Green’s house before the next round. The problem with these places in Old Port Town was that the big windows in front gave a good view in as well as out. Though that’s how they used to build them though: shop on bottom with the owner living on the upper floor. Now most of them have been remodeled into duplexes.

Anon made his way up the staircase on the side of the building. The door was locked. “Oh well. Go big or go home.” He stepped back and kicked the door near the lock. The frame splintered inward as the deadbolt went through. He reset the lock and closed the door behind him. Hopefully nobody would check it.

Inside was roomier than he thought be, bigger on the inside than he thought. That didn’t excuse the cluttered mess it was though. It dawned on Anon that it wasn’t clutter he looking wasn’t clutter. Someone had already gone through and searched the place. Thoroughly too. The bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen repeated the same scene. They’d beat him to it. Whoever they were.

“Fuck!” Anon yelled as he put his boot through the wall. This was the only place he could think of that tell him what he needed. Or was it? Whoever finished Green would know what they’re looking for. But he didn’t know who they were, where to find them. “Not like they’d tell me anyway.” He said aloud and headed out the door. What a way to spend a Thursday night.

--------------------

Mike breezed through Friday, more or less. Some of his coworkers were not the best, to say the least, and left him with a job quote no one wanted. It was some BS quote with a price way outside the client’s budget that looked like everyone had put their signature on and passed along. He made a photocopy and passed it on to Jan. This could wait until next week when he had overtime. Right now, he just wanted to leave and go home.

Home. Now that was a thought. Going home, inviting someone over and having a few drinks on the couch. Too bad Mike had no social life outside of gang activities. It was all professional and at a distance. Family was out of the question. Did he really not know anyone outside of his fellow knights?

He sank down onto his couch and let out a sigh. “Screw it.” He loaded a pack with some vodka, his sleeping bag, some essentials, and headed down to his truck. If he was going to be alone this weekend then he might as well do something productive. Some good might come of it.

--------------------

He parked in the garage, walked into the safehouse, and set the bags on the table. “Claire?” He called. The bathroom door opened a few moments later and Claire walked out.

“Yes?” She answered.

“I’ll be here for the next while and was wondering if you needed anything.”

“No.”

“No? You’re sure? Also, please call me Anon. I know we haven’t had a formal introduction and I apologize for that. Circumstances called for it.”

“I’m sure… Anon.”

“Alright. Help me unload these groceries.” He said, motioning to the table. “Leave out the beef though, I’m going to make burgers.”

They made quick work of the groceries. It was mostly perishables with a few treats, like a few beers. Anon snagged one for himself while he cooked. “How do you like your meat?”

“Rare, please.”

He pulled out the skillet and went to work on the patties, turning on the heat and adding a bit of salt and pepper to the burgers. Claire was still standing in the kitchen. Anon cleared his throat, “You don’t have to stand there. You could stand about two feet to your left or sit down or find something to do.”

Claire stared at him blankly.

“Here,” he pulled out his boot knife, “wash this and cut some vegetables. We don’t keep knives around so this’ll do.” He held the knife out, proffering it to her. She took it hesitantly. “I put the vegetables in the fridge drawer and there should be plate in the corner cabinet. We’ll have to do without a cutting board.”

Anon opened his beer and went back to cooking his burgers. Claire started washing the knife. No knife in the kidney for me, thank you very much, he thought to himself. How many men had that knife been in? Four? Five? Would that still make it safe for cooking? Guess we’ll find out.

Claire started cutting the vegetables. She started on one end of a tomato and ended up crushing it more than cutting it. “You ever cut a tomato before?” Anon asked.

“...”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Hand me the knife.” Anon took the the knife from her. “The knife isn’t the sharpest but watch. It’s more of a slicing motion, not a pushing motion. Watch.” He got through half the tomato. “Here, give it a try.”

The rest of the vegetable were fine. Though he had to stop her before she cut all of them. There was no way he was going to find something to do with them. The burgers came out nicely. All he had to do was toast the buns and assemble them. Something was missing though.

“I forgot to make fries. Damnit.” Anon said aloud. He looked through the pantry and found some chips. It would do. He put the burgers together. “Buns. Patties. Cheese. Vegies. Mustard and ketchup ketchup ketchup, ah there it is. Garnish with chips. Perfect.” He murmured.

He picked up the two plates and set them on the table before taking a seat. Claire was still standing. “I don’t have to tell you to sit, do I? Come on, eat, relax. I won’t bite.” He started on his burger while she sat down. Watching her eat was quite something, what with the snout and all. It certainly let her take bigger bites. Anon was a fast eater and he was scared of her beating him.

He sat back when he was done and sighed. “How was it? Good, I hope.”

“Yes, very.”

“I’m glad to hear. There’s nothing like a good meal.” There was a pause. “Have you been doing well?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. There’s not much to do here but you’ve been keeping yourself entertained?”

“Yes.”

“This is a very one sided conversation. Don’t you think?”

That caught her up. “I’m glad it’s not,” he continued. “There’s nothing you want to say? Nothing at all?”

She thought for a second. “Why? Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be. Would you rather I not? I can respect that, if you don’t.”

“No. But why? What do you want from me?”

“I want what’s best for both of us. Do you have any family?”

She was starting to get upset.

“It’s not about a ransom at this point, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just need to know somewhere to drop you off. Somewhere you can be safe.”

Claire looked away.

“I’ll let you think it over. I’m going to take a shower and set up my sleeping bag somewhere.” Anon got up and started his nightly routine. He was glad he brought his own toiletries. The ones here sucked. You could tell that is was cheap vs nice. He dried off and put on the sweat bottoms he brought with him.

Claire was still sitting at the table when he walked out. She had her head down on the table. He walked behind her. “You Ok?” He asked.

“Go away.” She said heavily. Short and effective.

“Alright. Goodnight Clarissa.” He turned away. “Oh and you can keep the knife you took. I trust you.”

Anon set up his sleeping bag in the living room. It was empty save for him. He laid awake until he heard Alice retreat to her own quarters. He honestly hope he didn’t make a mistake. It would be a shame to wake up with a knife in his neck. The fact that she was still here was a statement in itself. She could’ve made a run, tripped the alarms, and been halfway across the city before he’d gotten there. The sensors were a joke for the most part, just repurposed burglar sensors set up to a phone network.

Claire also hadn’t fought anything yet. She hadn’t disagreed beyond the initial point even if she was uninformative. Though no one would be talkative if they’d been basically kidnapped. At least he wouldn’t. And that whole deal with Green. They were close. How close, he couldn’t say. Close enough to cry a night or two though.

I’m not getting anywhere, he thought to himself. I need to know what I can get out of this. I need to figure out how to get something. Someone would pay for her. Yeah, that’ll be what I need. I could go somewhere nice. Then everything can be normal. Maybe even quit the gang. Just a little longer. Yeah...

--------------------

Darkness. Spinning points of light. There was no center. Something was pulling him. Somewhere. Sometime. It’s not pulling him. It’s tearing him.

--------------------

Anon woke once during the night. The rest of his sleep was undisturbed. The mid-morning sun woke him up next. He was honestly surprised when he did. There wasn’t anything holding her back last night and he wouldn’t have woken up in time, if at all. He must’ve made the right call. Speaking of calls, Nature was calling him right now.

Breakfast passed quickly after Anon called Claire out of her room. Eggs and toast, nothing special. There was little conversation, all of it one sided with Anon talking about various errands that needed doing. He still needed to buy minor odds and ends before everything sold out for winter. Sure, it was only October but that didn’t mean much with global warming. The last few decades had hit harder than they used to, apparently.

“So, have you thought it over? My question last night?” Anon asked when he was doing the dishes.

Claire took a deep breath. “Yes. And no, I don’t have family.”

“I’m sorry. Mind if I ask?”

“Never had a family.”

Anon paused. “I’m sure that’ll change one day.”

“Maybe…”

He finished the few dishes and sat at the table. “So what am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know. Let me go. Or don’t. Sell me, kill me, who knows?”

“Like I’d do that. I may technically be a criminal, but I don’t kill people. Or I don’t try to. Accidents happen.”

“You seemed ready to when we first met.”

“Well you have to make a point somehow. Would you have given up otherwise?”

“I don’t know. I probably still would have lost.”

“Probably, but it wouldn’t have been as easy.”

Anon got up and walked into the living. He searched through his pack until he found it, then walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass. Claire glared at him as he took his first sip of vodka. “Isn’t it too early to drink?”

“Start early, stop early. You want some?”

“No.”

Anon shrugged. “You’re loss. How old are you anyway?”

“At least one.”

“Har har, very funny. Really, tell me.”

“I wish I could. I don’t remember anything over a year ago. If I had to guess, early 20s?”

Anon took a second to process it and store that bit away. “Uh huh, alright. Only a year? Nothing else, nothing before that? You have an accident or something?”

“Vague memories, no more than impressions. I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“They’re your ghosts, not mine.”

“What about you?”

“Old enough, 22 if you must know. Why do you say early 20s?”

“It just sounds… Right. Feels right. I mean, I feel young but…”

“But?”

“Nothing. Just stupid thoughts.”

“Stupid is in the eyes of the beholder. So you don’t have any memories, any family. What about friends? Hobbies?”

“Aaron, Green, whoever you knew him as was the closest thing I had to a friend. Taught me some swordplay and how to wear armor after he got me a set. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but it felt great to be treated somewhat like a normal person.”

“Sounded like he cared about you.”

“He had a funny way of showing it then. He was always pushing me to be better. He hardly let up whenever we were training. Whenever he had spare time. Afterwards, he would teach me a bit about keeping a sword sharp or polishing armor.” She broke off for a moment. “I guess you were right about memories being important.”

“Just the wisdom of a gnarled old woman. So you were his squire then.”

“Squire?

“Someone who follows a knight around. A knight in training. Did he touch on anything outside of swordplay?”

“Not really.”

“Explains why you’re decent with a sword but don’t know the Code. Not what I would have done.” Anon finished his glass, washed it out, and set it down. “I should let you know that I’ll have to move you pretty soon. This safehouse isn’t permanent, others need to use it eventually. I’ll figure out a place to sit you.” Claire nodded. “It’ll be a more permanent place so you’ll need things. Soap, clothes, and such. I need a list of those things. Unless you have them somewhere, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t have anything anywhere.”

“I didn’t know what to expect from that question. But I’m not surprised. Seems you’ve had a hard life. I’ll get something to write the list on.”

Anon looked around before finding scrap of old paper. He already had a pen, the benefits of working for an accountant. Claire started to write her list and Anon fiddled with his phone. Half an hour passed. “What are you watching?” Claire asked.

“Some episodes from a british comedy. Came out like 50 years ago, I think. Early 80s or something.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s 4 or 5 college students just doing stupid things with their landlord, just trying to figure out how to pay for rent and get rich. A bunch of crazy stuff happens like one of them making a potion that turns people into homicidal axe wielding maniacs and the landlord drinks it.”

“Sounds pretty crazy.”

“Move you chair over here, watch it with me.”

“I’m good. I can hear it from here.”

Anon finished the episode and got up. “I’m going to the store. Everything you need is on that list?”

“Everything I can think of. Weren’t you drinking earlier?”

“I’m fine.” He threw his jacket on, dug his keys out of his pocket, and walked out the door. “See you.”

--------------------

Anon get back and set the bags down. Claire was waiting for him. He handed her one of the bags, “Try these on.” He tossed a bag at her which she caught. She turned away and into the bathroom. Anon took a seat and waited.

Claire walked out when she was done changing. Anon’s almost bulged out of his head. She definitely looked feminine than he remembered. Her waist was just the right size and her thighs looked like they could strike a man dead. There was little if any fat to them. He caught his gaze and brought it up to her face. But not without taking in the rest of her. Her stomach was flat, her chest not the biggest but complementing of figure. The collar of her shirt was low enough to let a little bit of fur poof out. Her shorts hugged her figure, unlike the sweats she wore.

Anon blinked a few times to stop staring and cleared his mind. Where’s your chivalry, man? He thought. “I assume they fit quite well?”

“A tiny bit tight, but nothing that can’t be dealt with. I need to cut a whole for my tail though.” Claire did a littler turn and motioned down the side of her leg. There was a lump running up and down it. Anon couldn’t help but not take a look. That was a shapely bottom, he had to say at the least.

“Indeed. I can fix that later, I’ve got a sewing machine.”

“Oh? For what?”

“A-uh... A knight learns to take care of his equipment. If a gambeson tears or a piece of leather harness breaks, you have to know how fix it.”

“Makes sense.”

Anon cleared his throat. “There’s still a sticker on the shorts.” He pointed in her direction.

“Oh,” she searched for 20 seconds or so before finding it. Anon quelled his internal struggle. She was still a wolf, after all. She was still different, no matter what she like. Still just a dog, yeah, a smart one.

“Take a look at the rest of the stuff. See if it works.”

Claire went through the bags, looking at all the different bottles and brushes, the other items that Anon thought he’d never be buying for a woman. That was an interesting experience. He looked up at Claire, who gave an approving nod. “That’s everything.”

“Good, I’ll get started on lunch and make some sandwiches.” Anon pulled out a pack of bacon from the fridge and the rest of the vegetables. He fried it up and put together some BLTs. They were good, like all the food he made. The plus side of being a good cook.

“Gonna take a nap.” He told her before heading off to his sleeping bag. He lay in that state between consciousness and sleep for a while, but he eventually fell asleep. It always disappointed him when couldn’t remember any dreams. He woke up and checked the time, still a few hours before he could cook dinner. Anon read one of the books on his phone to pass the time.

He glanced at the time, sighed, and got up. The sun had just about set by then. He washed his hands and started prepping dinner. It was baked chicken breast and potatoes. Preheat the oven, slap some seasonings on the food, stick it in the oven, and set the timer. I should’ve gotten some green beans or something, he thought to himself. Too late late.

Claire came out of the bedroom. “What are you making?”

“Chicken and potatoes. How’d you kno-” Anon caught himself. “Nevermind. It’s the nose, huh? Works well I bet.”

“Well enough.” She took her seat and the waited until dinner was finished cooking. Anon served it and they ate. He got up and started on the dishes.

“Tell me about yourself, Claire. What were you before you met Green?”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“What did you do, where did you live? That kind of thing.”

She took a long second before thoughtfully responding. “I lived in the alleys, in the dark. I figured out that people didn’t like seeing me so I wasn’t seen.”

“But you were seen. By Green. How’d that happen?”

“He was chasing someone and crashed into the dumpster I happened to be in. I almost got away but I guess that armor wasn’t as heavy as I thought it was at the time. It just went from there.”

“Yeah? Where did it go? As far as a squire, roommate? I’m curious if you don’t mind.”

“He pretty much did the same thing as you. Stick me in a house somewhere and tell me not to leave. I tried once and it didn’t end well. He told me I had spirit and he started training me. It was bad at first, but it got better.”

“That’s it? You just started training?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want it at first but it just became my life and I figured that it was something I could do.”

Something twitched in Anon’s mind. “Wait, he didn’t ask? That’s not right. Not at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t just train someone as a squire, there’s procedures.” His voice dropped low, filled with anger. “It’s a mutual thing: the squire asks and the knight answers. Or vice versa. It’s an agreement, not something you just force upon someone because whether we admit it or not, we’re criminals. We pillage and murder and sell things. You don’t bring someone into that without them knowing what they’re getting into.”

“Oh.” Her voice was mixed with surprise, fear, and a smidgin of disappointment?

Anon unclenched his fist. “It’s nothing you did, but it’s not something Green should’ve done. It was wrong. I could go on but I’d be ranting at that point. I hate ranting. Just give me a moment.”

He tried to clear his head but he just couldn’t. “Clarissa, I bid you a good night.” He got up and went to his bedding, taking a seat on it and watching Claire go to her own area.

Eventually Anon cooled down. It didn’t take long at all, he was in control here with his emotions. Totally, for sure. It was his mind after all. He should be dealing with this problem like a man. Like a knight. He’d fix it. He’d come up with a plan, at least for the next little while. He fell asleep thinking about that.

--------------------

It was after breakfast and after he’d told Claire to pack her few things. “Keep that hoodie up and you muzzle or snout or whatever hidden. We’re going to the next place.” She put the bags in the front seat of his truck.

“Where would that be?”

“Where will it be? You tell me.”

“What?”

“You tell me. We can go anywhere.”

One of her ears flicked.

“And I rescind my vow of hospitality. You won’t be needing it anymore, seeing as you are no longer my guest.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Wha...”

“I’ll say this as simply as I can. You’re free. I’ll drop you off somewhere. Hop in the truck and keep your head down.”

Anon started his truck and started down the road. Claire kept her head down for the most part, occasionally looking at where they were. Suburbs turned into city blocks as they kept driving. The radio was on a classic rock station. Anon broke the silence.

“So where are we going?”

“Drop me off up here, behind one of those buildings.”

Anon pulled behind them and turned off the engine. “Anything special here?”

“Nope.” Claire opened the door and paused. “Thank you for not killing me.” She got out of the car.

“Claire, wait. If you need something, anything, then call this number.” Anon leaned over with a piece of paper in his hand. “And take the backpack too. I don’t need it.”

She took the paper and bag then looked at him. “Why?”

“I’ll always help someone down on their luck if they deserve it.”

The door thumped shut. Anon started his engine. He looked through his mirror one last time. Claire was looking at the small piece of paper in her hand as if it wasn’t real.

--------------------

He parked his truck and got out. It was going to be a long week, no sense in delaying it. He went into his home and sat down to unwind for a few minutes. Only a few minutes before he got up to grab one of his burner phones. He dialed a number from his contact book. It was useful to have when you had oh so many phones. It rang several time before someone answered. “Steve.”

It was a pseudonym, Steve. Anon had no clue how many of them he had, but no one knew who Steve was so it either had to be a lot or it was random, but he was a good contact for anything black market. Anon started, “I’ve got something I need to sell, live. You do that?”

“Yeah, I can work with just about anything. What is it?”

“A dog, female, no breed. About 130 lbs and 5’10” at the head. Well groomed, black hair. Well trained, practically takes care of herself.”

“A dog, huh? What kind of buyer we looking for? Pimp, trafficker, luxury?”

“No, I’m looking for things out of the way. Weirdos, cults, gypsies, practitioners of the arcane, government officials even. This is a really special dog.”

“Alright then. Price range?”

Anon thought about it for a second. “Let’s go with 150k to start.”

“Must be quite the special dog.”

“She is.”

“Is this number good?”

“Yep.”

“You want to attach a name to any of this?”

“No, I’m Anonymous.”

“You got it. I’ll call it when I’ve got something. Typical fee.”

“Alright, that’s fine.” The line went dead. “Lucrative bastard.”

Who knew when that deal would come through. It was such an odd thing to throw out there, but that’s what he thought not so long ago. Things moved quicker than they usually do when people want things and slower when nobody wants anything. Anon went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and started on a old treatise on swordplay.

The rest of the week passed as usual; work, a few trips here and there to get things, settle down with a good book. Thursday is when things changed. Steve called during work and left a message with what he had. There was a location, time, and some clients. They were “out of state realtors” for all the good that did. The deal was going to go down the next night in a warehouse that was usually for rent most of the year. That gave him something to work with.

--------------------

Anon turned off his motorcycle. “So tell me again why we have a dead dog?” Dusk asked.

“You got me there too,” Sir Gideon chimed in.

“If you two have know, I promised to sell a dog. I don’t have a dog. Hence why we stopped at that animal shelter. Don’t know how they keep it hidden, but that’s a shady ass shelter.”

“You tell me. We’ll be right here if you need us.” Gideon tossed the bundle of carpet at Anon. He dodged it and it hit the ground.

“Watch it. That thing’s heavy.” Anon got his hands under it and hefted it over his shoulder before opening the door to the warehouse. The security door slammed shut behind him, leaving him in the gloom of the warehouse. There were only a few lights on out of the dozens that filled the air above him.

A pair of men waited for him in the middle of the floor. Anon approached them and stopped about with a fair distance between them. He let the bundle fall to the floor where it unrolled. “You the realtors from uhh… Where was it? Vermont?”

They looked at the body, then studied him. “Close enough.” Said the one on the left, a bit more broad of shoulder than the other one. “That’s the ‘dog’?” He pointed at it.

“Yep.”

“So you want 150 thousand dollars for a dead dog?”

“Yep.” Anon was glad his helmet hid his smirk.

“So you do or don’t know about the real dog here?”

“There’s a thing as a fake dog?”

They started to converse among themselves in harsh whispers. It was really getting heated. Anon started to pace. He started taking account of his surroundings when they broke off.

“Alright shiny guy, you’re going to answer some questions. I’m gonna speak slowly so we know where we’re at. Where. Is. It.” The skinnier of the two pulled out a handgun.

“Where is what? The dog for which you asked lies here on the floor.”

“The Other dog.”

“Oh! Yes, you mean THAT dog. Yeah. Uh huh. Alright. It was six foot under last time I saw. In a back alley with three other guys and a bullet in it’s head.”

The man scowled. “I don’t have to listen to this shit.” He turned to his partner and nodded.

Anon dove as far as he could to the nearest crate for cover. He didn’t quite make it and scrambled the last few feet. Bullets smashed the concrete floor around him. He scrambled for his own gun that was tucked under his armor. More rounds came crashing through the crate at random places. He flicked the safety and fired it in their direction. The realtors had moved to behind a forklift, one on each sided. Anon took a few shots at the big fuel tank on the back. Propane spewed from the rupture and onto one of them. He stumbled back and Anon took a put a few shots into him. The bigger realtor put a shot into his partner and took a run further into the warehouse, firing on the move.

Anon heard armor clattering behind him as Gideon and Dusk ran up to him. “Jesus, what did you get into?” Gideon let out.

“Usual. One down, one ran further in. Maybe more back there.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here then.”

“Yeah man.” Dusk agreed.

“Can’t, it’s us or them.” Anon got up to follow the realtor.

“Hold on a moment, you suicidal?”

“These guys don’t leave you alone if they know who you are. They’ve already killed three Cuthberts.”

“Fuck. Fuck fuck. Alright, but you owe me.” Gideon followed him, brandishing a mini uzi. Dusk muttered a few curses under his breath, picked up the dead man’s gun and a new magazine, and ran after them..

Crates passed on either side. Shadows coming and going under the sparse lights. A door slammed up ahead. They turned around a stack crates to one of the exits to the loading area. Anon burst out the door, into the night, and catching several men getting into an SUV. A few moved to take cover as it took off. An automatic sounded behind him as Gideon opened into the vehicle until he ran dry. Anon fired at the remaining men. One went down before he got anywhere. Dusk moved out the door opposite of Anon, firing the few bullets his gun had left, and taking cover to reload.

Anon ducked his head down to reload. This wasn’t good. Firefights weren’t his forte. His slide snapped closed. Gideon fired again and another went down. The last man took a run for it, ducking between the crates. Dusk ran after him. Anon sat for a few moments and just listened, waited. It was quiet. He poked his head up over the barrier he was behind. No one shot at him. It was almost a relief. He let out a string of curses.

Gideon approached him. “Still alive. I don’t get into shootouts. Too many people die and you’re lucky to get unscathed. You never mentioned anything about this. You owe me, damnit.”

“You sound angry, Gideon.” Anon said calmly. “I’d be happy if I were you. And we’re unscathed. All it gonna costed you was some ammo. Not that expensive, right?”

“Too expensive still. The only reason I’m still here is those Cuthberts.”

“If you say. I think you’re here because you’re in love with me. You never told me you were packin so much. I think I need one.”

“You wish. And like you would tell me if you were packin. They don’t make these beauties anymore, you know? And good luck finding one; a pretty price if you do.”

“Huh, like how much?”

“Like upwards of a car. I’m leaving. I’ll wait by my motorcycle for a few minutes in case anyone shows up.” Gideon turned back through the door.

Anon let out a sigh. This was going to be expensive to clean up. The forensics, the bribes, the bodies. The Couriers were about to get a good payday if they didn’t bankrupt him. He waited a few minutes in a shadow of a shipping crate before he saw Dusk return. He stepped out and called him over. “Gideon’s sitting over by the motorcycles. Go join him, I’ll take care of the rest of this.” He nodded and left.

Anon started with a call to the Couriers, giving them the necessary details. The price tag they gave him hurt his soul. He went through the pockets of the two guys by the loading docks. They only had some magazines, wallets, and a few hundred dollars. He made his way back to the guy in the warehouse. His lucky break was in his jacket: a couple thick rolls of $100 bills. Each one would be enough to pay the couriers.

A phone rang.

--------------------

Claire looked down at the paper he had given her. Why did he let her go? Why did he give her this? These things? This pack, these clothes, none of them would be hers otherwise. Why? It always boiled down to that didn’t it? Why this? Why that? Jus-

She shook her head clear of the thoughts and looked at Anon’s truck as it turned out of sight. She turned and walked further between the buildings before finding a clean looking cubby and sitting down in it. It was broad daylight, she couldn’t risk walking around. Her eyes trailed to the backpack he had given her. It was a simple black backpack that looked empty if not for the weight it had. The contents turned out to be a few cans of food and the bottle of vodka Anon had brought.

Her eyes flicked over her claws. She should have clipped them while she still had the chance. She wasn’t far from a grocery and she could get some things she would need from there. Then there was another hidey hole she had not far from there. Her eyes began to drift shut. She could maybe even spend a day in a drain somewhere if it didn’t rain. Would be a shame if the rat people got her though. Rat people? Yeah, rat people. The ones who lived in the sewers and would eat you if they got their hands on you. She’d smelled one once, she swore it wasn’t just the stink of the sewer. But maybe that was a dream? Dream?

Claire’s eyes snapped open. She quickly looked around. No one still. She shifted onto her back and stared at the sky. It had to be just past noon from the look of it. A cloud lazily drifted through her view, a small one shaped like a car maybe. She’d ridden in a car today. That was something. She had only ever done that a handle full of times: Green’s car, a few motorcycle lessons, and now Anon’s car. A car convenience for sure but a motorcycle, though, was really an amazing thing. The wind flowing through her hair, her nose taking in all the scents as they passed.

She moved onto her side and closed her eyes again. The dreams took her wondering through an alien landscape. She drifted in a sea of strange shapes for a while before waking again. Some jack off was honking his horn not too far away. The sun had gone down but it wasn’t quite dark enough for the streets to clear. Claire waited another hour or so before getting up.

She peaked out of the cubby and waited. No sign of anyone. She didn’t blame them. She didn’t like being out either. It was dangerous if you didn’t know what you were doing. Someone would rob you or you’d end up in the middle of a gang fight or drug deal. It’d happened to her before. She took on deep breath and strode out into street, avoiding the lights and moving between buildings.

The grocery was just ahead of her. She walked around the back and found the dumpster. It was locked but that wasn’t much of an obstacle for a well placed brick. Some more cans of food and some drinks for her stash. At least they didn’t purposely ruin everything they threw away. She left before someone came looking around.

Her next stop was the nearby hidey hole she knew about. She heard noise up ahead. People were talking. She gave them a wide berth and continued on. The place she was looking for was an old basement that someone must have closed off and forgotten about. The only way in was through a small hole hidden behind a set of pipes in an already cramped alleyway. She’d only found it when she was trying to find a way up to a roof and accidentally put her hand through the wall. It was almost completely empty except for some debris. Nobody had been there since she was last in there. No new sights or smells. The same dripping pipe outside that nobody would ever fix.

She set her things down in the corner. Her stomach had started to growl on her way to the store. She dug out a can of soup she had taken and a bottle of water. Her claws rapped on the side of the can as she thought about how to open it before settling on the dagger Anon had given her. It wouldn’t do the blade any good, but the handguard would do it. She levered it through the top of the can twice and started to drink it. Her stomach settled and she opened up the bottle of water. She quenched her thirst and went to work organizing her bag. It didn’t take long at all.

It had only been a couple hours since she had started the night. There wasn’t much else for her to do. She had food, water, shelter. Only the creature comforts were missing. Home sweet home for now.

--------------------

The grocery dumpster was off. The lock was replaced and it looked normal enough. But it just wasn’t. Her hackles rose and wouldn’t go back down. It took her a minute of sniffing around before she found it. Someone was waiting nearby just waiting; well hidden too. Of course she couldn’t hit the same place two nights in a row. She slunk back into the shadows and moved on. There were other places to look.

Each dumpster was only a little different from the last: trash bags, boxes, a few pieces of furniture, whatever made the sludge in the bottom. Just the way the size of the can or the arrangement of trash. A growl from behind her. Her ears went down and she dropped from the side of the dumpster. She spun around, eyes snapping to the source. A stray dog. A nasty looking one at that. Claire bared her teeth and started her own growl. She raised her arms and stood tall. It didn’t want to back down still. The dog continued to approach. She let her growl rise into a mighty bark. It took the dog by surprise and it bolted away, tail between its legs. That bark too her a little by surprise too. She must have gotten it down finally. It was never that good before.

She looked back to the dumpster and shut the lid. “Just my luck,” she sighed. Two problems in one night and still nothing good. It was almost getting light. She had to head back or she’d be caught in morning traffic. It wasn’t too far of a distance and there were a few more places she could check on the way back. She kicked a trash bag, hitting something hard. Opening the bag revealed a dented pot. It still held water so that was a lucky find. She tucked that away and continued on her way back. The sky was just starting to brighten and the first cars were on the road when she got back.

She took a seat against a wall and pulled her knees into her chest. She let took a deep breath and let herself relax, falling to her side with the backpack as a pillow. Dreams took her, only to be interrupted by her shifting. Concrete is an unforgiving bed.

Claire woke up tired but rested, joints popping as she stretched. The sun was still up but it was low in the sky. All she had to do was wait around for it to be gone. Then she could just live life like an almost normal person. As long as nobody saw her. It didn’t matter much that she wasn’t normal if nobody important saw her.

The sky stopped darkening. She grabbed the pot and headed outside. The was a spigot nearby. The water wasn’t good for drinking but it had other uses. She set down the pot after cleaning it and started collecting bricks for a firepit. A sheet of metal would do for a grill and there were plenty of pallets for. Just tear off and strip down a power cord for a starter. Find a place to plug it in and instant fire. The pit was closer to the door to keep the smoke ventilated.

Once the water started to boil, she began to strip down. She would definitely admit that her new clothes fit a lot better than the castoffs she used to wear. The pants weren’t too big, underwear didn’t ride up to and rub the base of her tail, she had a bra now. The towel she’d take from the safehouse or whatever he’d called it was a luxury she hadn’t had.

Once the water was hot enough, she moved it off the fire. She’d wet the towel and start wetting the fur on one of her limbs, then apply shampoo and wash it off. She worked slowly and methodically from her arms to her head to her chest and back before finally getting to her legs. Her fur could dry in the warm air of the fire.

Claire looked at her herself, her body, her reflection in the dirty water. Was she attractive? She had seen plenty of magazines, even read a few. If that was what attractive women was supposed to look like, then she might actually be good looking. She looked a bit like the slimmer ones at least. She wasn’t fat for sure but she had filled out with muscle since the last she really cared to check. The training had done her some good there. But who would find her attractive? She was different from all the others. The only one like hre as far as she knew.

Her fur was dry. She picked up the cooling pot and dumped it outside. She didn’t bother to dress, she didn’t feel the nip in the air through her coat. Filling it with more water, she put it back onto the fire and started on her clothes. It didn’t get as clean as a washer but the leathery pads on her hands worked well for scrubbing. If she didn’t at least attempt to wash the every few days then she would start to get tangles and mats would form. When she was done she started to work her brush through her fur. Was she starting to get a winter coat? It was that time of the year.

She put her clothes back on and started out for the night.

--------------------

The night was boring. She’d already found what she needed for the next few days. Definitely better than the last two nights. Tomorrow night would be treat night if she could find anything. There was the alcohol Anon had left with her but she didn’t drink, never had before. The thought of getting dizzy and pissing herself never appealed to her. She started on her way back to her hole in the wall, laughing at herself. “Hole in the wall. Good one.”

It was colder tonight and Claire’s breath left a heavy cloud in the air. It would definitely freeze over tonight. It was earlier than the last year. Maybe it was going to be worse too. She had no way to tell, she had only seen winter once before. She certainly hoped it wouldn’t be worse. The last was hard enough. It would be better this year, it-

Claire’s ear twitched. Something was moving behind her. She turned around and started moving cautiously, hugging the walls and looking for cover. Two men rounded the corner and Claire made for a corner of a building that stuck into the alleyway. They were coming in her direction. She pulled her hood down and hugged the shadows. They wouldn’t see her.

They passed and she left when they were far enough away. She had almost made it out of sight when one of them must have turned around and said something along the lines of, “Is that it?” Claire bolted and turned the corner. They had seen her and were following. She turned at random to confuse them. The one thing Port Town never did when it was modernizing was fix the labyrinth of paths through the city. She knew this area well but not apparently well enough. She had turned into a dead end.

The two men were still following, she could hear them. There was no way out. No pipes sturdy enough to climb, no fire escapes, nowhere to hide. They rounded the corner. One of them was holding a baton, the other a pistol. They were breathing heavily and approached slowly. This is it, she thought to herself. But like hell I’m not going down without a fight. She drew his—no, her dagger. The man raised his pistol and fired. There wasn’t a loud bang like she was expecting and she only felt a pair of pricks before her body erupted into fire. Her body seized up and fell over. The man with the baton quickly cuffed her while she was trying to regain control of her body.

Claire started to struggle but there was a sharp pain to the back of her head.

--------------------

She was being jostled. Or carried. Yeah, carried. That was it. She remembered where she was and struggled to remain limp. It wouldn’t help to struggle now, she had to save her strength. Her feet were cuffed too now. A few moments later, she was dropped onto something hard but with a little give. It was metal, probably the back of a truck or something. Claire didn’t dare open her eyes for fear of giving away her only advantage. She heard someone dialing a phone.

“It’s Jonas. I’ve got that package you wanted... Yeah, I’m sure it’s the one... A change in the drop location? Whatever... Look, I do-”

“Now looky here.” The second guy started to say, cutting off what Claire could hear. “What ugly thing birthed this?”

“That was the agreed upon price...”

“Werewolves like you ain’t supposed to be real, they say. Damn well just proved them wrong.” Damnit, she couldn’t hear the guy on the phone over this guy. If only she could know who the hell these guys were.

“Alright. See you there then.” He hung up the phone. “Hey Jer! Get away from the thing.”

“Oh come on, it’s out for good.” Jer started to lean down. Claire could feel him getting closer. “Just take a good look at the chompers on this sonofabi-” Teeth flashed and sank into flesh. Claire tasted blood, a lot of blood, and felt something crunch. He started to weakly struggle. The other guy was yelling. She held her grip until something hit her hard in the chest and she fell.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god. Jer! Just hold on. Please. God damnit! Just hang on!” He was crying. There was a disgusting gurgling sound. Claire couldn’t see from where she was on the ground. The gurgling stopped and the crying got louder. It descended into sniffles after a few minutes and he got up and started towards her. Oh how she wished she could run right now.

“You fucking bitch!” He slammed his foot into her ribs and she let out a yip.

“You-” A kick.

“Killed-” A harder kick.

“Jer-” He kicked her in the head.

--------------------

Oh god, did her body hurt. It hurt so bad. She wanted to puke. There were voices. She could barely make out what they said.

“Not worth my fucking time, the thing killed my partner. I want double the price.”

“Woah, woah.” That voice was so familiar. “That’s not what we agreed to.”

“This wasn’t what I agreed to. Either you pay up or you lose out. Someone will pay for this.”

“Alright, fine. Now double is a hefty...” Claire started to fade out. A scuffle brought her to. There was a scream that lasted a few seconds before it abruptly ended. Someone got up off the ground, and the sound of clanking metal approached her. She flinched and whined involuntarily.

“Hey now, I’ve got you.” That voice. A hand came down softly on her arm and she relaxed. “There we go.” He moved to unlock the cuffs. She only realized how much they were biting into her when they were off. “Now come on, gently.” Her vision was blurry and wouldn’t stay still. They helped her to her feet and led her away. “You really don’t look good. Sit down here.” An engine started and she was enwrapped by an arm. She started to nod off again but was nudged awake. “Don’t fall asleep,” something told her. All she could smell was gas, metal, blood, and gunpowder. She tried to open her eyes but fell unconscious again.

--------------------

Weightless swirling. Faster. Faster. Faster. Claire’s eyes shot open. ‘Too bright! Too bright!’ They screamed. Her arm moved, waves of pain were sent through her body. That awakened the rest of her body. Whole patches of skin stung, others were a deep seated throb in time with her heartbeat. A breath turned into a sharp pain, a pain that turned into her whimpering as much as she could breathe. Her surroundings slowly started making more sense. The spinning slowed, the light dimmed. She was on a couch in a living room. The lights were on. A coffee table in front of her, TV and entertainment center sat on the other side of the room.

Claire barely noticed the chair scraping the floor. Her attention was caught by the footsteps though. She slowly craned her head in that direction. ‘Him. Why... is he here?’ He took a knee by her side. “How well can you hear me?”

Anon. She was too confused. She stared at him for a moment, collecting her words. “I... Yea...”

“Alright. Look at me. Listen. You’re hurt. Nothing too major, as far as I can tell, but he messed you up pretty bad. You have a concussion and I relocated your shoulder. I was amazed you didn’t make a sound. There might be a cracked rib, deep bruising at the least. I’m calling a doctor in the morning. Do you understand?”

Fur started to raise on her neck, she started to bring her arm up but stopped. “No,” she whispered.

“What?”

“No. No doctors.”

Anon sat back. “What? Why?”

“I don’t trust them... They’ll want to look more.” She said weakly.

“Claire.” He paused. “There’s things I can’t see. There could be more there that I would miss. There—If there’s something is wrong, I can’t help.”

“No doctors, please.” She locked eyes with him. “Please.”

Anon sighed. “Ok.”

He got up and Claire’s eyes followed him into the kitchen. “I’m getting some water and some ibuprofen. It’s the only thing I’ve got right now but it should help.” A cupboard closed, the sink turned on and off, then he returned. He handed the glass and pill to her, which she took it with her other arm. “Small sips.”

It was awkward because she couldn’t hold the cup still. The first small gulp was the worst. The next wasn’t so bad. The four pills went down one at a time. About a quarter of the cup was gone when she handed it back to Anon. He set it aside. “Let’s get you into a bed. I’ve got work in a few hours” He offered his hand. She took it and he carefully helped her up off the couch, supporting her as they walked down a hall and past 2 other doors. The door banged open to a dark room. Anon helped her onto the bed. The pillow was soft. It smelled too. In fact this whole place had a smell to it behind the smells of blood.

“Anon?” She asked as he walked out.

“Yes?”

“What smells like blood?”

“That’s probably your nose.”

“Is this your house?”

He thought for a second. “And if it is?” He said before closing the door.

Claire laid there in the bed. The room was still spinning a little but not nearly as much as when she first woke up. It wasn’t long before she noticed her body didn’t hurt as much. It didn’t protest when she made small movements. She listened to the sounds of the house, the wind outside lulling her. The sound of a door broke it momentarily. Light was starting to peek through the curtains.

The light was brighter now and she was starting to bake. She readied herself to move and lifted the covers up. Shaky legs made getting up was a challenge. There was a note on the door:

‘Help yourself to the fridge. Ibu is on the table, don’t take take before noon and no more than 4.’

The hallway was unremarkable, bland with two other doors. One slightly was across the hall and the other closer to the living room. The living room looked like the same as last night, The kitchen had a small dining area attached to it with a table and set of chairs. She found the bottle of ibuprofen there and popped the top off, dumping a few in her hand. The glass was still on the coffee table so she finished that with the pills before resting on the couch. That walk took more out of her than she thought. There were pangs in her joints that calmed down.

She fell asleep again to be woken but lock on the front door being shook and cursing. It opened, “–replace the lock but the damn office won’t do it.” Anon sighed and emptied his pockets onto a table next to the door. He paused taking his tie off, “Oh hey. You’re up.” He finished and sat down on the coffee table. “Feeling better?”

Claire took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Are you dizzy? Any trouble breathing?”

“Not as much. I am a little short of breath.”

“That’s good. I was worried that I shouldn’t have let you sleep with that concussion. But there was no way to keep you awake.” Anon stood up, “I’m going to start dinner. You can turn the TV on if you want.”

“No, I’m good.”

She watched him prepare dinner. It was amazing to her how he turned something so simple into entertainment. He minced and fried vegetables, flipping them in the air before cooking up two pork chops. He set the table and called Claire over. The food smelled good while it was cooking but the taste put that to shame. “Anon, why is this so good?” She wolfed down the rest of her plate.

“It’s just some spices, somewhat fresh ingredients. Not that hard once you know how.” He ate at a slower pace. Claire couldn’t help but fidget over her empty plate, Anon was watching her. What unnerved her wasn’t the stare, it was how he stared. She couldn’t put her finger on it but gears were turning behind those eyes. They were a shade of lighter shade of brown that caught light and threw it back out. She couldn’t pin them down after that as anything other than average in shape, the kind of average that you’d never notice in a crowd.

Anon cleared his throat, making her jump. “Can I help you?”

Claire’s ears started to burn. “Uh n-no, I’m fine.”

“I’m not sure you understood me.” He said slowly, “Can I help you? There’s people after you, you know that?”

There were, she knew it. Or there had been. There had been a few scuffles during the spring, but they were inconsistent and usually with drunks. But once... Chills rolled down her back. Twice someone had found her now. Blind luck let her get away the first time in the spring, a slip through the opening of 3 thugs with pipes. They followed her for days before she shook them on the other side of town. Apparently they were hired to track her down. If Anon hadn’t shown up, who know where she could be. If Anon hadn’t—

 Her heart dropped further than she thought possible. “Wait.”

“What?”

“How did you know where I was?” She was unconsciously tensing body, ready to spring for the door. There was a cramp in her stomach.

“Oh, that.” Anon laughed, “Quite the story right there.” That single laugh had managed to disarm most of her worry. How did he do that? “I was actually looking for you, had a feeling that I was in over my head. That someone somewhere was up to something. So I put an add out for a stray dog with a contact I know who spread it around.” Her eyes went wide. “Hold on, that’s not how I should have put it. I wasn’t the one who hired those guys.”

“Then who did?” She asked sharply.

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t me. I just happened to be meeting a guy about it when he got a call. Or rather what was left of his partner got the call. I happened to pick it up and I came as quick as I could.”

Claire shook her head a little. It was all just too convenient. The story added up as far as she could tell. But it was just too unlikely to be true. ‘Lies’ one part told her. ‘He’s playing with you.’ said another. ‘Could you get away?’

“You don’t believe me do you?” His voice dropped a little quieter. “I understand. It’s difficult to believe and there’s probably not much I could say to convince you. But take one moment to consider. Please.”

He sounded so earnest it shocked her. She sat the a moment. There was no way he didn’t send them. The timing was too perfect. He knew too much. No one is this nice. Out of everythi— She looked around. ‘What if?’

“I believe you.” Her words sounded empty to herself.

“Claire. I have a question. Would you stay with me? As my squire? The term sounds odd to say the least, but I’m not sure what else I can do. I want to help you. You’ll have a bed and meal. It won’t be easy at times but it’s something.”

“Ok. Yes, I’ll do it.”

--------------------

Anon pushed the door open. “Rise and shine!” He called out. “It’s a beautiful Saturday morning and breakfast is gonna get cold.”

The bundle blankets twitched, went into a stretch, and groaned. “What time is it?”

He looked at his imaginary watch, “About 8am. Food is in the kitchen so get dressed.” He said as he turned and walked away. His plate was already made and on the table. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. A hearty breakfast. He buttered his pancake and wrapped it around the rest of his breakfast. ‘Just like a taco,’ he mused to himself.

The room to the second bedroom is his apartment opened, the one he’d set up a cot for Claire in. He had to rearrange half the house to clear the room. His little work area had to go but there was a folding table with a chair and a dresser. It wasn’t much, really. It would do though.

Claire walked out. She was in yet another pair of sweats he had graciously provided. “He finished chewing, “Help yourself to what’s left. Plates are in the cupboard on left, silverware in the drawer next to the stove.” She sat down with her plate and started eating. Anon watched as she ate. ‘Note, table manners. That’ll be a lesson eventually.’

He finished his breakfast taco. “How are you feeling? How’s the bruising? Your head?”

“Stiff and sore, black and blue, dazed and confused. Those are sayings, right? Maybe not dazed and confused, but it’s a headache.” She said with a full mouth.

“That’s good? Not bad, at least. Not seeing anything and nothing is spinning? And don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

She swallowed her food. “No, not seeing anything.”

“Good. Take two ibuprofen when you’re done. Then wash your plate off in the sink. I’d like to start some lessons today.”

Claire nodded. She finished her food and got up to wash her plate. “So you said you don’t remember anything before last year, right?”

“Something like that,” she said quietly

“Do you have an education?”

She looked at him, head cocked to one side.

“An education. Did you go to school?”

“No.”

“What about self taught? How well do you know history? Math? I assume you can read and write?”

“Anon...” She stood silently, bowing her head. “I don’t know anything. I can read, maybe write. But I never exactly had time to learn.”

Anon mulled it over. It only made sense but it was hard to believe. “What did Green teach you?” He asked.

“Swordplay, armor, how to ride a motorcycle.”

“Certainly explains why you’re so good with a sword. Spend a few months focusing on it and that happens. Alright. Just another thing we can remedy.” He sighed.

Anon stood up and went into his room. He started going through his bookcase. The large textbooks were easy to spot. Why he still had them, he couldn’t say, but now he was glad he’d snagged them back in highschool. His mentor had ingrained the importance of education in him. It also helped that he’d get his head pushed in if he failed any classes. He picked out three of the smaller, easier ones, a blank notepad, and took them back out to the table. Claire was waiting for him.

“What are those?” She asked.

“Books. We’ll start with lessons today, more later.” He sat down and flipped open one of the textbooks. It was on English, the basics of the writing. He read over some of the text and looked up. ‘I have no clue what I’m doing.’ He cleared his throat. “Let’s start with some writing practice. Start with the alphabet then letters.”

Anon set the notepad and a pen in front of her. Claire looked at it skeptically before slowly picking it up. She pinched it tightly between her forefinger and thumb. The pen shook a little as he watched her slowly write letters in a seemingly random order. Some minutes later, she stopped when she was done and looked up to him. Her eyes were a shade of hazel he noticed for the first time. They pleaded with him. ‘I can’t do this,’ they seemed to say.

He smiled and asked softly, “Is that what you can remember?”

“Yeah,” she said faintly.

“Alright, that’s good. Let’s move on to numbers.” He spoke reassuringly. She began on the numbers, this time with a little more confidence. They were better written and in order. He stopped her at 10. “That’s great. I’ll show you what you did wrong and we can try again.”

--------------------

Claire had gotten better. They hadn’t done much Sunday. “That’s a rest day. It’s so you don’t overload yourself,” Anon explained. The week was slow and easy. Her penmanship wasn’t blocky and atrocious, it would get better with time, and she knew the alphabet. They had read a few short stories together. Her comprehension for language was improving as well. He had given her a journal to practice and write in. He hoped she would use it. The highlight of the week would be finding her little hidey hole that she had started living in. Anon had managed to get her to show it to him so he could pick up her meager possessions.

Her bruises were starting to fade. It would be a while before they were gone completely but he might be able to start physical training soon. Not sparring, but seeing where she stood. She was certainly more in shape than most women he’d seen. She wasn’t wiry but she certainly wasn’t a bodybuilder. He wouldn’t want to mess with her though.

Anon closed the front door behind him. He had been working late all week to make up lost time. Tonight was later than usual. He’d left at 8pm to get that last of the hours he missed in but he had the weekend to look forward to now. He undid his tie and tossed it on the table. Claire seemed to spend most of her time in her room. That’s where she was when he came home at least. The bedroom door opened to Claire sitting at her deck. One of the textbooks in front of her.

“I’m back.” He said as she turned. “What did you do today?”

“I slept and read. Copied some sentences. Then I found this.”

He walked up to the table she used as a desk and read a few line. “History? Fifteenth century mercantilism? That’s a dry topic.”

“Is it? I was just flipping between topics.”

“Can’t blame you. We can start on history soon if you want. I’ve just about run out of ideas for English. You’d be able to get the same ideas from reading.”

“If we can move on from writing, yeah.”

“Good, we can start tomorrow then. But tonight let’s try something else. Exercise a little. Throw on some sweats and meet me in the living room.”

He threw his shoes off and quickly changed in his room. He wore a pair of basketball shorts and a simple t-shirt. Anon started clearing some room to work when Claire walked in. She watched as he worked. He sat down on one side and motioned her to join him. “Just follow my lead and tell me if it starts to hurt or you can’t do it,” he told her when she sat down.

Anon ran her through a set of stretches and simple aerobics. He noted that she was favoring her right side. She finished most exercises without complaint, only stopping when her bruises stopped her.

“Good job,” he congratulated her. She was out of breath. He filled a glass with water and handed it to her, which she promptly drained.

“What was the point of that?” She asked between huffs.

“To get you ready, to see how you’re doing. Can’t have you dying on me.” Anon chuckled.

“Guess not. Anything for dinner?”

Anon thought for a second. “At this time of night? Could make some sandwiches or something. I think there’s still some deli meat left.” He opened the fridge and searched through a drawer. “Ah! Here it is, one moment.”

He threw together some sandwiches and they ate in relative silence. Anon finished his first sandwich. “You look different.” He looked closer. “Something with your coat. Fur? Hair? Whatever it’s called, it’s thicker.”

Claire’s ears folded back momentarily. “O-Oh. It’s getting close to winter so it’s gotten thicker. It gets colder but I stay just as warm.”

“Does it ever get hot?”

“Sometimes, like when I do exercise in a hot apartment.”

Anon laughed, “Should have said something then. I’ll turn the heater down then.” He finished his food, washed his plate, and bid her good night before stepping into the shower.

--------------------

Running. Running. He couldn’t get away. Terror gripped his heart. The alleys were the only thing protecting him, the twists, the turns, the labyrinth. He took three quick turns and ducked into an alcove to catch his breath. It would catch him, It knew where he was. It just took its time. He took off again. It followed faster, just behind him now. He tripped, his heart wrenched.

Anon’s eyes shot open and took a moment to steady his breath, his heart beating like he just ran a marathon. The sheets were soaked in sweat. He got out of bed and stood. Emotions still swirled in his head. “Jesus fuck,” he said aloud. It was the only way he could express the turmoil in his mind.

He got a glass of water, not bothering to check the time, and laid back down. It was cold and wet. ‘Oh well,’ he thought to himself before he passed out.

--------------------

He stopped on one of the bridges, his breath making clouds in the air. Claire stopped next to him, giving him a look. “Why did we stop?”

“I wanted to show you something,” he said while waving in a general direction.

She looked around, mildly curious. “What am I supposed to be seeing?” She asked after a minute.

“Just look. See the skyline, the horizon. See the moon in the sky, the water below. You can’t see the stars here but it still has its own beauty.”

“Ok?”

“Just take a step back and look.”

Claire took a deep breath and leaned onto the rail. She looked down at the water, slowly panning up and around. “Huh, I guess you’re right. It does have something about it.”

“A sense of something bigger than you, right? That the city is laid before you?”

“Yeah. Something like that, I think.”

“It used to be brighter, you know?”

“How? It’s hard to imagine the city can be brighter at night.”

“Here look.” Anon pulled out his phone and fiddled with it for a moment before showing it too her. He was right. There were more lights. Buildings all around the city had windows lit up. Usually very few still had their lights on at this time of night.

“What happened?”

“What did happen? Your guess is as good as mine. But my grandmother always said there was a day when she woke up and everything was just different. Like everyone shut each other out overnight. That’s the only thing I’ve heard. That would’ve been before I was born but who knows? I’m just talking at this point.” He watched her as she gandered at nothing in particular. “Come one, let’s go. Breaks over,” he said patting her on the arm and taking off.

Claire took off after to catch up. Anon was glad he started running with her this week. He could only imagine how stir crazy someone could get from spending weeks in a cramped apartment. These runs were doing her some good, he could see that even though it was only the third run. They jumped over a patch of ice. ‘Won’t be able to do this soon, not when December rolls around next week.’

The next right was their apartment. They took an alleyway behind it and went through the back. He’d been able to snag an apartment on the ground floor and had been thankful ever since. Climbing up stairs in plate armor while exhausted wasn’t fun. The lock didn’t give him much trouble, much to his surprise. He pushed the door in and started to rub the feeling back into his cheeks.

Claire closed the door behind her. “You cold?”

“Me? I grew up here. I don’t get cold,” he smirked.

“Doesn’t look that way to me. You’re shivering.”

“Nah, that’s just the timbers.” He chuckled. Claire cocked her head at him and he sighed. “My comedic genius is wasted.”

She was unphased, as if she hadn’t even heard him, and started to undo the wraps he’d gotten for her paws. One of these days he’d get shoes made. But those would have to do for now. He kicked his shoes off as he fell onto the couch. The remote sat on the coffee table where he put it when he rearranged the apartment. He hadn’t had time to watch TV recently. “Hey Claire?”

She finished pulling off the last wrap. “What?”

“You ever watch TV?”

“No, not really.”

“Well get over here, this is your lesson for tonight.”

“Really? Watching TV? I’d rather not.”

“Why not?”

Claire looked at him. She was thinking something but shook her head almost imperceptibly and sat down next to him. “Today’s lesson,” he turned on the TV. “Appreciating comedy in media.” He flicked the TV on and started through the channels. “News, news, reality, something? Children’s... Ah here we go, a movie.”

It was an cop movie. He had seen it a few times before but still enjoyed it. The movie plot was spotty at best but it had some of the best one liners he’d heard and some good slapstick humor. Critics weren’t surprised when it flopped but Anon was. It was already halfway over but it was just getting to the good parts.

Anon watched the movie but his attention was the person next to him. She sat quietly and not quite relaxed. She wasn’t really watching anything. He watched when he laughed, nudging her and trying to lead her on. Hardly a response other than a twitch and a hard look. Anon looked closer. He was starting to understand the subtleties of her face; the set of her mouth, the angle of the ears, the posture. No, she wasn’t enjoying this.

Anon turned the movie off. “Didn’t like it, I take it?”

She slowly turned to him. “No, not really,” she said quietly. “I guess it’s just not my thing.”

“I guess not.“ He glanced at the clock, “We should probably get some sleep. There’s things to do tomorrow.” Anon stood up and went into the bathroom. Claire watched him leave. He turned on the shower and stepped in. It warmed with time but he welcomed the cold. It cleared his mind.

‘What was the problem?’ He thought to himself, playing the night over in his head. It couldn’t be the TV itself. No, that isn’t imposing. It wasn’t the pictures or sound. Claire was quite fond of the radio and he’d have noticed anytime she looked at photos. He was thinking too simply, damnit. She was too smart for any of that. He was more tired he thought.

Anon turned off the water. He’d sleep on it, he decided. “Shower is all yours,” he called out on the way to his room. Dirty clothes were tossed in their bin and the lights went off. The old comforter he had dug up kept him warm, definitely a good addition. ‘To think the night started out so good...’

--------------------

The alarm went off, 06:30 it read in bright red digits. Anon hit the snooze button and cursed. It was Saturday. It wasn’t supposed to go off today. He messed with it until he was sure it wouldn’t go off again before rolling over.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

‘Christ,’ Anon thought. The alarm was going off again so he hit it.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

‘What is wrong with this thing?’ He pulled the cord as hard as he could manage. It left the wall with a thunk. The beeping continued. ‘Oh no...’

Shooting out of bed, he ran to the kitchen. Light smoke filled the air. Claire stood over the stove cursing and scraping a skillet. He paused for the briefest of moments to make sure it wasn’t on fire before turning off the burner and pulling the skillet of her hands. Water sizzled as he ran water over the smoking remnants of whatever was in the skillet. He set it down in the sink and made his way to the table to sit down.

Anon let out a breath, leaning back into the chair. The smell of burnt food and fire alarm threatened to give him a headache. He got up, grabbed the broom, and moved under the plastic circle attached to his roof. The reset button silenced the incessant beeping that plagued him and he sank into the chair again.

He rubbed his face. “What just happened?” He said through his hands.

Claire shrank, trying to look small. “I-I was just try-trying cook.” She stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

‘That came out harsher than I wanted.’ Anon studied her for a moment, her tail between her legs, ears plastered to her head. “I know.” He said softly, trying to look relaxed. “It happens to everyone so don’t look so down. I wish I could count how many times I burnt something. Sit down, I’ll make us something.” He offered his seat to Claire before becoming acutely aware that he was only wearing his boxers. “Just gotta get dressed first.”

Anon slipped on some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Glancing out the window, he saw ice encrusting the world outside. It was supposed to start snowing today. ‘Fun,’ he thought to himself. Claire was still sitting down, her head resting on her arms, when he came out. The skillet was still in the sink so he washed it and put it back on the stove, turning on the hood overhead. Sausages came out of the freezer and onto the stove.

Claire was still sitting there unmoving. “Must be pretty deep in thought there, Aristotle.” He said. “What was it you tired to cook? Eggs?”

“Yeah.” Her ears flicked a few times.

“First time with eggs? Or first time cooking?”

“First time with eggs.” She repeated. “And I haven’t cooked on a stove before.”

“Oh. Well stop moping over there and get over here,” he chuckled. “Can’t beat yourself up for making a mistake.”

Anon made room next to him and handed the fork he was using to her, instructing her as the sausage cooked and asking questions about her cooking. The most she had cooked was bits of meat or vegetable over a fire and canned foods. She rolled the little sausage links as they turned a nice brown. The smoke started clearing and the smell of sausage was replacing burnt food.

Anon smiled at her, “Not too hard, is it?”

“No, I guess it isn’t.”

She was already looking better. “Alrighty, throw some bread in the toaster and grab a couple eggs.”

They each cracked an egg into the pan. “It’s all in the wrist. Get all the way under and just pivot,” he explained as they watched the egg cook. Claire tilted the pan and got the spatula under the eggs and pivoted like he showed her. One of the yolks popped. “Hey!” He called out. “You did it!”

“Yeah, but one of them popped.” She said.

“Oh well, we’ll just have to do better next time. Now grab a plate.”

They cooked another pair of eggs. Claire didn’t pop either of them. The toast was buttered and they ate in relative silence. “That was good, wasn’t it?” He asked.

“Yeah, it was.”

“So what do you want to do today?”

“What can we do today?”

“Anything. Though some things will have to wait until tonight, but we can find something to do until then.”

Claire thought for a few minutes. “Hmm, can we go exploring? Just wander around or something?”

“Sure. Though if we’re going to do that there’s a few things to do first.”

--------------------


The door shut behind Claire with a thump. Anon kept walking and she had to run to keep up with him. Her hip felt awkward with the foreign weight of a pistol on it, the holster hugging her side beneath her clothes. It one of the things Anon was adamant about having. The talk they had earlier wasn't what she was expecting. He'd brought out two guns and laid them on the table, talking about how they worked and how to use them before letting her handle one. 'We'll practice more later,' he'd promised.

It was snowing outside, the first snows this winter. Anon had said that the snowstorm had been unexpected and that it was early. Fat flakes had already covered the ground in several inches of snow.

"So where are we going?" She asked after a few minutes of quiet walking.

"You tell me. I thought you knew where we were going."

She looked around, reading street names and stores. "I don't know this part of the city very well. What's around here?"

"Well, there's alleyways. I'm sure you like those." He said thoughtfully.

Claire shot a look at him for that comment. "Why yes, a lot of them. Great observation."

Anon laughed. "But really, there's plenty around here. At least during the day. None of the stores are open but there's a restaurant or two still open so we could get some food to go. Other than that, there's a new beautification project the city has been working on."

"Beautification project?"

"Fancy word for a small park and more trees on the street."

"Oh, that sounds nice." It had been a while since she'd been in a park. The last one she'd stayed in was nice. Something about the trees and grass, the bushes. Maybe it was the green or the flowers. 'Flowers,' she thought to herself. She really did like flowers.

"So what's this park like?" She asked.

"Like any other, I'd say. The city got the land cheap years ago so they wanted to use to increase surrounding property value..." Claire got lost in the scenery around her, looking at some of the signs and more eccentric advertisements. Her thoughts wandered from point to point, never staying for long.

"I'm ranting again, aren't I?"

She jumped at his words, "Oh. Uh yeah, I guess you were."

"I'm sorry, that's a habit. Though you already know that. This park though, it's nicer than most. Not that there's many in the city. I think you'll like it. It's not far now."

The park was small and walled. Anon led the way to an entrance closed off with a small gate.

“Oh look at that,” Anon commented. “We’ll just have to go around it.” He grabbed the top of the gate, used the hinges as steps, and landed on the other side. “Watch out, it’s icy.”

Claire had no trouble following and they made their way into the park. It was dense. Groomed shrubbery lined the walkways and the trees would have made a canopy if not for the season. Dead grass filled the spaces in where there weren’t small bushes in between the trees. A playground sat in the middle of the park with a few benches and a table.

He wiped a spot off and took a seat on the table. She did the same. Awkward silence filled the air.

“So,” he said, “what do you think?”

She looked around, “I’d like to see it in spring. It’s a little too bare right now.”

“Yeah, but the snow has a nice look to it I’d still say.” A quiet moment passed. “I remember I used to wait for the plows to pile up everything on the side of the street. Then when they go high enough we would throw ourselves into it, playing in the snow.”

“Playing in the snow?” She cocked her head.

“Yeah, run around and stuff, play make believe and that sort of thing.”

Claire made small grunt of understanding, as if taking in new information. “You never did that, did you?” He asked.

“No, why do you ask?”

He laughed. “Come on now, that’s hard to b—.” He caught himself. “No, you haven’t. Well let’s go then. Let’s make a snowman.”

Anon stood up and waved for her to follow. Claire found herself in a clearing with Anon digging through snow. “So what are we supposed to be doing?” She asked.

“Building a snowman. It’s easy, just pile a bunch of snow into a ball and then put a smaller ball on top. We can worry about details later.”

He continued piling up snow and Claire moved beside to help him. They cleared a good section of the ground around them before they finished a two foot wide ball of snow, Anon cracking a few jokes while they were at it. The next part of snow man went on top of the last. “Alright,” Anon said as he stood up. “I’ll go get some rocks or something for the face. Start on the head and I’ll be right back.” She heard him walk away and she started on the head.

‘So this is it, huh?’ She thought to yourself. It wasn’t boring but it wasn’t the funnest thing she’d done. Maybe she would get it after she saw the details Anon had talked about earlier. Now that she thought about it, she had seen snowmen before in pictures and books. She just never saw herself making one, she never— “Hey Claire! Think fast”

Something cold hit her neck, splattering into chunks. She let out a surprised bark and start slapping away the bits of ice that stuck in her fur. She threw an angry glance at Anon. He stood there an open mouth and stupid smile. “Did you just...” He broke out into laughter.

She picked up a handful of snow and threw it at him. He held up his hand to protect his face before returning another handful of snow. Claire jumped back a step, kicking snow in his direction. A snowball flew past her as Anon ran toward the trees, laughing the whole way.

‘What’s happening?’ She thought to herself, giggling a little and running after him. She scooped more snow as she went and threw it as she went. Anon disappeared behind a thick oak tree. Claire followed him, trailing him around the tree. He was too fast though, keeping just out of her reach.

They ringed the tree twice before she doubled. Claire could here the snow crunching under their feet, her breaths getting harder, Anon trying to stifle his mirth. She’d catch him this time. When she saw him again, she dove for his legs and grabbed... Air? Claire hit the ground and looked up. Anon had jumped at the last second and grabbed onto a low hanging branch. Fat globs of snow smothered her as he shook the tree.

Dropping to the ground, Anon wiped his hands off. “Gotcha,” he said and offered Claire his hand. She took it and pulled him down, rolling on top of him. She shoved handful of snow into his face and watched him sputter. “Not fair, not fair!” He cried.

Claire let up and got off him. She couldn’t hold back the soft laughter that escaped her. Anon wiped his face free. “Not fair,” he chuckled.

“You started it.”

“Still not fair.”

Claire sat back and stared up through the branches at the sky. She let out a breath. It felt like some great weight was just taken off her. “That was fun,” she said slowly.

“Yeah, it was.” They lay there awhile, the sounds of the quiet city around them. “We should finish that snowman,” Anon suggested.

--------------------

Anon set the box down and started unpacking. It had taken him an hour to find the right box but this was it. “Hey Claire!” He called out when he finished arranging it’s contents.

A door down the hall opened. “Yeah?”

“Get on out here, I’ve got something for yah.”

She made her way down the hall and into the kitchen. She saw the table and paused. “What...”

“Ta-da! Kind of a lousy Christmas gift, seeing how it’s only Christmas eve, but it’s yours.”

“Is that my armor?” She asked.

“Yeah. I made a few changes to the legs to make them more comfortable but it should all be the same.”

“I-I’d wondered what happened to it.” A smile spread across her face.

Anon took a seat. “I took it. I won a fair fight after all. Besides, you’ll need it for training and I’d rather not get a whole ‘nother set of armor.”

Claire laid a hand on the breastplate. “Go ahead, try it on.” Anon suggested. “Padding should be in the box.”

The padding slipped over her clothes and she started buckling on plates. Anon quietly watched her put it on, only assisting when she got to the legs. He wasn’t a metalworker but he had remade a number of the plates to fit her legs while still looking mostly normal. “So how’s it fit?”

“Good,” she said taking a few steps. Armor clinked as she stretched and tested her range of motion. “The new greaves are nice. Something keeps jabbing me in the back of the thigh.”

“Show me.”

Claire pointed out a plate that was too long. “Well,” he said, “that will be an easy fix before we start working with swords.”

“Swords?”

“Well not real swords. Practice swords. And other kinds of weapons.”

Claire made an affirmative grunt. “When?”

“I was thinking sometime next week.” He said.

“Alright then.”

--------------------

“So tell me again why we’re taking the motorcycle?” Claire asked, her breastplate clinking against his.

Anon turned the engine over and it roared to life. “Riding backseat is just as important. You gotta know how.” He hit the throttle. “Hang on.”

The plows had scraped and salted the roads recently, leaving them clear for the most part. Anon went as fast as he felt uncomfortable going. He yelled out pointers to Claire as he went, warning her about driving this fast in salty and icy conditions. The bike almost slipped out under him as he took a turn too fast. “Christ, Anon!” Claire screamed.

“Hey! I got it didn’t I?” He laughed maniacally.

Anon took things more slowly after that and he pulled up to the side of the road. Claire shakily got off the bike. “Everything ok?” He asked.

“I uh... I just need to stretch my legs,” she said. “I’ve ridden on bikes before but that was intense.”

“It’ll get better. I’ll be down there on the right.” He took a small duffel bag off the back of his bike made his way through the block of tenements to the basketball court that sat in the middle of them. He looked around. ‘So many memories,’ he thought to himself. It hit him that it had been half a decade since he’d been here. He remembered how many times his old master had soundly beaten him here. ‘What does a squire call his... teacher?’ Anon had always referred to him as sir. He shrugged and set down the bag.

Claire walked onto the court. Anon drew his practice sword. “Tonight we’ll get a sense of how good you are. We can work on improving things after that. Now draw.”

Claire slowly drew her sword and moved slowly forward. Anon had occupied the center of the court and moved to keep her pinned against the outskirts. He held his favored stance, his sword held above his head ready to strike or parry. They met and exchanged probing attacks, each parrying attacks not meant to strike.

Anon stepped forward with a feint and parried Claire’s blow, forcing her backwards and closer to the wall of tenement. He continued pushing as far he could until she stood against the wall. “You’re against a wall. What are you going to do?” He continued to probe her, each one coming faster than the last. Her ability to parry was impressive enough but he was still getting through too often. “You’re not fighting, you’re thinking. Where’s that passion from the night we met?”

Anon followed with an actual attack, aiming for a gap in her armor. His sword met hers with a sharp clang and Anon found himself repelled and riposted. Claire pushed back, keeping Anon on his toes while he retreated. “Yes, that’s it! Don’t think, do!” He said. They exchanged blows back into the court.

Anon watched her movements as they fought. He noticed it quickly, she broadcast her movements ahead of time and much too openly. His next attack went through her defenses and into the gap under her sword arm. Claire dropped the sword, fell to a knee, and clutched at the spot.

Anon set down his blade. “Let me have a look,” he said. There wasn’t much to look at. Padding caught the worst of the blow but there would be a nasty bruise later. “You’ll be fine.”

He walked over to the duffel bag that sat untouched through the exchange. There were basic necessities inside: water, granola bars, first aid, and such. He undid his visor, flipping it up and taking a drink before offering it to Claire. She took a drink and wiped her mouth.

“I’ll show you what you did wrong,” Anon offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her up. “Then we can try this again, hopefully before the cold starts to get to me.”

--------------------

His sledgehammer thumped against the ice that coated the mast. Just his luck. He had to draw the short straw and go topside. “Damn that lieutenant,” Anon growled to himself. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Another block of ice came free and crashed to the deck below. He moved through the sleet to the next spot and hammered away. What use did a warship have in the Arctic Circle anyway?

There was a crack that sounded like a whip. ‘Shi—’ was all he could think before the metal cable that snapped hit him across the back. His harness pulled taut against his body before it also snapped. Freefall took him to the deck in slow motion and he bounced into the ocean. Icy tendrils spread through his body. ‘Why doesn’t it hurt?’

Anon awoke on the couch from his nap. He was sweating slightly despite the cool air. “That was an interesting one,” he muttered to himself. The dreams happened two or three times a week. Most weren’t enough to do more than wake him up. But sometimes...

“What?” Claire asked.

“Huh?”

“What did you say?” She said again.

“That was a weird dream.” He looked over at where she was and rubbed his eyes. “What you reading?”

“Nothing important, just a book off the shelf. What did you dream about?”

Anon sat back and thought for a moment. It wouldn’t hurt to tell, right? “Well,” he started, “I was a sailor. It was icy and stormy and someone needed to break off the ice that formed. So I did it and I fell into the water.”

“Oh,” she looked down.

“It wasn’t a bad dream,” Anon was quick so say. “Just different. What about you? What do you dream about?”

Her ears started to flick. “Um, just normal things I guess?”

 “Normal things?” Anon’s eyebrow raised

“Yeah. Like whatever happened that day. Sometimes I see historical figures or I’m a scientist. Or maybe I’m in a book. Maybe I’m riding a motorcycle or fighting...” She got quiet after that.

Anon took hold of that thread. “Fighting who?”

“Well fighting you mostly. But sometimes other people, faceless people.”

“Like faceless faceless or just random people faceless?”

“Random people.”

“Ok, I was about to say that sounds pretty scary. But who wins?”

“No one, usually. It’s a tie.” She paused. “But sometimes they don’t stop and I can’t stop them.”

“Claire, why don’t you come sit over here?”

He ears twitched furiously as she stood up and sat in the chair next to the couch.

“That’s so cute that thing with your ears. Do they always flick like that?” He asked.

They flicked a little more and he laughed before they stopped. “Shut up, it’s not funny.”

“If you say so. Now tell me about the fights, the ones that don’t stop.”

Claire took a deep breath. “Ok.”

Time ticked by. “Take your time,” Anon said.

“It starts the same or so every time.” She spoke quietly.” It goes until I win or wake up, usually. But sometimes they won’t stop, like I said. They’re relentless in their attacks and nothing stops them, not even a missing limb. Then there’s a feeling of helplessness and I get scared.”

“How often does that happen?” Anon’s own curiosity was peaking.

“Two times so far.”

He did a quick calculation, counting the number of times they’ve sparred and threw in some extra in case. The answer was not often enough to worry. “It’s not like that in real life. They stop fighting.”

“I know...”

He paused for a moment. ‘She did know, didn’t she?’ He asked himself. Anon had seen the aftermath, she’d torn one her captor’s windpipe the night he’d rescued her. ‘Is this the time to ask? Well, better sooner than later.’

“You killed him, didn’t you? That one man’s throat?” He asked.

Claire’s ears folded down to her head. “Yes...” She said shakily, closing her eyes. Anon stood up, walked over, and put his arms around her. A sob escaped her, “I can still taste it.” The dam broke and tears started flowing down her cheek. Her shoulders were racked with sobs.

“Just let it all out,” he said softly. “It’ll get better.” Anon didn’t know how long he held her but she was asleep and barely stirred when he put her in her bed.

--------------------

“Christ, Claire.” Anon said as he got off the back of the bike. His voice echoed through the alleyway they had pulled into.

“What? Everything ok?” She quipped back.

“Yes actually, I just need to stretch my legs,” Anon said pointedly, standing a little straighter. “And you need to learn how to ride.”

“Hey, I got it didn’t I?” She chuckled.

“Har har. When did you get so witty?”

“When did you care?”

“When did y—”

“Hold on,” Claire interrupted him. “You hear that?”

It took him a moment to hear it: a deep rumbling in the distance. Motorcycles. A lot of them. You didn’t hear them often in this part of the city, it was one of the reason Anon lived here, but Anon knew what it meant. “Kill the engine,” he ordered Claire.

“What?”

“Kill it. And follow me.” The engine died and Anon reached into a space in the bike, pulling out two short swords. He’d gone through quite the effort to hide the sheaths in there but it had been worth it.

“Where did...” Claire started to ask but stopped. He made his way further into an alley. Anon ducked behind a delivery truck that was parked there.

“What are we doing?” Claire asked.

“Hiding.”

“But why? Shouldn’t we be getting out of here if that’s the case?”

“No,” he said. “We can’t get away. They’d have outriders on the flanking streets. We’d be spotted before we got anywhere. And there’s two of us and one bike. It just looks bad after that. I mean, who would be running?”

Claire was quiet after that. Anon took a deep breath and handed her one of the swords. “These training swords won’t do anything. Take this, use your dagger to parry. Remember our practice, it’s just like a rapier. Just shorter.” He stopped for a moment. “And Claire?”

“Yes,” she said flatly.

He wished he could see her face, that tone could mean anything. “Don’t pull your gun, not even if you’re about to die. Not unless they do first.”

Claire nodded and they waited. A gang of motorcycles passed by like rolling thunder. He counted at least a dozen or so and caught flashes of white. ‘They Apostles?’ He thought. ‘Didn’t they get pushed out a few years ago?’

The rumble grew quiet and he felt the tension in his release. He was about to step out when he heard another group, smaller than the first and coming in the opposite direction. His heart started beating harder and harder when he watched the three of them pull into the mouth of the alley. They left their bikes running and dismounted.

He saw their tabards and cursed under his breath. He’d have killed for them to be Apostles. “Damned Templars,” he cursed when he saw the red cross emblazoned on their chests. They’d been the bane of every other knightly order he’d seen, driving them out of their own territories and setting up shop. Areas under their control turned into crackhouses and brothels. It was said nothing was below a Templar.

“Bike’s still warm,” one of them commented. “Whoever was here is certainly not still here,” he said a little louder. Anon stood still. Claire started to move but Anon still her with his arm.

“It’d be a shame for something to happen to such a nice bike.” He paused. “Oh well, I really did think someone was here.”

Anon cursed to himself and stepped out. “You are correct, sir, it would be quite a shame should an ill fortune befall my bike.”

“You can cut the flower talk,” the Templar said. “This is business.”

“You’re right. What are you doing here?” Anon replied.

“I’m the one asking questions. You should know that this our territory.”

“Is it? I don’t see any signs.”

“Don’t need no sign if the whole city is ours. Question is what do we do with trespassers?”

“Quite simple,” Anon said, “you let them go with a slap on the wrist.”

“Ha, you’re funny. I think I—” His companion interrupted him and pointed to his helmet. “Oh, you’re that funny guy.”

“I didn’t think my jokes were so famous. I should do stand up.”’ Anon gripped his sword tighter.

“You’re not getting away. There’s a bounty on you and it’s mine.” The Templar unsheathed his sword and held it in front of him. His two companions followed, fanning out on either side. Anon picked the one on the far right and hoped Claire would surprise them before he was surrounded.

Anon rushed forward unexpectedly and shouldered his target, throwing him to the ground. He barely deflected a blow with his dagger as he turned and he thrust with his own sword. His shortsword was parried in return. This wasn’t going to end well.

There was a clatter of metal and a scream as Claire’s shortsword went under the Templar’s cuirass, wounding him fatally. The leftmost Templar collapsed under her and the remaining two retreated back after the fallen on regained his feet. Anon smiled under his helmet, it was an even fight now.

Anon and Claire pressed them, exchanging blows. Clangs of colliding metal filled the cold night air. There was an opening and Anon took it. He parried his opponent’s blade with his own and sidestepped, thrusting his dagger under the arm of Claire’s opponent. His arm went limp and he screamed. Anon’s opponent was back on him in an instant, throwing him off balance. Anon thrust his leg into the Templar’s breastplate. It threw the Templar back but Anon fell.

Anon rolled as Claire stepped over him, disengaging her own opponent and distracting Anon’s. He managed to get a foot under him and he flung himself into the injured Templar before he could recover from his wound. Not that he would be hurt for much longer. Anon’s dagger saw to that.

Claire was holding her own, Anon saw as he was getting to his feet. The remaining Templar must’ve seen how dire his situation was as he threw a hard right into Claire’s helmet. She stumbled and he ran to his bike. Anon wasn’t far behind, jumping onto one of the empty bike and peeling out after him. He was gaining and he had him before the end of the block. Anon thrust his sword into the bike’s tire before the Templar could react. He went down, sliding on the pavement. Anon hit the brake and stopped, hopping off the bike and running to the downed Templar.

“Wait! No no n—” He was cut short by Anon’s sword. He reached down and pressed his hand against the man’s helmet.

“I’m sorry,” Anon said. He felt sick. He’d never killed a begging man before. Anon set the man’s sword on his chest, resting his hand on it. He left the body like that and rode the bike back to the alley.

“Grab the bike. Let’s get out of here, quick!”

--------------------

Anon all but kicked his door in. He was shivering and covered in blood that wasn’t his. At least he hoped it wasn’t his. Claire closed the door behind her and pulled her helmet free. She fell to her knees in front of the trash can and started to dry heave. Pulling off his gauntlets, he shook his head. ‘She’ll get used to it one day.’ Anon thought. He had seen worse reactions to killing before.

His helmet came next and we washed his hands with soap. He’d go back over his armor with bleach later. Who knew what they could’ve had? Claire was still hovering over the trash can so he knelt beside her. “Hey,” he set his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, look at me. The trash can won’t offer condolences.”

Claire hazel eyes met his, bewildered. “What happened, happened. Don’t regret it or you’ll never move forward.” He said softly.

“I... I don’t think I like killing,” she said between breaths.

“No one does. Let’s get out of this armor.” Anon helped her to her feet and started on her armor. She caught on and tried to help but fumbled clumsily with it. He set the pieces on the table and started on his own armor.

“Check yourself for cuts. You’d probably feel it by now but just be sure,” he said while stripping his armor and setting it in a separate pile. “All good?” He asked when he had checked that he was free of any unnoticed cuts.

“All good,” she answered.

He looked over her quickly, “Go take a shower and go to bed. I’ll call out of work tomorrow and we can go over some things.”

Claire nodded and went down the hall. Anon sat down and tugged his gambeson and shirt off. How’d he go from freezing to hot so quickly? He cleared a spot on the table and laid his head down, thinking of things that needed doing. ‘Need to talk to Claire soon, get clean, clean armor, check that bike we picked up...’ His mind started to wonder and he lost track of time. The bathroom door opened and Claire made her way into her room wrapped in a towel. Anon’s cheeks flushed a little red when he found himself watching. ‘Unknightly,’ he thought to himself.

His shower was cut short by the lack of hot water. His own towel was a welcome warmth, his bed like a comfy loud. Sleep took him.

--------------------

He floated in a confusing void. The familiar weight of gravity settled on him, the cloth under him conforming to his body. “Anon.”

He shifted. ‘It’ll go away,’ he thought.

“Anon.”

‘Jesus,’ he swore.’This dream is persiste—’ This wasn’t a dream. He rolled over quickly to the sound of his name. “Huh, wha?” He said sleepily.

“I-I can’t sleep,” the voice said.

‘Claire,’ he realized. Anon glanced at the clock. It read 03:13 AM. “Have you tried sleeping somewhere else?” He asked.

Anon would’ve heard crickets had it not been winter. “Ok fine, get in.” He patted the bed and scooted over. A weight settled next to him and he promptly fell back asleep.

--------------------

Comfortable warmth spread through his back to the rest of his body. A fuzzy back lay against his. He didn’t want to open his eyes but the memory of last night came back to him. Anon let out a sigh and looked at the clock, 08:00 AM exactly.

He carefully climbed out of bed, trying not wake the other occupant. Claire lay on the bed sprawled on her side, sleeping quietly. Getting dressed, he made his way into the kitchen. Armor lay piled on the table and the trash can was surprisingly empty.

Anon grabbed his phone and dialed the number for his work, claiming he wasn’t feeling good. It must have been something he ate. Of course he would have to make up the hours but that could wait until later. Now he was hungry.

He started mixing pancake batter. ‘That was intense last night,’ he thought to himself. It had come out of left field. But they’d made it through unscathed, that was more than he could say for the Templars. Anon still felt sick about what he’d done. He would have to get over that one day. ‘Get over it, but not forget.’

Claire wandered through his thoughts. How was she holding up? She’d been quiet, probably shocked last night. Then she had come to his bed in the early hours. It was no wonder why she couldn’t sleep. How had he slept that easily? Was he that numb? ‘No,just better at handling it.’ He told himself.

But Claire... It was hard to believe she was only a year old. Well, only had memory for that last year and a half. And was a wolf woman. When had he gotten over that? Whe—

The bedroom door opened and Claire stepped out, wearing only her underwear and bra. Anon looked away for the sake of decency. It wasn’t the first time but it was impolite to stare, or that’s what he told himself. She went into her room. ‘I don’t remember her being mostly naked last night...’ His cheeks flushed.

Anon finished making breakfast, cleared the table, and waited for Claire for a few minutes. “Morning,” he said, taking a bite of pancake as she sat down.

“Good morning,” she said quietly.

They ate their breakfast in and cleaned up in silence. “So how do you feel?” Anon finally asked.

“Sore,” she said thoughtfully.

“I know how you feel. It seems like the day after is really when you start to notice anything.”

“Uh huh,” she nodded.

Another moment passed between then. “Claire, if you ever need to talk to me about anything then just ask.” He thought about his next words. “What we do is bloody. We rob people, kill them, and have someone else dump their bodies half the time. It’s not pleasant. And it’s not something to hold in. I’m here if there’s anything.”

“Yeah, Ok.” She said quietly nodding. “I’ll do that.”

“There’s one other thing. I’d like you to join the gang.”

Claire looked up and met his eyes. “What would that mean?”

“It means you’d be a Motorknight,” he said. “You’d have an order of armored knights at your back. You’d have access to money if you needed it. Weapons, cars. You would be part of something bigger than yourself but you wouldn’t be just another cog in the machine.” Claire still watched him. “What’s more important is that you would have protection, more than I can provide. Take time to think about it.”

Anon stood up and filled a pot with bleach and water. He’d have to scrub his armor clean eventually. Better now than before the blood really cakes on. He started from the bottom and worked his way up. Claire joined him halfway through and worked on her own armor.

He paused when he got to his own helmet, fingering the rose engraved on the cheek. It had given him away last night. ‘I’ll have to get a new helmet,’ he thought. ‘Or not.’ Anon finished sanitizing his helmet and set it aside. He nearly jumped when Claire spoke.

“I’ve thought about it. I’ll join the knights.” She said firmly.

“Are you sure? It won’t be easy.”

“I know.”

“I’ll call and set it up for the end of next month, March.”

--------------------

Weeks passed by faster and faster. He found himself growing anxious despite knowing that he shouldn’t. Claire was doing great with the time she had. It had taken him over two years to pick up what she had in under four months. He was amazed.

It was one week now until the Gauntlet. He’d explained it to her, she’d fight until she could fight no more. When her opponent was exhausted, another was sent. Not everyone attended but a few were required to be there, at least enough members to fight had to be present. That’s what had him worried. He feared death and injury, for the swords were very real. Anon still had the scars to prove it.

He pulled out of his thoughts long enough to change the channel, taking another sip from his drink. Anon savored the bitter taste of the watered down drink. Next time he’d leave the ice out. The wind howled outside with the last of winter’s fury. It would be the last time before spring shook off winter’s northern grip.

He heard a door open down the hall. Claire’s head peak out of the hall and she looked at him. “Oh hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

She walked out and sat down next to him. “What’s up?” Anon asked.

“I thought I’d watch some TV with you.”

He watched a scene from the bad sitcom that was on. “I thought you didn’t like TV,” he said.

“I don’t. But what’s a better time to learn to like it than now?”

“You’re right. Any kind of show you think you’d like?”

“I wouldn’t know, really.” She replied thoughtfully, smiling a little. He left it on the channel. It wouldn’t be his first choice but it wasn’t a bad show. Anon always found himself lost while watching it and not paying attention. It let him wind down for the day.

“So what are you drinking?” She asked. The main character fell down a set of stairs, eliciting a chuckle.

“That looked like it hurt,” he laughed. “Vodka and grapefruit juice. My grandmother used to drink it. Don’t know why I drink it.”

“Juice?”

“Yeah, covers up the taste of the alcohol. Mostly anyway. Why? You want one?” He asked.

She thought for a moment. “I’ll have a sip, sure.” He held out his drink to her. She took the glass and sniffed it. Her nose wrinkled as she brought it up to lips, sipping it.

“Hm, bitter.” She said, rolling her tongue in her mouth and handing it back to him.

“The ice melted, that doesn’t help. So do you want one?”

“Why not?”

Anon stood up and went into the kitchen. He poured her a drink without the ice and with extra grapefruit. She took the glass when he sat down and handed to her.

They sat and watched the television together. The credits started to roll and it went to commercial. “So is that it?” Claire asked.

“Is what it?”

“The show.”

“Well, yeah. It’s over until the next episode.”


“So why watch it?” She asked.

“Well...” Anon paused to gather his thoughts. “I watch it to not watch it. I usually get lost somewhere along the way and start daydreaming. Why do YOU watch it? Or don’t watch it?” Her ears flicked for only a brief moment. ‘She’s getting better about that,’ he thought to himself.

“I guess... I guess it’s because I don’t like seeing other people. It reminds me how different I am. And I guess I don’t like that.”

“Oh Claire,” he laughed quietly. “That’s the most normal thing I think you’ve got going for you.” Claire blinked in response, looking taken aback. “You’re just thinking the same thought we’ve all had at one time or another.”

When she didn’t respond, he continued. “It’s fine for you to think that. I don’t blame you. You’ve had a hard time. But you’re not alone and won’t be any longer.”

“Th—” She composed herself. “Thank you, Anon.”

“Of course.” He made a check on her drink, mostly gone, and made a show of checking the time. “I think it’s about time for bed. Don’t you?” He yawned.

--------------------

‘One more day,’ Anon thought to himself. ‘Less than that, actually. Twenty three hours.’ He took a drink from his glass of water. How could he prepare her any better than he already had? She was as good a fighter as he’d known, given the timeframe. She was as smart as could be helped. He’d stopped exercising so her body could rest and be prepared. ‘You’re stressing yourself too much. Take it easy, do something easy.’

Claire sat next to him, watching TV with him. “Hey Claire,” he said to her.

“Hm?”

“Let’s work on your footwork. Help me clear a space.” They moved the coffee table into the kitchen and the couch back against the wall. It gave them just enough space to work with when they needed it.

“So what are we doing?” She asked.

“Dancing. It’ll help with your footwork and every knight knows how to dance.” He explained.

“Do they?”

“I think. Now follow my lead.” Anon showed her a basic 4 step dance and then led her through it. It only took a few stepped on toes and ‘sorries’ before they had it down. “You’re not half bad at this. You’re picking it up a lot faster than I did,” he laughed. “Let’s try the Waltz, that’s pretty easy, and then we can move onto something more complicated.”

Claire mastered the Waltz easily. Anon threw in more complicated steps, evolving it slowly into something of its own. Somehow it had ended up with spins and twists and twirls. They moved faster and faster as the dance progressed further, each of them falling into step perfectly.

Anon became acutely aware of how she leaned into him, the calluses on her hands, the contrasting softness of her coat. It had started shedding recently, he had noticed. She smelled like flowers. ‘Must be the soap she uses.’ He met her eyes and watched them as the living room became a blur around them. It wasn’t often he could look at a woman eye to eye.

He spun her around one last time and brought her in close at the end of the dance, slightly out of breath. “Wow. You’re a reall—”

***

Claire found herself pressed against Anon. It helped with all the spinning and he was just so warm. She met his eyes as they danced. They caught the light and always somehow managed to throw it back. He was smiling and laughing and she couldn’t help but join in. ‘How did he always manage to do that?’

Her nose caught the scents of the apartment as they danced together. He smelled like he always did but she caught smells from his everyday life: his button up shirt, whatever he picked up around the office, his truck, and always just a hint of motor oil. It all added up into what made him unique. He spun her one more time and she fell into him.

“Wow. You’re a reall—” She pressed her lips against his. She closed her eyes. He didn’t kiss back for a moment and then pulled her in tight. They kissed for several seconds before he broke it. “—y good...”

He gazed into her eyes before turning away. “Claire,” he said. “I don’t— I don’t think this will work. It’s not—” He stopped for a moment to think. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I’m your teacher. You’re my student, my squire, and we shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” Anon let go of her. And turned away.

***

Anon walked down the hall, his thoughts jumbled and confused. He opened his door and walked into his room. It felt like he was looking through the eyes of a stranger as he undressed. He laid down on the bed and pulled the blanket over him.

She had kissed him. How long had it been since he had a woman fall for him? At least a year. His last attempt had crashed and burned after it got off the ground. He refused to tell her about his nightly habits and wouldn’t change them. Hard to build a relationship if everyone thinks you’re cheating on them. But Claire…

Claire lived with him. They got along so far and she already knew his night job. But did she know him? He hadn’t even told her his name. Sure she probably knew it just from looking at the mail and papers he had, but he hadn’t told her. It wouldn’t work. Would it?

He turned over, still feeling her lips. “”Michael, you stupid fucking idiot.” He told himself.

--------------------

Claire got off her bike. This was the place he’ told her to meet him, an old mechanic’s shop just off the docks. A light shined through the front door. She tried it and it was unlocked. ‘Just like Anon said,’ she thought.

She went through the door behind the counter and into the garage. A space had been cleared in the middle and marked out. A dozen men stood in a circle around it, wearing armor and surcoats. Each one was black and emblazoned with a silver gauntlet clenched in a fence. They held their swords before them. Claire only recognized one among them, Anon. He was situated just right of the center, seeming almost alien in the way he stood silently with sword in hand.

“Approach and state your name,” commanded the man who stood at the head of the circle.

She stopped in the middle of the circle. “I am Sir Lupus.”

“Sir Lupus. You come here tonight to try your hand in the Gauntlet?”

“Yes.” She said firmly.

“Very well. You understand the risk of your actions?”

“Yes.”

“Then we may begin. The first opponent may approach.”

She heard someone step behind her and she jumped forward. The tip of his sword left a long scratch on her backplate. ‘Damn helmet,’ she thought. She would have heard him better had it not been there and been able to completely dodge it.

The ring of men backed up, giving them more room to work with. Claire wasn’t given any time to recover and her opponent charged her. She stepped inside his swing and deflected it with her left arm. The impact sent numbing waves up her arm and denting her armor. In one swift motion Claire shouldered her opponent to the ground like Anon had showed her and drew her dagger, pressing it against his throat before he could recover.

“I yield,” he said, defeated. Her next opponent stepped forward from where he was, next to where the first had stood.

***

Anon watched her next opponent, Sir John, fighter. The previous fighter, Sir Erin, had been too aggressive. John wasn’t going to make the same mistake. Anon knew John was smarter than that. Erin had always ignored him whenever Anon tried to fix his mistakes. It served him right to get defeated by “Sir Lupus.”

He had to laugh quietly at that. Could she have picked a more obvious name? ‘What was the saying? The closer you are to danger, the farther you are from harm.’

John fought more carefully, parrying and striking back often. He put up a good fight against Claire but she was a good swordsman, a natural even. She put him in his place. And moved to the next opponent, who put up a better fight than John. They exchanged blows and Claire again came out victorious. The man to Anon’s left stepped forward. She was slowing down, he noticed. This match took longer, drawing out until he made a mistake and she took advantage of it.

It was Anon’s turn. He steeled himself and stepped forward.

***

Claire watched Anon approach. She was breathing hard, she had to end this quickly or she would lose. She quickly thrusted her sword forward, hoping to get past his defenses. He turned her sword and kicked forward. Claire grabbed at it to throw him off balance and caught nothing but air. ‘What?’ She realize the feint too late and felt Anon’s sword crash into her right shoulder.

Her arm went numb. It was hard to grip her sword after the blows to her arms. Anon didn’t let up, raining down blows that she barely managed to parry. She couldn’t continue this fight. His last blow took her sword from her hands. ‘This is it,’ she thought. ‘I’ve failed.’

She waited for the last blow. It didn’t com. Claire looked up to find Anon waiting for her. She saw her sword on the ground at her feet. She could feel the exhaustion in her posture. How long had she been fighting? Not long enough. But she was exhausted still. Was this why he had denied her last night? Because she was weak? Because she had a moment of weakness, let the heat of the moment get to her, and actually kissed him? What did she actually feel for him? Maybe it was just foolish idea by a foolish girl. He didn’t accept her because she was different, because she wasn’t good enough. He had given her everything and he had said “no” to her.

‘Life isn’t like the romance novels on his shelf, Clarissa,’ said a voice in the back of her head. You have to fight for it.’

Everything moved in slow motion. Claire ducked to grab her sword. Anon swung for her and she rolled under it, coming to her feet and swinging at his hip. The force of the blow turned him and she swung again. Somehow he managed to catch it with his sword. She pelted him with blows, though he turned most away. To the observers, it looked that a tornado of blades had descended into the ring.

“That’s… Quite the dance,” Claire heard Anon say between blows. He suddenly reversed his momentum and parried her blows. Anon moved in step with her almost perfectly. Claire moved faster, swung harder with each second. But Anon matched every move. He stepped on her foot and she lost balance. She fell to the floor with Anon’s help.

Claire heard her sword get kicked away and felt the foot on her chest. She didn’t even bother to look at the sword pressed against her throat. “You are defeated, Sir Lupus.” Anon said loudly and firmly. The pit in her stomach became an abyss. “Yield,” he demanded.

“I—I yield,” she forced the words out. Anon removed himself from the arena.

“As witness, I Sir Griffon, declare the Gauntlet over. Sir Lupus has been defeated. He has failed,” the leader of the group said. Griffon looked at the knights who held the circle. “Are there any here who will speak in Sur Lupus’ favor?”

None stepped forward. Except Anon. “I, Sir Anonymous, will speak in his favor.”

“And what will you say?”

Claire lay there and listened as he recounted their fight against the Templars. It was modified slightly. Anon wasn’t supposed to have a squire under him without the order’s permission. It wasn’t enough to sway Griffon’s opinion and Claire knew it. She had failed afterall. She had failed herself and she had failed him. Even at her best.

“That is impressive,” said Griffon. “Please rise, Sir Lupus.”

Claire slowly got to her feet. When did it start to hurt so much?

“You have been tested, Sir Lupus. The Gauntlet has served its purpose in testing your strength of body. Sir Anon has attested your for your strength of spirit.” Griffon approached her. She remembered Anon’s instructions and dropped to a knee. He drew his sword and placed it on each of her shoulders. “Rise, Sir Lupus. I welcome you with open arms into our order. The Motorknights ride with another.”

He returned to his place at the head of the circle. “Knights, you may take leave.”

They all dispersed. Claire knelt there, watching Anon approach. “I failed,” she said.

“Everyone fails,” he replied. “You aren’t meant to fight a dozen people and win.”

She only looked at his offered hand. “I’m impressed you defeated four of ours. Most don’t make it to three.”

“How many did you get before you lost?” She asked.

“Four, same as you. And they drew blood,” He replied. Claire finally took his hand and he helped her up. “I’ll walk you to your bike.” He took her arm over his shoulders and carried out of the Fort.

“You are a really good dancer, Claire.” He said as he started the engine for her.

--------------------

Anon shut the door behind him, watching Claire ride off into the night. He hoped she made it home alright. But she had won in all intents and purposes. She was a Motorknight now. And damn, Anon was proud of her. Almost nobody beat four in the gauntlet, most made it to two and the talented made it to three. He remembered his own tim in the Gauntlet.

Anon had taken down his third opponent when the fourth stepped forward. He didn't remember the name but he was a veteran of the gang, now retired. They had fought intensely, though nowhere near how he and Cladire had fought. Anon like to think that he would've won that fight fairly but he knew the truth. Both of them were bleedingbadly and Anon had lost his sword. He had to tackle the knight and all but beat him to death before he yielded. Next thing Anon knew, he was being patchedup and given a transfusion for all the blood he'd lost. Griffon let him in after that. The only reson he had made it that far was the extensive amount of time he spent as squire.

He made his way into the garage. Everyone had left. They had no reason to stick around on a weekday. Except Dusk. For some reason he was almost always free. 'Maybe this is his job,' Anon thought to himself. It was a solid income and he could live comfortably off of it.

Dusk was staring at him. 'Can I help you?" Anon asked.

"Yeah, you can tell me what you're not telling me." Dusk answered.

"What I'm not telling you?"

"Yes, what you're not telling me."

"What am I not telling you?" Anon countered.

"That knight, Sir Lupus. You're awfully friendly with him. I'm scared that you may have found a replacement for me."

Anon laughed at that. "There's little to fear fom him. I doubt I could replace you and I was merely returning a favor. He helped me against the Templars. He wanted not to be a man at arms and wanted to be a full knight. So I vouched for him. We're quite even now."

"If that's so, why haven't you attended anything the order has done? Why haven't you so much as called me in the last five months?"

Anon was quiet. He didn't have an answer for that. In fact, he had all but forgotten about Dusk and the gang. All of his spare time was spent sparring or giving lessons he was hardly qualified to teach. Anon had barely passed high school, after all, and only had a job as good as he did because of connections.

"I uh..." Anon started. "You're right, Dusk. I'm very sorry that I ghosted you. It's just... It's just that I had a death in my family recently. Very close family. And I had a hard time dealing with it."

"I'm sorry for your lost," Dusk said. "But you could've said something."

"It just never felt like the right tome. I barely got riding again when that whole Templat deal happened. It shook my confidence." Anon was lying through his teeth. He didn't like it, but it was necessary. "But it also steeled me. It made me realize I never should've stopped."

Dusk seemed to take him at face value. "I just hope you'll start talking again. You're a good friend."

"You too. But I've got to go. I've got work tomorrow."

"No worries," Dusk waved his hand. "See you around, though?"

"See you around."

--------------------

"Home sweet home," Anon said as he shouldered the door open. That lock needed replacing and he'd pestered the landlord about it constantly but it never got done. 'One day,' he reassured himself.

The lights were flicked on. Anon immediately notice the large metallic mass passed out on the couch. Claire looke like she had barely made it in the door before she was out like a bulb.'At least she got her helmet off,' he commented to himself.

He thought to himself for a minute before deciding what to do. Speeling in armor wasn't fun. He could speak from experience. The least he could do was get her to her room. But first Anon wanted to get out of his own armor, which wouldn't take long.

Shaking her awake didn't do anything nor did his near yelling voice. Anon moved to pick her up but stopped. 'There's an easier way to do this.' He started removing bits of armor, moving her as needed. Claire didn't so much as stir. He stopped once she was down to her gambeson.

Anon removed the last piece and picked up in his arms. He carried her down the hall and through her door, putting her on her mattress. The room had changed in the time they'd been together. The cot had been replaced by an actual matress and frame, the folding table with an actual deask. Books were stacked messily on the desk, her bed made, the dresser filled.

Anon turned to walk out but was stopped. "Di... I do good?" He heard.

"What?" He said. "I mean, of course you did. You did the best. Now rest, Claire. You deserve it."

He was answered by a loud sigh and barely audible snore.

--------------------

He sat down his coffee mug on his desk and picked up the phone. "Hey Jan, it's Michael. You got that account number I asked for?" He wrote down the string of numbers he got in response. Michael thanked her and hung up the phone.

Leaning back, he thought about the numbers. They were too close, beyong coincidence close. Each 16 digit string was only a number or two off from the last. They were attached to an address that seemed seemed random throughout the city. Michael hadn't put that part toether yet but he would get to it. And each quote looked shockingly similar: not nearly enough money for what they weere trying to do. Hell, Michael probably wouldn't have caught it if he didn't do half the work in the office. The little folder that held copies of paper that crossed his desk had grown into an entire binder recently.

'Who are you? What are you trying to do here?' He asked himself, looking at the binder. These had been coming through nearly every week since... Since he had met Claire. That scared him, honestly. That entire idea scared him. His office dealt with some big buyers and if whoever was pinging these quotes was one of them... He shuddered. That was a lot of money, a lot of work. And it could be done later, at home.

Hid thoughts flowed back to Claire. She didn't deserve the life she had. He was glad he was able to at least give her somewhere to live. Even if it made her dependent on him. He didn't like that and would remedy that eventually.

But first he had to deal with whatever was between them. The last week had been hard. They could barely talk to each other and when they did, it could get heated. Michael tried to keep that from happeing but twice Claire had stormed back to her room to sulk. It wasn't something he could keep doing if he wanted to help her.

But that kiss. He still felt it sometimes. He liked it. It scared him. She was different, sure, but not in a bad way, right? Claire was a woman. She had emotions too and they couldn't be ignored. 'What are you going to do?' He asked himself. But he already had the answer. 'Don't think, Michael. Do.'

He looked at his watch. It was late enough for him to leave without question. Besides, he'd finished today's work before lunch and just stuck around looking busy for the hours. Michael grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and his "work" binder before walking out.

"Finished up today's work, Jan. I'm heading out." He said as he passed her desk. The elevators brought him down to the garage level below ground. His green truck was parked where he left it. The thing had served him faithfully for half a decade. How it kept going despite being over 30 years old was beyond him. Michael chocked it up to the loving care he put into it's maintenance. It's engine roared to life and he drove home.

--------------------

Anon loosened his tie and set it on the hook beside the door. He emptied his pockets into the tray under it. Sitting down and reaching for the remote, he hesitated. It was what he did almost every day but there was something he needed to do first. He knew what it was and his heart started to beat a little faster. It wasn't often he found himself nervous.

"Hey Claire! I need you out here for a second," he called. He waited for a minute but got no response. Usually she didn't hesitate when called. Anon stood up and went down the hall, stopping before her door.

He took a deep breath. "Claire?" He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. "I'm coming in."

Opening the door revealed Claire. She was sitting at her deask, head down and ears folded back. "Hey," he said. The only hint she gave that she knew he was there was the tiniest flick of her tail. "Don't want to talk?"

She was wuite. "That's ok, if you don't. But I do. About that night last week, right before your Gauntlet. The night we... Uh..." Words failed him. Why was he like this?

"The night we kissed?" She finished for him, her head finally raising.

"Yeah, about that. We need to talk about it beca—"

"Because what? She interrupted him. "Because I made a mistake? Because I—"

"What? No."

"—'m not normal like every other woman?" Her voice grea angry and hurt. "I know I'm not normal. I ride motorcycles and I kill people and I look like a dog. I know I'm not normal. I never asked for this but here I am. She shoved past him before he could move. "I know I don't deserve you, Anon, and everything here."

'What is she talking about?' He thought. Claire was down the hall by now, still half yelling and moving for the door. He hesitated for a moment before chasing her after her, catching her before the door.

"I just wan—" She was interrupted when he grabbed her hand before it reached the knob, being spun around and pulled into him. She tried to keep talking but his lips sealed hers. His hand moved to her cheeks. They were wet.

Anon broke the kiss. "Claire," he said quietly, "you talk to much. Shut up and kiss me."

"This one was gentler than the first. "Oh Claire, you make me feel like I'm in high school again. Anon laughed. "This is why we needed to talk. I shouldn't have left you there with all those unanswered questions. But I was scared. Maybe I was scared of hurting you and I think that's what I did. I'm sorry."

He held her closer. "But what about that whole squire thing?" She sniffled into his shoulder.

"I'd hardly call you my squire anymore, 'Sir Lupus'. You're a Motorknight now."

"Anon..."

"And I'll tell you, I'm so proud of you. You did in a few months what few people do in a whole year. You've got so much talent."

"Thank you." She said quietly.

Anon held her. She hiccupped a few times and he patted her back. Her breathing evened out eventually. "Let's go sit down, he suggested. "My legs are getting tired."

Claire giggled a litte and hiccupped one more time. Anon led her to the couch and they sat. She leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around her. It always got to him how nice Claire's fur felt against him. It surprised him how nice heer lips felt. They we thinner and smoother. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes still a little wet, and burried herself deeper into him.

"I want this, Claire. Do you want this? Do you want us to be a thing?" He asked.

She nodded. "Mhm. I do."

"Alright, then lets be a thing." Anon could hardly refer to it as a relationship. It was outside of every norm he knew. Or maybe it was because he feared being in a relationship and having someone he never wanted to lose. He lost track of time running his hands over her back and through her fur.

"You said I can talk yo you about anything, right?"

"I did, didn't I?" Anon answered.

Claire  thought for a second. "Is this normal? Is this right?

He laughed. "Normal is boring. Who would ever want to be boring old normal? And you can never be wrong about what you want, only what you need. And even not all that often." He fell over to lay down on the couch, pulling her down with him. Claire made a weird sound halfway between a surprise bark and yip before laying her head down on his chest.

"I think I like this," yawned.

"I think I do too."

--------------------


His truck rumbled towards Old Port Town, towards the bar he was going to meet Dusk at. ‘A little alcoholic is what he’s becoming,’ Anon thought. He had left Claire alone tonight so he could make amends with Dusk. The truck rolled to a stop in front of the place he’d been told about. Anon had passed it a dozen times before but never stopped at it. It always looked to seedy to him but he walked in anyway, finding Dusk in the back.

“Why do you always pick the worst places?” Anon asked as he sat down.

“The worst places? This place has atmosphere. Just listen to the music, enjoy the lighting.”

“You mean the shiity speakers and dying lights? This place is rundown. Admit it, they only reason your here is that they don’t ID you.”

Dusk shrugged and sipped his drink in response. “Can you even get drunk anymore?” Anon questioned.

“Not since I lost my favorite drinking buddy. It takes a lot. Besides, fun things always happen when you’re around. Last time only three people died.”

He didn’t like to remember that night. Claire’s explanation of her time with Green wasn’t terrible but it didn’t make him think better of the man. He’d found her and taken pity on her, then forced her to be a squire. He wasn’t nice but he wasn’t cruel. What needed to be done was done. But did Anon really know the whole story? Could he judge him correctly?

“I’m not the one who wanted to go out drinking,” Anon retorted, shaking away his thoughts.

“But you did owe those drinks. That makes you part of it.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

“Yep, whatever I say. Just how I like it.” Dusk finished his drink. “Just how I like that. But it’s been months since we last hung out. What’s happened since then?”

“Oh you know, the usual: wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, wake up, get attacked by Templars.”

“Salty about that?”

“Only a little. It just kinda sucks when you’re randomly attacked and outnumbered three to one. I don’t know about you but I don’t like people trying to kill me.”

“So why’d they try that?” Dusk asked. “Despite being scum, they usually don’t try to straight up kill you.”

Anon hesitated. Was it ok to speak about this? “Keep this on the downlow. They’ve got a bounty on my head. It has to be internal because I still have my head, but still.”

“Now I’m confused. When was the last time you messed with them?”

“Not any time recently. You’d know the last time, two years ago when you were stll a squire.”

“Yeah, yeah. But nothing else?”

“Well... Maybe it could be related to what we did back in October.”

Dusk’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “The dog job.”

“Sure, but I found something when I was searching the bodies. It was a phone with numbers in it. Maybe it was one of their suppliers or a major client. Who knows?”

“You should tell Griffon about that.”

“Tell Griffon? Why?”

“Why? Have you been living under a rock?” Dusk shook his head. “What am I saying? Of course you have. Griffon has been basically preaching about how he wants to put an end to the Templars. If that’s actually a client or something, then he’d want to know.”

“I’ve actually looked into already,” Anon lied. He just hadn’t found anything yet, this was just speculation. “It didn’t lead anywhere. Just more dead ends.”

“Oh. Alright.” Dusk snagged a waitress and ordered a whole bottle of scotch. “Hey have you seen that new show? It’s about...”

--------------------

Anon grabbed a beer out of the fridge. The little office area in the Fort was packed positively tonight with a whole 11 people. There usually wasn’t that many people on any given night unless something special was happening. They would filter through depending on the day but it was a gradual thing. Anyone would know who would usually be there on any given night. He didn’t recognize half of them.

“So who are these guys?” He asked Sir Gerald, the knight sitting next to him.

“New knights, a mixture of squires and men at arms who have been pushed out of their territory.” Sir Gerald said. His voice was deep and monotone. Anon had never heard any inflection in his voice.

“How many are there?”

“Enough to double our numbers.”

That would make damn near 40 knights, Anon noted. “But squires?” He inquired.

“Yeah. Some haven’t run the Gauntlet yet. I guess Griffon plans to try them another way.”

“Another way? How you think he’s gonna do it?”

Gerald thought about that for a moment, his gaunt face deep in thought. “I honestly have no idea. He’ll be here sometime tonight, you should ask him.”

“I’ll have to.” Anon gulped his beer down and crushed the can then stood up. “The Stablemaster get that package I ordered?”

“I think so, check in the back.” Anon started to move into the garage but Gerald stopped him. “Oh and that one new guy, Loop, that guy you brought in. Did he really make it to four?”

“Yep,” Anon nodded.

“Was the fight as good as everyone’s been saying? That seems like it’s the new hot topic.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“And YOU beat him?” Gerald said skeptically.

“Only because I’d seen him fight before. And what’s that supposed to me?”

“You did bring him in. He beat four people. You beat him. I don’t think that he was beat that easily...” Anon left the office. Why should he humor Gerald? Gerald was a dick anyway, always had been.
The garage stored all the bikes that were being worked on and some that weren’t, usually spares. A few people also parked their’s inside next to the spares. Anon searched over a few the worktables for some kind of paperwork. He found what he wanted eventually. It was the receipt for an engine he ordered, conveniently placed next to crate. That was it. Anon found a comfy looking toolbox and sat down. He’d wait for Griffon out here and catch him before he went in. Griffon would have to be in sometime in the next 30 minutes if he wanted anything done tonight.

The gang leader walked in on the dot, exactly 30 minutes after Anon sat down. He waved Griffon down, “Sir! It’s been too long. How have things been?”

They shook hands. “Sir Anonymous, it has been a long. Was something happening before that Gauntlet?”

“I was going through a rough patch. It’s all good now.”

“That’s good. Hey, I don’t have much time but let’s talk in the office after I’m done for the night.” Griffon kept walking to the office and Anon tagged along. They opened the door and it went quiet.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m just stopping by to say a few words.” Griffon said. “We have a long road ahead of us. Long and difficult. Times are hard like they have been before.” He paused. “Did any of you know The Motorknight?”

“Well, I met him once.” Griffon continued when everyone was silent. “It was nearly 40 years ago now and I was young, barely 12 years old. What no one remembers is that he wasn’t part of a gang, not even the gang that took his namesake. We came afterwards to follow in his footsteps when he left. What we didn’t know is that he was Hero, not a gang member. The Motorknight helped clean this city of filth. And that’s what we should be striving for.”

Griffon took a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you. We’re going to fight the Templars in an crusade of some ironic crusade. They have been corrupting the city and pushing us out for too long. Be ready in the next few months when we call on you. If you’re new, you can leave now if you want. I won’t hold it against you men at arms who are sheltering with us. And any of you squires aren’t obligated either. Thank you.” He walked out, motioning Anon to follow.

They made small talk for the next while. Griffon asked Anon about his life and what was going on, if he needed help. Anon politely declined and they made their separate ways. That was one of the reasons why Griffon had stayed the leader for so long. He cared about everyone in the gang, made it feel like a family of sorts even if other members were at each other’s throats at times. Anon rode home, feeling more confident from Griffon and yet unnerved at the thought of fighting the Templars.

--------------------

It was dark inside the little garage that held their bikes. A single incandescent lightbuld lit just enough to see by. Just another reason Anon had a pen light between his teeth. The other was that he had his hands full trying to fit the new engine on his bike. He’d had enough of not being able to get away fast enough or not catching anyone.

“Thoshe olts need to ee tightened.” He said to Claire.

“These ones?”

Yesh thoshe one. Hurry ut, thish is hea-y.” Anon couldn’t quite see what she was doing but the sound of the ratchet was reassuring. His arms were burning and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it in place, even with the makeshift winch he was using.

“Done.” Claire announced.

Anon slowl let go of the engine and let out some of the slack on the wench. It held. “Well looky there. It fits,” he said smiling.

He took a step back and looked at the bike. It wasn’t as pretty as it used to be. The new engine was monstrous in comparison to the last and the suspension looked like it wasnted to die. Anon would fix that right as rain. And then he could fix the Frankenstein syndrome his bike was beginning to suffer from.

“God that thing was heavy,” Anon casually said while rubbing his hands.

“It can’t be that heavy. I mean, you did get it in there.” Claire mocked him.

“With a winch, wench.”

“Ow. My fragile heart.”

“It’s about angle, not force” Anon grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. “But this,” he continued, motioning at the bike, “this is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Do you think it’s going to be done in time?” She asked.

“It has to be. The Templars are a tough nut to crack.

Claire wrinkled her nose at that. “Are we really going to fight them?”

“That’s what the word is. Griffon has an informant somewhere feeding him information. He thinks he knows where one of their safehouses is. We’ve never been able to pinpoint where they come from but this might be a chance.”

“But Anon,” Claire moved closer to him. “Do we have to?”

“They’re dangerous. They target other gangs, including us,” Anon said. “Are you scared?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. But fear is nothing to be afraid of. It tells you that you’re still alive, that you still have reason to live.”

Claire rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s part of why I’m scared. What if I lose that reason?”

“Then you’ll move on, find another. It hurts but it’s what you have to do.” Anon took her by the shoulder. “Promise me that. That you’ll always move forward.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” Anon said. “You know what?”

“Hm?”

“We should go out tonight, do something.”

“Do we have to? What if someone notices?”

“Come on, nobody will notice. No one is out this late.” Anon said. “I’m just thinking about how limited our time will be in the next few weeks.”

“Even more reason not to go out.” Claire slipped her arms around him. She had been doing that a lot lately, not that Anon had a problem with it. He enjoyed her touch.

“Yeah, but it would be funner than sitting around all night. And it makes for better memories.”

“Fine, where though?”

“Oh, I know just the place.”

--------------------

The cool night wind passed through Anon’s hair. He took his motorcylce out once he had everything connected again and he tested it. The suspension held, though he’d still upgrade it late. Claire saot on the back clutching him tightly while trying to keep her hood upand being successful for the most part.

“Where are we going?” She said into the wind.

“It’s a surprise. “He hoped it would be. They’d been there before, though it was cold and icy. Spring would bring a new shade of green to the park.

“Anon stopped the motorcycle. “Is this,” Claire began to ask. “Is this that park we visited during winter?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s there to do here? There’s no more snow.”

Anon laughed. “I don’t know about you, but parks are in season year round. There’s other things to do or we can make it up as we go along.”

Claire smiled at that, though Anon was slowly starting to suspect that she didn’t find most of his jokes funny. Maybe she just liked his laughter.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go inside.” He climbed up the barred fence and hopped down to the other side. Claire followed him and reached the top. She looked down for a second and hopped after him.

The park was different from when they last visited. New growth spread like wildfire, the trees overhead prospered, the shubbery underneath bloomed like madness, the grass grew thick and green, How it managed to look this nice in the middle of a city as beyond him.

They found a path and walked down. Claire stopped and smelled the flowers. Anon joined her, “These are nice.” He said.

“Yeah.” Claire smelled a big purple flower, letting out a high pitched sneeze.

“That’s so cute,” Anon chuckled as they kept walking until the reached the middle. They sat down on a table.

Claire looked at him, smiling a little. “Ok, what now?”

“Whatever we want,” he said. “Do you have anything you you want to do?”

She just looked at him. “Ok, I have an idea. Follow me.” Anon stood up and made his way down one of the paths.

“You say that a lot,” Claire said, following him. “‘Let’s go, come one, follow me.’ And you never say where.”

“I do, don’t I?” Anon laughed. “But then it would never be a surprise. If I start doing that, I’d have to start narrating my life in great detail.”

“You would do that too, wouldn’t you?” She laughed.

Anon shrugged and kept walking. “Maybe, maybe not. We’d have to see. I think it would be interesting.” He stopped before a large oak tree with a few lo hanging branches.

“I recgonize this,” Claire commented offhand.

“Yeah?” Anon’s eybrow raised.

“It’s where I beat you in that snowball fight.”

“That wasn’t a fair win and you know it,” Anon tried to sound hurt but couldn’t help his smile.

“I know that a win is a win.”

“Uh huh,” he turned to the tree and grabbed a branch. He hauled himself up and grabbed another.

“So what are you doing?” Claire asked, watching him climb the tree.

“Leaving you in the dust, apparently. Better catch up.” Anon continued climbing. He looked down and watch her start. She had a little trouble with her footing but she bade it. Spotting a limb nrea the top that looked strong enough to support his weigh, he stopped and sat with his legs on either side. Claire made her way up to him and when within reach, he reach down and pulled her into his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist and he rested his back against the trunk.

“Anon? Isn’t this a little to high?” She asked, looking down nervously.

“Not high enough if you ask me. We can’t even see over most of the buildings.” He paused a moment. “Besides, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

Claire leaned back into him, holding her arms. Anon sat there holding her and enjoying the night breeze. She simply enjoyed being there with him. He rested his head on her shoulder.

“Are there always so few stars? She asked.

“In the city.There’s more in the country but all the lights block them out here. I can show you sometime if you want.”

“I’d like that. And it’s always like this?”

“On some darkers nights, say when there’s a blackout or just not enough stars, you can see a few stars.”

Claire looked up, searching. “Like those ones.” She pointed at a particular patch of sky.

“Yeah, though I can’t make out the constellation. Usually you can’t even see that many. Must be a special night,” he said.

“Why not just turn the lights off? Hardly anyone is ever out past sunset.”

He chuckled. “That’s a good idea. Maybe you should write a letter to the mayor. He might make a statute about it and make stargazing a mandatory passtime.” He sighed. “I sometimes wish they would. A lot of things would be wasier, a lot of things harder. I think it’s just tradition or for emergency services at this point.”

Claire’s ears perked up. “You hear something?” Anon asked?

She shook her head, “I think I hear some motorcycles in the distance.”

“Really? I don’t hear a thing.”

Turning her head to look at him, she rolled her eyes and smiled. “There’s a lot of things you don’t hear.”

“I’ll take you word on it.” They made small talk for a while longer before Anon asked during a lull in the conversation, “Do you mind being a knight? Is there anything else you’d rather be doing?”

Claire thought for a moment before answering, “I’m not sure. I used to just want to be normal and live a normal life. But I can’t. I don’t even know wat kind of jobs there are or if I could get one. And that’s if I can get past being… me.”

“Well,” he went over a few jobs in his head. “You could probably do just about any kind of online or telephone job.Any kind of creative job that isn’t face to face, like artist or writer. Probably anything that just doesn’t have to do with meeting people often.”

“Huh... What’s it like having a job?”

“Repetitive, but secure. He said thoughtfully. “You always have the income, however much it is. But it can be slow and boring, it can be frustrating to deal with and probably will be most days. A job, to me, is what you make of it, though. I could shovel dirt all day and if I had a smile on my face and decent pay, I’d be happy.”

“I think you’d be happy anywhere.”

“Ha, you’re not wrong.” Anon said.

“So is this what normal people do in relationships? Hang out in trees and talk?”

“It can be. They usually talk over dinner or on a couch or somewhere boring. I think we’re an exception though. I can’t think of the last time I met a couple who were in a motorcycle knight gang.”

Claire hesitated before asking, “And they have sex?”

“Well, yeah. At some point if they want.” He said slowly. Anon wasn’t sure how he felt about that question. A wrench was thrown into his gears, leaving him off balance.

“What’s it like?”

It’s...” He searc for the right word. “Fun. People enjoy it. Usually. It can be awkward and I won’t lie, I’ve had some bad sex before when we’re both not into it. Or it can be intense, hot and heavy, amazing. Or it can just be eh. Just depends on who you do it with and when.”

Claire nodded slowly, taking in the information. Anon cleared his throat. “You know? I’ve been watching books on my shelf slowly disappear from my sheld for the last few months. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

One of her ears flicked into the side of his head and her tail moved a little between them. “I uhm... I might know something.”

“Like?”

“Like that most of those books are pretty good.”

“Like the romance ones? It seems those have been missing more and more lately.” Her ear flicked him again. “I’m only gonna say that not everything in like it is in the books. They’re right about some thing and wrong about others. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would agree. Some things are better in real life.” He rested her head against hims. “I don’t think sitting in trees is one of them. It’s getting uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, my legs are getting numb. Let’s get going.” Anon let go of Vlaire and she made her way down branch by branch. He followed and was soon on the ground, stretching his legs.

“Hey Anon!”

He turned his head toward Claire, “Wha—”

Anon felt her bod hit him, her pulling his legs out from under him. He hit the ground. It wasn’t hard, more surprising than anything else. Claire had him pinned on his before he knew it and she straddled his waist.

It took a second for him to process what just happened. “Hey! That’s my own move, I taught you that.” He laughed.

Claire giggled and leaned down to kiss him. “It’s not fair if you use a move that melts opponents,” Anon said when his lips were free.

“What can I say? I learned from the best. Or maybe you just suck in this park.” She kissed him again. It was longer, more passionate. He stopped holding his arms down and moved her hadns to his head. Anon pulled her closed and raised his eyebrows in surprise when he felt her tongue invade his mouther. It was wider and longer than his nut more human like than a dog’s. He let it happen, playfully batting as he pleased.

They stopped for a moment to catch their breaths. “I didn’t teach you that,” he teased.

“Maybe I’m a natural.”

“Maybe. But I can show you a thing or two.” Claire barke in surprise as he rolled them over.

Anon was a lot more experienced than she was in exploring his partner. He ran his tongure along her teeth. They were sharp, deadly, and slightly minty from her toothpaste. Their tongues wrestled playfully before it started to get heated. Anon’s hands burned for something to do, somewhere to hold. He ran them along her sides, savoring the feeling of her fur. It was soft under the course and there was hard muscle beneath that. She did the same to him, though he hardly noticed.

Claire moaned into his mouth. This was getting too good. It might go too far. He broke the kiss and rolled off of Claire to lay at her side. They lay like that a long while, basking in it before it dissipated. Anon didn’t know who moved first but they held each other afterwards.

The sky lightened a little in the east, just the tiniest hint. “Claire,” he said quietly, shink a little. She had fallen asleep in his embrace.

“Claire, wake up. We need to get going. The sun is rising. “He repeated when she opened her eyes.

“Already?” She was groggy.

“I know, it’s always too soon. Let’s go.”

--------------------

Engines roared in the streets. It was one of the few times thatClaire was glad the helmet muffled her sensitive ears. Almostevery Motorknight was riding together. The final count was 32. The rest were back at the Fort to keep it safe and provide a rear guard of sorts. Only one person had left to get out of the fight, a man at arms who came to them for shelter.

Claire looked for Anon amongst the knights. She had seen him time and again while riding but there were just so many moving and shifting at any given time. The only person she could count on right now was herself.

They had spent the last few weeks training and prapring for tonight, using what little free time they had to enjoy themselves one last time. 'This is it,' she thhought. 'There's so little time to think now.' Claire recalled the first time she had killed someone. She was mortified. The memory still made her quesy. The second time was easier. Anon had been there and they were defending themselves. Now it was deliberate. Now she was the hunter.

Did that put her on the wrong side of... She wasn't sure of the right word for it. She did know killing people was wrongbut she might need to dot it, it was something she had to do. 'It's to protect myself. To protect Anon,' she told herself. She wouldn't let anything happen to him. He was her anchor in life, the man who had opened up so many possibilities she thought impossible. 'He is the man I l-'

The thought was cut short. They were screaming. She looked around. They were getting near the Templar safehouse, no one was in danger yet. They were just screaming, holding hteir swords in the air. 'No, not screaming. It's a battlecry.'

Claire drew her sword and let out her own cry. It was awkward at first but it came more naturally the second time. Her heart started to beat faster, details started becoming more acute. The third cry became more of a howl. She looked around. No one seemed to notice over the din of motorcycles. She laughed and let out another. It felt so natural, so great.

The gang started to slow. They stopped in front of a three story building. It looked like a worn down tenement. Planks covered the windows that were broken, about half of them, and graffiti covered it. Just how she thought a gang hideout would look.

People started moving immediately, dismounting their bikes and running. She watched someone kick in the door and they started piling in. Claire made it in and followed the crowd as it dispersed inside the building. More doors were kicked in. There were screams, real screams, from men and women.

Claire stopped behind someone, a man at arms who had joined them. It was hard to tell so many suits of armor apart. He kicked in the door and she followedhim through. Time slowed to a stand still. There were three men in the room, unarmored and swords in hand. They had heard them come and knew they were trapped. The men leapt forwards, one for her and two for the man at arms.

Claire parried and riposted, catching her Templar in the stomach. Her sword went through his flesh, gutting him. He fell clutching his stomach. She didn't pay any attention to him as he went down. The other men were on her companion and he looked like he was in trouble. Claire cut one down with a slash to his back.

"Wait!" The last one yelled, dropping his sword. "Hold, I surrender!"

The man at arms hesitated for a moment. Then he severed the man's head from his shoulders. The furon Claire's neck rose.

"What are you doing?!" She demanded. "He was surrendering."

The man at arms looked at her. "Cleaning the streets." He said, clearly annoyed, before walking out.

Claire's mind boiled. Who disregards someone's life like that? She started to raise her own sword towards him but caught herself. 'He'll get what's coming.'

She made her way back into the halld. Lound bangs echoed through the bulding. Gunshots. She ducked against a wall and listened to the exchange. It was a dozen or so shots before hey stopped. Claire fingered her own gun. She stood there for a tense minute, reembering the last week she ahd been training with Anon.They had gone over how to use guns. Anon had surprised her with the amount and variety of guns he owned.

She heard shouting from a voice she recognized. "Let's go, Motorknights! Get out! Get out!" Griffon yelled.

Only a few minutes had passed, she realized. They had cleared the building entirely. Claire looked through doorways as she passed. Women were huddling, scared and helpless. Most men lay in a puddle of blood or clutching at wounds. The smell of blood mixed with drugs and god knows what else hit her, sending a chill down her back.

The smells were washed from her nose by the night air. People were climbing back on their bikes, a few stood in a circle. Claire found her own bike in the crowd and mounted it. She watched the circle of knights grow bright in the middle and break up. They each held a light, a small bottle with a flame at the end. Molotovs, she remembered the tname. The knights hurled them at the building, some going through windows, some through the door, a few hit the walls. They mounted their bikes and started riding. The gang followed them.

Watching the flames grow in her mirrors, she tried not to think about the people still inside. 'A terrible way to die, shee remarked, 'but a terribly simple one.' Claire had been on that edge before when she thought she'd die. It had always seemed like some outstanding case when she looked back. But had those people ever thought they'd be shot? Stabbed? Snuffed out in an instant? Her hackled rose at the thought that it might be her one day.

She heard sirens in the distance, emergency services. Another type came through the blare of noise: police. Hand signals were passed around and the gang split their different ways. Claire spotted Anon and followed him. He braked hard and turned into an alleyway. Another knight took the turn with them. Dumpers and parked cars flew by, the next street passed as a blur of flashing lights and sound. Anon turned at random with only a single flash of his blinker beforehand.

Anon turned into a parking garage and slowed to a stop. Claire wished she had a watch so she could see how long the'd ridden. It seemed so long but it was all a mess when she thought back to it. It was an amazing feeling though, bobbing an weaving around obstacles, leaning and becoming one with the bike.

The other knight pulled up next to Anon and exchanged a few words with him. Claire couldn't make them out even with her hearing. He pulled off his helmet, revealing a a head of dark hair with a thin face. His skin was tan and smooth, giving him a young look. Younger than Anon, for sure.

"So you're Sir Lupus, huh? I've heard a bit about you." The knight said with a Port Town accent thicker and much more noticable than Anon's.

Claire nodded, opting for silence. She didn't need anyone asking after her new identity.

"I'm Dusk, Sir Dusk. It takes some good riding to keep up with ys. I'm impressed."

"Can't be that impressive, I almost wrecked a dozen times."

"But did you?" Dusk asked.

"No."

"Exactly." He looked at his wrist and shook his head, "I've got to go. Call me sometime and we can hang out."

"But I don't even have your-" She started as Dusk threw his bike into gear and rode off.

"Does he even have a watch?" Claire asked, confused.

"No he doesn't. He never has."

--------------------

Anon stumbled through the doorway. The pain was starting leak through the adrenalin. That gunfight in the raid scared him even more than the graze on his side. 'It's not that bad, really isn't.' He told himself.

Claire closed the door behind him and said something he didn't quite hear. His hand felt along his left side until he felt the tear in his armor a few inches below the armpit. He probed it as he walked as calmly as he could to the bathroom. He hateed being shot atm hated being shot even more. It was always a pain in the ass. "At least this one isn't bad.'

Clean white light flooded the bathroom and the first aid kit found it's way out from under the sink. 'Why do I have so many of these things?' This onw would be number three behind the one in his saddlebags and the one in his closet. Though they had come in handy plenty of times when Anon had come home with cuts and bruises with cuts and bruises he didn't kniw he had.

Heset it down on the counter and opened it up, taking off his helmet and gauntlets along the way. The first thing he grabbed was the painkillers, nothing too crazt but enough for a pulled tooth or grazing bullet. Anon gulp them down with a mouthful of water from the faucet. Each movement aggravated his side as he removed his armor. His undershirt was drenched in blood.

There was a shicked gasp from behind him. He turned a bit too quickly, eliciting a hiss of pain.

"God, are you ok?" Claire asked, sounding more shaken than she had after the raid.

"Yeah, yeah. It's nothing too bad. No need to worry," he said, turning back to the kit.

"That's a lot of blood. What happened? Do you need help?"

"It just looks like a lot but the shirt just absorbed everything. And yes, I'd like som help. Be a darling and grab the gauze, would you?" Anon sat down on the toilet while Claire looked through the pockets in the kit. He couldn't have done it faster himself, having not touched it in forever.

She poked a hole in the corner of the gauze packet and handed him the bundle of cloth inside, which he promptly stuffed under his shirt and pressed onto the would as hard as he could manage.

They sat there in silence. Anon checked the gauze a few times before Claire spoke up. "So you got shot?"

"Yeah, how could you tell?" He ried to sound snide but couldn't muster the energy for it.

"Smells like gunpowder and blood. I thought it was just something left over in my nose until I saw you walk off."

"I don't smell anything. But then again, who knows what you can smell. I always forget about that part."

She lapsed into a quiet moment. Anon watched as she looked around. "So what next?"

"Well," Anon started, "we wait until the bleeding stops, which should be soon, and disinfect it and wrap it up. Not much to it. I'm no doctor but it shouldn't need anything more than that."

Claire sat on the floor across from him and pull her knewws into her chest. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Not that bad. The painkilled are starting to kick in," he said. "Not as bad as a gut shot."

"Gut shot? You've been shot before this?"

"Yeah, twice. The other time was in the arm. It went straight through the muscle and barely missed the bone. Could've been much worse."

"So that's what those scars are from... You went to the doctor for those?"

"Had to."

"But wouldn't they report it to someone?" She asked.

"They could; should really. Most do but there's a few that deal under the table with just about anyone. They became real popular once the gangs moved in." Anon checked the gauze. The bleeding had stopped. He took a deep breath and continued. "A lot of things have been easier to get lately. We're gonna make use of that and get you into the system. I've put it off for too long. Now, hand me that peroxide."

Anon instructed her on what to do. Claire washed her hands while he cleaned the area around the tear. Hew found a few metal splinters and picked them out before she turned to him.

"Alright," he said, "this is gonna hurt just keep going."

He led her through how to disinfect it. It burned like a branding iron but he kept his mouth shut. "It's starting to bleed again," she said a little panicked.

"That's fine, just keep going." He said through his teeth.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity before Claire said the words he longed for, "I think I'm done."

Anon took a quick look and sighed. He helped Claire wrap the bandage around his chest. "That's it, he said. "I'm going to bed now. Too tired to do anything else right now." He walked out the door.

"Anon..." He stopped. "I don't think I can sleep tonight. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

'No,' was his first thought but his memory flew back to the last time she had done that. It was the night where they had their first encounter with the Templars. It had been nice to wake up in a warm bed and the weight of another body next to him. It would be nice for her to get a good night's sleep too. "Sure, yeah. Just be careful with my side."

--------------------

The night passed uneventfully. Though Anon was fine with that. He actually felt refreshed for once. The dreams that had plagued him did not visit that night. Not that they bothered him so much anymore, just that he'd grown used to waking in the middle of the night.

He turned over onto his right side, towards the window that was beginning to glow in the early morning sun. The view wasn't much but it at least let the light in. His eyes wondered to the bed. There she was. Claire. He had shared his bed with her last night. He didn't know how he felt about it yet. Of course it was nice, but thinking about her in any kind romantic sense muddled his thoughts. He just couldn't let himself fall further for her until she wasn't under his wing anymore. It didn't feel right to him. 'When she doesn't need me anymore, then I'll take her on a real date. Somewhere real nice.'

Anon fell into his own thoughts, looking at her. She really was an attractive woman once you got past the whole wolf thing. The thin comforter conformed nicely to her body. Her muzzle was slimmer than he had always envisioned on a werewolf or wolf person in general. It gave her a certain femininity that he admired, the kind that said "Don't mess with me."

He listed off some things in his head. 'Yep. She only needs to be put into the system. She'll play it once she gets the hang of it. Then the date.'

The morning light filtered through the window, throwing down a ray of light onto the bed. Anon watched it between touch and go's until the sun found its way into his eyes. Unfortunately it also got into her eyes too and Claire started to stir. She turned towards him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Morning, sunshine." He said.

Claire groaned, "What time is it? Too early, that's for sure." She threw her pillow over her head.

"Just past seven," he said softly. "I'm going to go clean up and make breakfast in a little bit."

Anon softly got up and put on a pair of sweat pants. His morning routine was over before he knew it and he started to undo the bandages around his chest. 'Not even that much blood,' he noted as he replaced them.

The kitchen light cast the entire living room in a dark grey, enough for him to see by. There wasn't anything for him to do today so he found his wat into the kitchen, looking through drawers out of habit. Anything to pass the time would be nice. His eyes drifted out of the kitchen to the bookshelf where his "work" binder with all his notes lay. 'It has been a while since I took a crack at it,' he thought before reluctantly pulling it off the shelf. It frustrated him each time he opened it. 'Not that there's anything to find, it's all just a waste of-'

The page he had opened to had a very familiar address. Anon checked his phone and compared it to the binder twice. It was an exact match: the building they had torched last night. His heart dropped a little in his chest. This was what he was looking for, the break he was hoping for. Who knew where this could lead? Maybe a quick end to this gang war that loomed over the city, he speculated. That was something he could look forward to. 'Or untold riches and adventure, arcane secrets and power' he jested. "If only I knew what all this meant. Where is the cipher, you bastard?"

He flipped though the pages a bit more when the bedroom door opened. He listened to footsteps in the hall disappear into the bathroom. It brought a dark, more sinister thought to his head. Was this connected to Claire?

--------------------

The dead drop for Claire's papers wasn't far from his work. He grabbed them from the mailbox they sat in. He checked them while waiting in traffic. Everything was there. He parked his truck and walked into his apartment. Claire was sitting on the couch, reading a book. "Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey," he smiled. He hefted the thick envelope in her direction. It landed on the coffe table. "I got something for you."

She set down her book and reached for it. "What is it?"

"Everything."

"Everything?" Claire asked as she sifted through the papers before letting them fall into he lap. "Who... Who is Clarissa Demeaux?"

"You, you're Clarissa Demeaux and that's proof of it." Anon said as he sat down next to her.

"But that would mean..." She started to tear up. "That would mean I'm... I'm a real person." Claire choked out a sob and threw her arms around his chest. "Thank you," she got out between sobs.

"It's nothing, Claire. You've always been a real person. You just couldn't say it." He started rubbing her back, trying to calm her.

Claire's sobs eventually softened into sniffles. "I can't imagine what something like this would cost."

"Not that much, surprisingly." Only the entirety of his saving. Social security numbers with credible histories aren't cheap. Neither is a collection of forged records that can't be picked apart. "But you don't need to worry about that."

"If you say so, I won't. But I think I like my new last name, 'Demeaux'. Not that there's much to compare it to."

"It's better than Donahue," he laughed.

"Donahue? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't know my name. You've been around here long enough to have read it on something."

"I know," she said lightly. "I like Sir Anonymous better. It sounds more mysterious."

"That's one of the reasons why I picked it," he said.

"Oh?"

"Well," he started, "it was kind of like my teacher's name when I was a squire. He was Sir Nobody. I looked up to him so I chose a name like his. It's kind of hard to believe it's almost been 5 years." He looked down at Claire and pulled har a little closer. "Time flies when you're busy."

"It does, doesn't it?" She took a shaky breath. "The time I've spent with you has been amazing. It's turned my life around in every way I can imagine. Thank you, really."

"That's all I ever hoped for." Anon kept her clsoe until he insisted that those growls weren't hers and that dinner had to be made at some point. Claire was cheerier than normal as she ate, he noticed. She laughed and joked like a great burnden was off her shoulders. He was gladder when she quietly slipped into his bed that night too.

--------------------

Anon woke up fromm his sleep, really a nap, and slipped out of bed without waking Claire. He hoped it wasn't going to be a long night. It would be nice to rest before he went to work. The clank of putting armor on wasn't enough to wake Claire bit the thud the door made might. 'That door is gonna kill me one of these days,' he thought.

Rolling his bike out of storage was always a relief to him. He liked this one, it did him a lot of good. To have it in his sight alleviated some of the worry that something might happen to it while he was away. He started it and listened to a purr under him. It always sounded like a jaguar or some other large cat to him. He eased off the clutch and hit the gas. By the time he got to the Fort, he was laughing. A wild ride through the streets was always a thrill.

He was wuiet by the time he opened the back door. Anon never liked this part of his job. The little fridge was packed tonight with the bags he would deliver throughout the city. He looked through them as he loaded them into his saddlebags: weed, cocaine, heroin, and more.

Drug running sucked and it was dangerous but it was his turn to do it. And it had it's benefits. The money he'd get from his cut was always a plus. Especially now that he was positively broke. At least he didn't sell it to the poor sods who actually used it. He sold it to the dealers who usually used it and may or may not be happy with the price. But it wasn't any skin off his back when he had to put them in their place.

The night that followed was eventful to say the least, full of bargaining and raised voiced. At the end of it, he came away quite a bit richer. He also made note of everywhere he went so he could reference something to his binder. If he got enough sloid evidencein his favor then he might be able to fit that puzzle together. Anon knew this would lead somewhere, just no idea where exactly.

Stopping by the Fort to drop off the money, he was surprised to find Griffon. The gang leader was sitting in the meeting room, drinking bee under the light of a single lamp. He looked up as Anon opened the door. "Oh. Hello there."

"Sir." Anon responded.

"What are you doing here? It's a work night, isn't it?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. I'm doing the nightly runs." Anon sat down in one of the chairs across from him.

"How have those been going? It's been forever since I've had to do a nightly."

"As best as can be expected when dealing with junkies."

"Ha!" Griffon laughed, "the best kind of people, the true peak of society." He finished his beer and fished another from a case near his feet. Anon noted several discarded cans on the meeting table. "You didn't get any trouble from the Templars, did you?"

"Anon took off his helmet and sat back, relaxing. "None. Haven't head a peep since the raid a few days ago."

Griffon popped the top of his can, "Good. We've got them on their heels." He took another drink. "Anon, you're one of the best of us. I've got a question and would like to hear your opinion."

"Shoot," Anon said.

"Do you think we bit off too much in taking on the Templars?"

Anon thought about it. "I honestly don't know. They're bigger, have more member, and more money. Somehow they keep out of the news and they have no leaks. We don't know where they are, usually. And if we don't know where they are then we can't fight them. In short, they're an underground behemoth compared to us. So maybe? Yeah, maybe."

Griffon winced. "When you put it like that, it does sound bad. But we do know how they operate. They run all the human trafficking around here, mainly, and have cartel connections. They also practically own half the drugs in the city."

"Yeah, definitely too much." Anon said.

"Yeah," Griffon sighed. "I thought so too."

For the first time, Griffon looked his age to Anon. His hair was greying and the lines on his face made him look exhausted. He slumped on his chair and clutched his beer in front of him. Anon saw him for what he was: an old man worried he may have doomed his subordinates.

"You know," Anon started, "we can win. We do what we need to without losing sight of the bigger goal. What was it you said about the first Motorknight? That he was more a vigilante than gangster? Well, we'll do alright as long we do what's right." He grabbed his helmet, leaving the night's money on the table. Anon was about to walk through the door when Griffon grabbed his arm, looking at him soberly.

"How is it that I believe you?"

Anon smiled. "Because you know we just need bigger guns, he said and kept moving.

--------------------

Claire sorted through the stack of papers that covered her desk. It was still a bit much to think that she could do anything now, barring that she needed to show her face. But maybe one day, one day she could find more people to trust. Everything was looking up in her little world.

She noticed one of the papers was a bank document with her account information on it. She had never really thought about money because she never needed, at least before now. There was a laptop around the apartment somewhere, Anon had shown her how to use it once but she typically ignored it. He was at work right now so Claire would be able to use it. Not that he would have minded anyway. Logging on took longer than she liked. She couldn't for the life of her remember the password. The bank website was self intuitive, a benefit of a modern world.

Her account was a basic checking account, nothing special. She was surprised to find several hundred dollars in it though. Claire didn't know how to feel about that. That seemed like a lot but not at the same time. She shut the laptop and left it for the time being. 'Anon will be home soon,' she thought looking at the clock. He'd have advice for what she could do with all this.

The front door scraped opened. She could hear it through the walls. She could hear most things through the walls, like how Anon had been putting on armor and leaving in the middle of the night. That was something she meant to ask about. Claire made her way to the front of the apartment. When she saw him, she had to make sure it was him. Anon looked absolutely haggard for this first time since... Since ever, now that she thought about it. His face was red and a little swollen, his shoulders bowed, and there were bags under his eyes.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he sighed. Anon walked overt to the couch and fell onto it, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Did something happen at work?"

"Only the most dramatic day I've ever had. I guess I missed a few juicy pieces of gossip." He quietly said.

Claire sat down next to his head and motioned for him to lift it. She scooted over a little and set his head into lap. "Well now you have to tell me all about it."

"Okay, if you insist." Claire started to comb through his hair with her fingers as he talked. "Apparently it started a couple months ago with this guy named Hakim, a muslim fellow who works two floors below me. He's some paper pusher or something for some corporation. Who knows which one. But the juicy part is that it turns out he was having an affair with one of our secretaries and his wife found out." Anon laughed a little.

"And what did she do?" Claire prodded him to get one with the story.

"She ran through office looking for the secretary while yelling in some language, probably arabic. She was in the breakroom, of course, because no one ever works in our office. I always end up doing half of the work and yet I somehow finish before lunch. I don't know why my boss doesn't just fire half of them. It's not like—" Claire cleared her throat. "Sorry, I got side tracked. So they get into this yelling match and they're about to start throwing hands when another one of the secretaries burst in. Turns out he was having multiple affairs. I was breaking it up when his bitch of a wife slapped me."

"How dare she ruin such a lovely face."

"I know, right? That's when I got fed up and quite literally carried her out. I left her ass on the curb and when I turned around to walk back inside she threw her shoe at me." He turned over a bit and pointed at a clear footprint on the back of his shirt. "I got back into the office and broke up the two secretaries when security finally decided to show up. They called the cops and I spent the next few hours talking to them instead of relaxing on company time. Made me miss lunch too."

It was Claire's turn to laugh. "Sounds like and exciting day."

"Too exciting," Anon responded. "Especially with my exciting life." He snuggled closer to her and looked up at her. "I have a boo boo. You know what would make it feel better?"

"Hm?"

"A kiss."

"Really?" She giggled. "You're a grown man."

"You're the one holding me in your lap and playing with my hair."

"You're right and you're lucky that I care. Now let me see it." Anon turned his head to show his cheek. It was still red despite the time that had passed. Claire leaned down and planted a kiss on his cheek. "There."

"Thanks," Anon said.

--------------------

Clarissa waited until Anon had left before donning her armor. She made sure to double check everything. 'Sword, check. Backup knife, check. Pistol, check. Phone, check. Keys?' She found them on her desk and headed out the door. Saying that she was nervous would be an understatement. Going over everything in her head wasn't helping either. The plan was simple enough, right? Meet another person at the Fort, get the money, take it to wherever, and make the deal or whatever. At least that's what she was told.

Her motorcycle roared to life under her and she backed it out of their little makeshift garage. Before long she was cruising at a comfortable speed. Riding had almost become second nature to her now, something she could somewhat relax while doing. It helped calm her nerves before she pulled around the back of the Fort. There were several already parked there and she only recognized few. The back door swung open into the main garage, she headed past a few other knights and into the office.

A few men were sitting around the big meeting table and passing the time with chatter. One glanced at her she took a seat but otherwise they paid her no heed. She twiddled her thumbs for a moment or two before sitting back, trying to relax. She was anxious about tonight. It was the first time she'd be doing something alone with other people. Anon wasn't here to guide her, to hold her hand through talking to people. She took a deep breath. The only thing she had to do was her job. "Any of you know who's doing that deal later tonight?"

"The gun deal? Should be Gideon." The one closest to her said. The name sparked some recognition in her mind but she couldn't place a face.

"You know where he's at?" She asked.

"Left awhile ago to get the truck," he said tersely.

'That answers that,' she thought. It took a little bit of the weight off her shoulders. She leaned back and crossed her arms, only half listening to the others. Claire was more concerned waiting for Gideon. It was a few minutes of waiting before someone walked through the door. He was in a suit of armor but without his helmet she could see his face. He was an older man, maybe in his late 30s or early 40s. His face was harsh, starting to wrinkle, and his hair starting to grey. It looked as if he'd swallowed something sour in his coffee.

"You," he pointed at Claire. "You're Sir Lupus, right?"

Claire nodded.

"You're with me tonight. I'll explain more on the way," he threw his head over his shoulder.

She stood and followed him out the door. "You're Sir Gideon, I assume?"

He nodded. "I'm Sir Lupus," she held out he hand. "It's good to meet you."

A brief grimace flashed across Sir Gideon's face before he accepted that handshake. "Just Gideon."

They walked out the back. A blank white delivery truck was parked there. Gideon gestured for her to hop into the passenger seat. "You done this before?"

"No, this a first for me. Never done anything like this."

Gideon sighed, "This is how it's gonna go," he started the truck. "I'll make the deal and you're there to be another body. No weapons, no agressive moves. I haven't dealt with these guys before so we play it safe. Got it?"

"Got it."

Tense silence filled the next few minutes until Gideon spoke up, "You know you don't have to wear the helmet all the time, right?"

"I know," she said.

Gideon looked at her skeptically, "Whatever floats your boat. Give it some time."

They stopped in the middle of the street not long after. Gideon put the truck into reverse and backed into an alley. Claire could see a few vans with men standing outside of them. There was maybe a half dozen of them in the view she had from the side mirror. He turned off the truck and looked over at Claire. "Don't be so tense. At least look relaxed. No need to spook these guys before we even talk to them." She nodded. "Just keep an eye out for anything weird."

Claire unbelted her sword and opened her door. There was barely enough room to squeeze out of the truck. She took a deep breath, walked smoothly to the back of the truck, and leaned against it with her arms crossed. Gideon had his helmet on and was greeting the man in the middle. They were discussing something that went in one of her ears and out the other. The dealer gestured at one of his his companions. They disappeared for a moment before coming back with a dufflebag. He dropped in between the dealer and Gideon.

Gideon knelt and opened the bag. He pulled out a rifle, gaving it a quick inspection and funtion check. Claire recognized it as an old military rifle she'd seen in pictures from the War on Terror. Gideon said something and nodded before walking back to her. "Open up the truck."

Claire undid the latch and lifted up the door. It easily slid open, revealing a lone briefcase which Gideon grabbed. He opened it and went to the dealer, opening it and flashing it's contents at him. The dealer nodded took the case. His henchmen starts moving and picking up duffelbags of what Claire could only assume were lots and lots of guns. They loaded them into the truck.

The fur on the back of necks started to rise. Something was wrong. 'What's that smell?' She asked herself. It wsa coming from the last bag they loaded before they had started on the ammo boxes. She kept her mouth shut and dealt with it. Gideon would know about it when they left, no reason to start something here.

When they finished, Gideon shook the dealer's hand and waved Claire to the front of the truck. He started the truck and started driving before saying, "That went well. You looked menacing enough to keep them at bay and calm enough know what you're doing."

She cleared her throat. "There's something up with one of the duffel bags. I think they slipped something into it."

"What?" He said skeptically.

"There's something in it that's different from all the others."

"God damnit," he muttered to himself. "You better be right."

"Show me which one." Gideon pulled off down a side road and got out. They opened up the back and Claire smelled it almost instantly.

"That one," she pointed out.

Gideon hopped into the back and opened it up. He riffled through it quick before jumping back, "Fucking Christ. That's a lot of C4." He stood up and shook himself. "And it's wired to explode, fucking amazing."

Claire swallowed, "What do we do? Disarm it?"

"Like hell," he scoffed. "I'll tell you what we do. We check all the other bags very carefully, drive very carefully to the nearest bridge, and drop it off the side. Then we haul ass."

They checked the rest of the bags. There was only the one. Gideon drove slowly to a bridge. It was a small one over a canal. He said a quick prayer before carefully picked up the bag and dropped it over the side. They ducked behind cover until they were sure it wouldn't explode. The rest of the ride was back was filled with a quiet tension.

"Take a bag and a few boxes when you head out. Keep quiet about it. After that shit, we deserve it." Gideon picked up a box of ammo and strolled away.

Claire watched him go before looking at the bags confusedly. 'Well, no one would notice a few missing guns. Right?' She picked up a few boxes of ammo and stuffed them into a duffel bag. She rode off with a heavy, uncomfortable load on her back.

--------------------

Anon's bike was parked back in the garage when Claire got back. Something tugged at her when she saw it, some significance that could not name itself. Claire parked her own bike next to his. Every once in a while she had to forget that her own was a dead man's bike. She supressed a shiver and turned her back on the thought, literally and figuratively. The walk to the apartment was dark and quiet as always. She opened the door quietly. Anon jumped, "Oh hey. You scared me for a second."

They both shared a chuckle. "How do you do that, by the way?" He asked. "I can never get that door open quietly."

She shrugged. "It just opens like any other door."

Anon shrugged and continued taking off his armor. The padding unflattering for his muscles, she knew. Claire couldn't help but stare as he continued removing his plate. Near the end, he caught her eye and smiled. "So what's in the bag?"

Clair blushed. Her ear clicked, "This? Oh it's nothing too important."

"Can I see it?"

"S-Sure, yeah." She unshouldered the duffel bag and set it on the table, hardly noticing that the burden felt good to be relieved. Claire unzipped it most of the way and spread the flaps. The look on Anon's face was priceless.

"May I?" He asked. She nodded and he carefully reached in. He withdrew the one of the rifles and blew out a whistle. "That is an M4 carbine. I always wanted to get my hands on one of these. And it's in near perfect condition. I remember when they announced that they were retiring these." Anon worked the action.

"You can have it if you want," Claire offered.

He looked at her. "I couldn't take this," her said honestly. "Besides, it's not my style."

"There's more in there. Take one. Please."

Anon thought about it for a brief moment. "Ok. I can do that." He looked through the bag before he found an submachine gun that could fit in his saddle bag. "I think that one will do."

"I'm glad," she smiled. "Maybe help me with this armor?"

"Of course." He started with the easiest parts that she could've easily gotten herself. The attention felt nice for once. "So I know they gave you a job, but what was it?"

"It was a gun deal. They sent me Gideon and it went well before... Well, until..." Claire scratched her neck.

"Until?" Anon prompted.

"Until we found the bomb. We dumped it off the bridge on 36th street. After that we got back and left the truck at the Fort. Then he told me to take a few guns and head out," she finished.

"Well, I'm glad you made it back." He finished with the last of her armor. "Say. Where did you meet with those guys by the way?"

"Behind the deli on 34th, why?"

"Just curious." He moved in for a kiss and she met him. "I've got a surprise for you tomorrow."

"What kind?"

"You'll just have to see. Wear your best though."

--------------------

Claire stepped through the restaurant's private entrance. Sitting down in a restaurant was a new experience, much less being seated in the private area of a high end restaurant. She and Anon settled in their private booth and reached for the provided menus. "Fancy," she commented.

Anon chuckled. "Yeah, I think I might've outdone myself this time. This place outclasses any other joint I've been to." He looked saw the wine menu and turn it over in his hands. "Share a bottle?"

"Sure. I don't know anything about wine though, so you pick."

"Can't say I know any of these either. But this one doesn't sound bad." He pointed one out and she agreed.

Anon summoned the waiter and ordered the wine through the privacy curtain. The waiter shook his head. "Pardon me, sir, but the Menstrui Agni is not very good. Especially not for one with a companion. May I suggest the Quelque Chose de Vraiment Bon. I find it to be much easier on the palate."

"I'll trust your judgement then. A bottle of that, please." It was cheaper, anyway.

"Your bottle will be here momentarily." He replied before marching off.

Looking back to Anon, Claire said, "So this place is safe? Private?"

"Completely," Anon reassured her. "This place values their patrons."

"I'm sure they do." She didn't completely trust it but no one had screamed in surprise yet so that had to mean something. "So what's the occasion?"

"Not sure," he shrugged. "I just thought you'd enjoy it."

"Well I'm glad you thought so. I always wanted to try some place like this." Claire smiled genuinely. The waiter chose that moment to return with their wine and a bucket of ice. They ordered a pair of steaks and got back to small talk. She learned a lot more about him and they shared a few laughs. The steaks eventually arrived. It was the best food she'd ever had, better than even Anon's cooking. The wine was good and she opened up too, a lot more than she thought she'd ever would.

When they got home later that night, she stopped him. There was so much she wanted to say but he spoke first, "Is everything OK?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Everything is perfect. Thank you for tonight." Claire pulled him close and whispered, "I love you, Anon."

"I love you too. And please, call me Michael." He said into her ear. Him saying it back to her sparked something inside of her. She kissed him passionately and led him to bed.

--------------------

He woke up slowly. He was too warm, too comfortable in her arms but the sun's light was too strong. It must have been late morning by his guess. The previous evening was still fresh in his mind, something he wouldn't mind getting used to. Leaving was a crime against man but he had duties to do.

Michael carefully extricated himself from the bundle of limbs wrapped around him. Miracles had done less than he did by not waking her. His and Claire's clothes from the last night lay crumpled on the floor. He scrounged a t-shirt and pair of jeans from his dresser, wrote a note, grabbed his binder, and left.

The drive to the Fort was uneventful as always despite his feelings. Damn, he wished he hadn't come here. After months of watching and waiting he had his answer. Griffon was waiting in the mechanics bay for him. "I got your call. Had to tell the Mrs. that it was work."

Anon grunted."I was with my date." He tossed the binder at him. Griffon flipped through it.

"What's this? What am I looking at here? Bank notes?" He motioned over the pages.

"That is the location of everything the Templars have done. Two days before they do it. Look at the two newest ones."

Griffon read through it silently. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. "Yesterday. And the day before."

"The addresses?"

"Somewhere on Maple St. and... And here. There's a lot of money listed here too." Cogs briefly turned in his head. "So you say they're going to hit us here tomorrow night?"

"Precisely. What are you going to do about it?"

"How do you know that's what they're going to do? Where did you get these?" Griffon asked incredulously.

"I work for an accounting agency. When weird things start to happen, I notice. Everything we've done is in there. Someone is pulling our strings without us even doing it. When we bought those guns and they snuck a bomb in them? That's there. I went back in the records too and even the stuff before the Templars started beef." Anon explained.

"Whatever you've got here needs to be looked into. I don't know if I believe you but I'll look for myself and pull some strings. You want me to do something? You'll get your something." Griffon closed the binder and walked off with it. Anon didn't stop him, he'd done what we could. It would have to play itself out now. He got in his truck and drove home.

--------------------

Claire was not happy when he got home. When he explained everything, her temper cooled. "So what now?" She asked. "We just wait?"

"For now. We see what Griffon says and then we act." He explained. The conversation died off after that. Quiet tension filled the rest of the afternoon. Neither of them could just sit around and wait. Eventually they settled down in each other's arms. Then his phone rang. He stood up to grab it.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Anon, it's Griffon. You've convinced me. We'll do something about it. We're meeting at the Fort tomorrow night and we'll be ready for them. They won't know what hit them."

He was taken aback. This was exactly what they wanted. Griffon was walking straight into their hands, whoever "they" were.

"Anon?"

He must've taken too long to answer. "Hm, Yeah?"

"Bring everything you have. We'll need it." Then the line went dead.

He shuddered. "Is everything ok?" Claire asked.

His head went down into his hands. "He's gonna fight them tomorrow. It's not going to end well for us. I just know it."

Claire wrapped her arms around him again. "Well... Well what if we didn't go?"

He returned her embrace. "We have to, for the best or worst. There's no other way to do it. Otherwise why did we come this far?"

"I came because of you," she said thoughtfully. "If you'll go then I'll go. I love you, Michael."

"I love you too." Michael rested his head in her shoulder.

She dragged him to the couch and pulled him down after her. They got squirmed around and got comfy. "You know? I thi-" Something warm and slimy ran over his cheek. "Did you just..."

"Just what?" She giggled.

"Just lick me." He said with mock disgust.

"What? Don't like it?"

"No, I love it." He laughed. "Just didn't expect it."

"So... Tomorrow night..." Claire started.

Michael's mood dipped again. "What about it?"

"Griffon only talked about tomorrow night, right? What about tonight? Is there something we can do about that?"

That got him thinking. A myriad of thoughts passed through his head. It was practically suicide. There was no way they could pull something off if it was as big as he thought. It would be something they wouldn't expect. Nothing was impossible.

"It'd be suicide," he answered finally. "But going tomorrow night wouldn't be any different. You want to?"

"Why not?" She said. They looked at each other before they broke out into laughter.

--------------------

They pulled into the alley together and killed their bikes. Michael looked at her, "So. Last minute check. Gear? Check. Blueprints? Check. Duffelbag full of surprise? Check. Honestly, I'm still surprised that it was under that bridge still." He opened his saddlebag and pulled out a folded set of papers. He'd had cajole Gideon into getting the blueprints for him and he wasn't sure if he'd ever hear the end of it.

"Let's go over the plan one more time..." It wasn't the best plan but it was something he could do quickly. Really more of a smash and grab. Except instead of grabbing, it was dropping off a hefty bag of plastic explosive. All his contingencies probably wouldn't even work if they needed them but it gave him peace of mind. Michael finished the outline of the plan and looked at Claire. She nodded and he stowed the prints back in his bag. "Last chance to back out. I'm still game, you?"

"Let's do it." She answered. They started down the alley on foot. It was the best way to get close totally unnoticed.

"This is it, 1231 Maple Street. We climb the roof and jump to 1273 Maple." Anon said as he opened a dumpster. He hoped that there wasn't anything hard in it if he had to jump down. They climbed the fire escape to the top floor and climbed onto the roof. It was a long jump but their target was lower. He jumped first, rolling as he landed, and ending in a sprawl of limbs. Claire landed in much the same way. The door from the rooftop was locked but he broke it open.

They made their way into the building, Claire's rifle and his SMG at the ready. Their target room was near the center of the building, where they could hopefully take down a good portion of the place. The stairwell was empty and they got out on the fourth floor. The immediate hallway was clear and they made their way to the corner. They took a peak and saw a couple goons in armor standing outside a door. Their door.

"Damn," Michael cursed. It was going to well. "It's about to get messy." Claire nodded in agreement.

They easy their way around the corner and opened fire. The Templars went down in an instant and they broke into a sprint. They got to the door and Machael signaled for Claire to take the other side of the door. He got in front of it and kicked the door in. Claire was inside in an instant and all hell broke loose. He rushed in and shot anyone he saw. Bullets flew passed his head and he could've sworn that he'd been hit once or twice. When the shooting stopped he took note of his surroundings. Five bodies lay on the floor, 4 with armor and one without. The armored Templars had guns the other didn't have anything but a business suit.

When he saw Claire, his heart jumped in relief. She was standing and he couldn't see any blood or holes. Michael went to and started patting her down, she likewise did the same to him. He'd seen people get shot and not even realize it until someone else pointed it out. They breathed a collective sigh when the were both miraculously unscathed. "Let's hurry before anyone shows up." He dropped the surprise duffel and was about to leave when he stopped. Out of curiosity, he moved to the business man and kicked him over. His breath caught in his throat.

"Jim?" He breathed.

The body's eyes snapped open. "Michael?!" Then it was up off the ground before Michael could react. Next the he knew, he was flying across the room. He hit the wall and fell to the ground. His head was ringing from the impact and the Claire's gunfire barely registered. Michael got to his knees. The wall behind him was crumpled inward, a stud had stopped him from going further.

The scuffle in front of him caught his attention. Claire's gun was on the floor and her sword was out. She was barely keeping him at bay. It was only a matter of time before he slipped past her, he was moving too fast. 'Damn, she's good.' He thought hazily. "God damnit," he cursed and shook his head clear. Getting up, he reached for his sword that wasn't there. It stuck out from the wall by it's hilt. He didn't have enough time to dig it free.

Jim already had Claire by her neck and had torn her helmet off. He was cackling wildly when Michael hit him from the side. He might have been inhumanly strong and fast but Michael still had more mass and inertia behind him. They flew to the ground and his former manager dropped Claire. It quickly turned into a grapple and Michael was losing rapidly. Another set of arms joined the fray and Claire had the man in a chokehold. It didn't seem to phase him at all and he stood, taking them both with him.

He had Michael by the arm and he could feel it starting to come out of his socket. He screamed and threw a punch as hard as he could with his other fist. Claire let go and bit into his neck. Blood started to pulse everywhere and the manager threw her off. Michael's arm came out of his socket and he screamed again.

"God damnit," Jim said. "Why did it have to be you? Best worker I ever had." He dropped Michael and started to turn. "That damne-" He was cut off. Claire's sword passed through his shoulder and down through his chest, bisecting him. He fell and she stood over him breathing heavily.

Everything was quiet for a moment. Then an arm grabbed Michael by his bad arm and he whimpered. Jim pulled himself close, "Micheal, He'll take everything from you." He said hastily. "Don-" And his was cleaved from his shoulders. The head fell to the floor and a cloud of black smoke came out of its mouth, straight into his helmet. Michael coughed and Claire helped him to his feet.

"Let's just get out of here," she said. His world was starting to spin when she grabbed their stuff and lead him out. By the time the left through the fire escape, he was feeling better and could stand on his own.

"I'll ride with you," he told her. They got on her bike and Michael called the burner phone he'd rigged to his surprise bag. He really hoped it worked, he'd never tried anything like that before. An explosion answered his call and they rode off. The rest of the night was a blur. At least that was the last he'd have to see of the Templars.

--------------------

His arm was still sore when he went into work the next afternoon. He'd guided Claire through popping it back it but damn it sucked. The only reason he was even here was so he could go through Jim's office. He searched it for over an hour in every possible nook and cranny but found nothing except a complaint against by the women he'd thrown in the street. The cameras saw him do it all but he didn't care. Jim was dead and he would no doubt be fired over the complaint anyway. But there was nothing incriminating. Michael left in frustration.

His frustration came to a peak when a siren went off behind him and he pulled over. He turned the car off and got his license and registration ready. The cop's loudspeaker went on. "Sir, step out of your car and place your hands on the roof."

He cursed and complied. The cop got out of his car. "What's going on here, officer?" He asked.

"Turn away from the sound of my voice," was the only answer he got.

"Do you even have a warrant?" The cop tazed him. Michael's body seized up and he fell over. He was in handcuffs in seconds then dragged into the backseat of the cruiser. No amount of screaming or arguing got anohter response out of the officer. He was starting to doubt that the guy even was a cop as they drove away.

When they stopped, Michael found himself in an alley. The cop opened the door and waved for him to get out. He was grabbed by the wrist and led from behind further into the alley. A cold metal barrel touched the back of his ribs. "So what? You're just gonna shoot me?"

"It's just business." The officer answered.

"Business, my ass." Michael answered and pivoted inward toward the cop, headbutting him as hard as he could. The cop fell backward and Michael kicked the gun away out of his hand before bringing his foot down on the man's head. He dropped it again and he went limp. Michael brought his hands under his feet and scrounged through his pockets for the key. Once free of his shackles, he divested the cop of the rest of his utility belt before leaving. It was time to get out of town. As he walked past the open cruiser, he caught a snippet of the radio chatter.

--------------------

Claire got into her assigned position. Griffon had explained early that they were going to ambush the Templars when they got there. Of course her and Michael had taken care of that last night so the Templars should be a no show. She'd go home and fall asleep in his arms. At least that was the plan. When STORm team vans started rolling down the road, everything went to shit. Special Target and Object Recovery teams were established to combat high level threats that SWAT couldn't handle.

Someone opened fire from across the street and the convoy halted, each vehicle went to a different side of the street and troops started to poor out. More knights opened fire from the surronding buildings. The teams reacted quickly and efficiently, sweeping into buildings. Claire caught one that tried to enter her building. Something flew through the window with a thump and the room started to fill with smoke. Claire started to cough uncontrollably, her eyes started to weep and she could barely keep them open. The door blew open and the last thing she remembered was a blinding flash and deafening noise.

--------------------

Michael almost crapped himself when he heard the radio chatter. There was a raid on the Fort. "Damnit, nothing should've happened. We stopped it." He cursed. 'Fuck it,' he thought and went back to the cop he'd beaten into unconsciousness. Stripping him of everything, Michael was soon had a very convincing disguise. All he had to do was nail the role of 'Officer Smith' and whoever that was.

The cruiser came to life with a roar and he found the siren switch. Apparently a good majority of the gang had been detained by a STORm team. It was complete overkill in his opinion. He followed the radio feed to where the convoy was passing in the aftermath of the raid and slipped in behind them. When they got to the nearest precinct, half the vehicles split off and continued. The other half pulled around the back, including the big vans that presumably carried the other knights. He followed those ones.

They were already unloading the vans when he got out. He eyed each one, recognizing who got caught. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Claire. 'At least they haven't stripped them yet.' Michael got out of the car and followed them. His visioned darkened and his periphals blurred. One of the STORm troops stopped him, "Smith. Was wondering when you'd show up. Captain wants you with this lot. Says 'it's under your jurisdiction,'" he laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. You wouldn't be laughing if it was you." He replied and walked in behind the last of the knights. Sweat was beading on his forehead. 'Pure luck,' he reminded himself. He followed them down a floor into a holding area. No one he passed questioned him and he wasn't about to question them. The knights were thrown into a few large cells where they grumbled and whispered to themselves.

The STORm member escorting them turned to him. "You know what to do," he said as he nudged Michael with his elbow. Then he walked out. Michael had no clue what to do. So he went with the best thing he could think of and walked into the office near the entrance to the holding area.

The cop looked at him suspiciously. "You're that new transfer, right? Word has it you're in close with that STORm team that showed up earlier today."

Michael smiled. "Yep, that's me. New guy. Though I've never worked with a STORm team in my life." He flicked his baton out. The officer shouted and threw up his arms to shield himself. His elbow went with a crack and his head went next. Michael hit over the head one more time for safe measure. "Man, I've hit too many people over the head today," he remarked.

He quickly searched the what looked to be a control panel and hit "emergency release" and hoped it did what he wanted. The cell doors slammed open and an alarm went off. He cursed and grabbed a few sets of keys off a hook on the wall. 'There's no way it should be this easy.' The knight were already moving out of the cells and he waved them over. "Get out of here the way you came in," he yelled out and started unlocking cuffs. No one objected and he passed a few more sets of keys around to hasten the process. They started making their way out when he saw a familiar suit of armor and grabbed it.

"We're getting out of here, come one." Claire didn't budge.

"Who the hell are you?" She asked, skeptic.

His vision was still blurry, probably the after effects of almost going through a wall. He shook his head clear and motioned for her to go. She hesitated a moment longer and let him lead her. He had no clue where he was going but he wasn't about to follow the rest of them. Several turns later, he saw a sign for the garage. He followed it and almost ran headlong into a pair of officers going the opposite direction. They stopped, surprised. There wasn't any time to waste. Michael pulled his gun and shot them before they could react. The little pity he had for them went away as he handed one of their guns to Claire.

The garage office was right before the entrance to the garage itself. It was surprisingly unlocked and he grabbed the first set of keys he found. Conveniently a motorcycle key. A brief search found the right bike and it started eagerly. This was it. They rode out of the garage and down the street. "Holy shit," he yelled back to her. "I actually did it!"

"Michael! How the hell did y-" The clatter of gunfire cut her off. Claire grunted, her grip loosened, the motorcycle clanked. She was leaning hard on him.

Time froze but he kept going. He turned twice and stopped. Claire let go of him and fell to the ground. Something finally snapped in his heart and he felt a welling of despair. "Nononono..." he muttered. Michael started stripping her of her armor. He had to stop it. There was so much blood. He got it off and almost smacked himself. The bike. There had to be something in there but he couldn't stop. "Fuck!"

The bike had a small medical kit in one of the saddlebags. He hastily went through it and tore open a package of gauze and started with the wound on her stomach but stopped. He was panicking. He mentally took a step back and reassessed. There were multiple wounds on her leg and two through her stomach. Her eyes were open but glazed over in shock. She was breathing shakily. He took a deep breath and reached into the kit for a tourniquet, tightening it on her leg.  He stuffed a new pack of gauze over her stomach and wrapped it as tightly as he could.

Michael stood shakily and looked around. He knew where he was and wished he didn't. There was only one doctor he knew he could reach in time for her to have a chance. The number was already in his phone and he dialed it.

"Hello?" The man's voice answered.

"Father."

--------------------

She felt so light in his arms. He'd sprinted two blocks as fast as he could since the damned bike was shot and he didn't feel tired at all. That worried him. Michael saw the right house and pounded on the door. It was one of those thin but tall houses made of brick you'd only find in dense, old cities like Port Town or London. The kind that was connected to eight others and you'd never get a lick of provacy.

The front door opened. "Mike, come in come in," the older man ushered. Whatever sense of urgency paled when he saw what his son carried. "W-what's that?"

"It doesn't matter. Just help me get her on the table." Michael said impatiently. He was lead to the kitchen where table with a white cloth over it stood. She was laid down as gently as could be.

"I don't even know where to start with this. I work at urgent care, not a trauma ward. Who knows if even half the drugs in my bag will wo-"

Michael cut him off by grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifting him and inch off the ground. "You left." He said angrily. "If one of us walks through that door and she's not stable, we'll never see each other again. If you ever loved me, you'll do this one thing for me. Please." Michael let go.

The man ran a hand through his graying hair. "Ok. I'll do it. Hand me that needle, the one on the left." The next two hours were nerve wracking for the both of them. The bleeding stopped and they got the bullet fragments out. His Father stitched the wounds shut and applied disinfectant. They were washing their hands when he spoke up. "I don't know if she'll make it. There was a lot of blood and she might have lost too much."

Anon finished washing his hands and didn't look at him. "I'm sorry. I threatened you."

His Father shook a little. "No, I'm the one who should be. You were right. I left when you needed me. When Maren died, I couldn't handle it and left you to your grandmother. I loved your mother too much."

"We can talk about this later. I've had a long few days." Michael sat down in a chair they'd moved to make room. He couldn't control his shaking, the adrenalin had run out long ago.

The next minute was painfully quiet. "What is... she, Mike?"

"You think I know? She just showed up one day and I took her in. She doesn't even remember anything over a few years ago."

"You always had a soft spot for anyone you could help. You would've made a great doctor. But you became a criminal. I know that uniform isn't yours. Don't think I haven't seen the news, the armored bike gangs fighting in the streets, the police not doing anything. So what did you do? Take her in like a stray and force her into your way of life?" His Father said disappointment in his voice.

Michael stood up. "Don't ever call her a stray. I let her in because there's someone, something looking for her."

"Sorry. I'm just shocked." His apology sounded genuine. "I didn't expect you to come knocking on my door covered in blood. I've never done anything like this before. You love her, don't you?"

Michael expression must've reflected his shock.

"Don't look so surprised. I would act the same way for your mother. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone about her if she's being looked for." He promised. "You need rest. I'll keep an eye on her."

Michael nodded and felt all his fatigue come down on him. He lumbered into the living and fell onto the couch.

--------------------

He didn't find sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, they were filled with blood and fire and a demon above all of it. But he felt something. He somehow knew what it meant now, all the dreams. He knew where they led to. Michael got up and walked out the door. His father slept quietly at the counter and didn't stir when the door closed.

The street was quiet despite the previous chaos of his actions. He found himself walking towards the docks. At some point he was running, sprinting. When he got to a warehouse, he stopped. Michael didn't even feel tired. The back door was unlocked and the lights were on. It was surprisingly empty. A figure dressed in black stood in the middle. Michael walked to him and stopped before him.

The figure was slim and gaunt. His hair was black, as were his eyes and nails. It looked back at him and spoke, "So. You've finally arrived. I'm surprised, honestly. You're strong. You'll make a good servant." It's voice was refined, yet had a maddened quality to it.

Black smoke exuded from body, like the very pores of his skin were leaking ink. Michael couldn't move as it swept over him. He wanted to cough but he couldn't. His lungs burned, his skin and eyes burn, he wanted to pull his hair out. But he could do nothing.

"You really threw me for a loop, Mr Anonymous. Or is it Michael? Especially at the end there, making me call in STORm instead of those ruffians." His voice gave Michael something to focus on other than the searing pain that encompassed his whole body. "And your boss? Did not see that coming. He did his job though in the end and got you to me. You're a tough little cookie with a lot of luck, smart too."

Michael vision faded. He came to in a forest. It was dark, black mist clogged the sky. "I always get what I want in the end," said his disembodied voice. "And I won't let another wave happen." A deep, gutteral rumbling came from the mist. It's silhouette came clear in the mist. The Beast of his dreams was coming.

"It's you. You're behind all of it, aren't you?" It was hard to talk, his throat was so dry.

"Of course, from the start. You just happened to waltz in."

"But why?" The Beast was almost upon him but he still could not move.

"The age old question. I'm the good guy, believe it or not. Our reality will end, I've seen it. And the Shewolf is the key. She cannot live."

Michael struggled. "You can't win, you bastard. I won't let you." He fought the paralysis with every fiber of his being. His hands clenched into fists and trembled.

"You say that yet here you are, on the brink of your death. Maybe I'll have to pay Doctor Daddy and that bitch a call when I'm done with you."

A taut cord within him snapped. The pain ceased briefly and then redoubled itself. A different pain, an inner pain to oppose the black mist. The Beast lunged at him and he caught it by the throat. Blinding fire filled his vision and he was back in the warehouse. Argent flame covered his body, filling his very being. The black mist was consumed and replaced by yet more of his fire. Great gouts of the flame shot through the air at the Figure. He briefly held back the assault with his darkness before falling before Michael. He struggled in vain to escape until even his very body was burned to ash.

Michael fell out of the air. Had he been floating the entire time? The flame still covered him and had spread to the rest of the building. The heat was unbearable yet his skin did not burn. He had to get out before the entire place came crashing down. He ran for his life. Ceiling beams crashed around him but the door was right there. 'Just two more steps, just tw-'




--------------------




EPILOGUE




"Where am I?"

"Where are you?"

"Am I dead?"

"Are you?"

"Are you God?"

"Ha! What a notion. No I am not. You are here. Between the worlds and very much alive."

"If I'm alive, can I go back?"

"No, you nor I have the power to do that."

"Who does?"

"I do not know."

"What now?"

"Now we go to my world. We have the power to go there. What say you?"

"..."

"Perhaps you may find your way back, in time."

"Ok. I'll go with you."

--------------------

Michael slowly drifted to sleep on the couch. "A Cape's rights are the same as everyone else..." The news went on and on. Capes this, Capes that. He didn't care all that much.

He dreamed he was a great king. Except his hair and eyes were brown instead of black and green and he was a lot older. And he was at meeting his all his important soldiers and all they talked about were food this and horses that. Michael held up his hand and stopped the meeting. "This council is adjourned."

A few bickered sourly that it was important but they left with all the others anyway. He stopped one before he left, "Dontus." The name didn't mean much to him but Michael knew he was trustworthy.

"Yes, my king?" He answered.

"See to it that my quarters aren't disturbed for... Let's say two days."

"Aye, my lord." Dontus left the tent.

Michael left a few minutes after him. He walked slowly through the camp, inspecting his soldiers as he went. When he got to his personal tent, he tied the flap shut. Michael looked up, directly at himself. Somehow. "Now, who are you?"

"Michael James Demeaux! What did I say about sleeping with the TV on?" His mom sternly asked, waking him from his reverie. She wasn't like other kid's moms. She was a wolf. Not that he minded, she was soft and warm.

"That it'll rot my brain." He answered.

"That's right. Now let's go upstairs and tuck you in."

"Yes, mom."




TO BE CONTINUED...