2006, 15th January

Basrah, Iraq

When Anders returned to the garrison, he returned to a portrait of carnage, fire and blood.

The pyres could be seen from miles away.

The blood soaked dirt only squelched under his boot when he got much closer.

And in the center of it all, one unarmed man stood alone.

Heavily muscled, naked body smeared with blood that was not his own.

“V-Victor?”

The man turned to look at Anders with a deceptively serene smile, completely at odds with the battle madness dancing within his eyes.

“Anders. Couldn’t convince Magnus to come back after all. What’s the matter, he develop a taste for a real man?”

“Victor! What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t bother raising your voice to me. You could only ever fight hiding behind Magnus’ wake. Now, why don’t you save us both the trouble and run away with your tail between your legs, as you’ll inevitably do.”

Anders clenched his teeth, drew his firearm, and fired in one fluid motion.

And in one fluid motion, Victor sidestepped the bullets, smile never wavering.

Anders tossed the weapon aside, and charged.

Opening with a straight right hand.

Which Victor ducked under with contemptuous ease, and dug an elbow in Anders’ gut.

Forcing back the bile that had risen to the back of his throat, Anders lashed out with a kick, which Victor promptly caught and flipped him onto his back.

As Anders struggled to rise, Victor attacked with a kick of his own, blurring and whipping through the air as it caught Anders’ nose with a sickening crunch, and he was flung away.

“Hrrk! Ngh!”

“Don’t make me laugh. Your fear is weighing you down enough that I can see your moves coming from miles away.”

Anders picked himself up off the soil, then darted behind the wreckage of one of the armoured vehicles in the compound, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake.

“Ah, the old tactical retreat. With any of the others, I’d maybe give them the benefit of doubt. But you’re just a coward, ain't you, Andy, my boy.”

“Wha- what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What I was born to do, pup. What we were all born to do. And don’t go thinking I just mean our little esteemed company mongrels that’s eating dirt right now, no- I do mean every single one of us.”

Anders drew his sidearm, hoping to catch his opponent in a moment of distraction, turned the corner, and fired.

Victor simply stepped aside once more.

“Now, now, don’t interrupt my monologue just when I get to the juicy glorious bits about turning this world to a crucible of war and surpassing Fenrir himself and all that.”

Even talking, Victor glided effortlessly through the space between them, dancing away from another shot fired from Anders’ gun, and simply snatching it from his hand.

And he slammed the butt of the weapon into Anders’ jaw, sending him sprawling.

“Actually sounds pretty cool when I put in a monologue like that. And it is going to be. For me.”

Anders’ jaw had already healed, and he charged Victor once more, tackling below the waistline.

Victor merely shook him off, then emptied the rest of the clip in his gut.

Anders’ vision swam with red.

Muscle bound fur tore its way out of his clothes and skin alike.

And a great timber man-wolf leapt backwards, sailing through the air.

Victor spread his arms wide.

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“Still gonna run away, even in that form?”

The man-wolf crouched down to all four limbs, bringing all its focus to bear.

This final strike would be the end, one way or the other.

Parking all his weight on his front, Anders rushed forward faster than the eye could see.

And promptly found himself on the ground, staring up at Victor.

He noticed something sticking out from the flesh of his thigh.

Growling, he attempted to extend the muscles of his thigh, attempting to set the broken femur back in place.

Before Victor bent down and, digging his fingers deep into the muscles of his thigh, wrapped steely fingers around the bone.

Anders howled in pain, rage and fear.

Victor avoided his thrashing limbs, and dug his fingers in even further.

“You’ll regenerate soon enough, so give the tantrum a rest.”

Rising to his feet once more, he landed another hard kick to Anders’ side, causing him to slide some distance.

“Well, what are you waiting for? We both know what your next play is.”

Anders felt the bone pop back into place, knitting back together along with the muscle.

And he came to the bitter realisation that Victor was indeed right about the only avenue left available.

So he fully took on the visage of the wolf, and took off.

Victor’s mocking laughter echoed behind him.

“Tell Magnus to find me when I’ve brought fire and war to the world.”

2006, 20th January

Reykjavik, Iceland

Hans was not given to overt displays of emotion, so he merely let an overly long breath escape him.

For a man like him, it was a display akin to burying his face in his palms.

“You truly said that, did you?”

Victor amused himself by surveying the waters of Tjornin.

It had been a long time since he had been here.

It had been a long time since he wasn’t involved in one war or another, without the threat of unpredictable violence looming on the horizon.

The one fact that could dampen his mood somewhat.

“Of course. I so rarely get to leave survivors to tell their tales of me. Those tales should be epic, way I see it.”

“Hmm. And this barbaric ritual of yours with the Draugr- how long do you see that taking?”

“It’s not a ritual, simply a festival.”

“You absolutely have to be here?”

“We’re here to see the clan mother on your behalf, remember.”

“Which we could have gotten over with by now if not for your insistence on waiting around for this- ah- festival.”

“It’s much more than that. It’s a part of nature- Nature at its most primal.”

Victor looked at visitors milling around the bank, the avian fauna hoarded around that spot as they were fed by the enthusiastic tourists.

He pulled back his upper lip.

“Nothing like that, obviously. Nature as it should be… In fact, why don’t you come along?”

Hans gave him a look with the faintest of smiles playing around his lips, that told him exactly what he thought of that idea.

Then he shook his head.

“Nature as it should be, Victor? Who decides what nature should be like?”

Victor shot him a curious look.

“Who decides? Nature just… is the way it is.”

“Truly. Look at that pointless exercise over there… feeding those birds that will only survive for 5 years longer at best. Impermanent and irrelevant.”

Hans let his gaze wander over to the people.

“The same could be said of those hollows. Each and every one of them, irrelevant to this grand universe, leading utterly worthless lives and dying without leaving any kind of mark…”

He sighed, “How utterly pointless.”

“That is how it is. Our purpose here is to eat each other, and whoever is left standing has carved themselves in the flesh of the world. Glory isn’t for everyone. Purpose isn’t for everyone. Only the truly worthy rise over the corpses of the scum they had to claw over.”

“And what if it didn’t have to be that way?”

Hans started to pace.

Even in the chill January air, Victor noticed the temperature around the mage drop, sharply.

“The onset of entropy and death, the law of conservation of mass and energy, ironclad rules that the hollows keep slaving around while the likes of you and I can break them with impunity-”

“Calm down.”

Hans stopped pacing.

Apparently, they had attracted attention.

The flock of geese had edged away from the bank they stood on.

Even the tourists had subconsciously given them a wide berth, sensing something inherently wrong in the air about them.

Hans’ expression turned to a mask of neutrality once more.

“Shall we walk onwards?”

“Sure.” Victor agreed easily.

They walked ahead even as the air around the mage began to calm.

“If these hollows weren’t tied down and crippled with arbitrary limitations beyond their control, could they finally have actually worthwhile lives?”

“I already know that’s your endgame. And you already know what mine is.”

“I know our goals are diametrically opposed, yes.”

Victor bared his teeth in a grin.

“I welcome the chance to match my power against a sorcerer.”

Hans' expression was as neutral as ever.

“But not right now.”

“No. Not right now.”

There seemed to be a lot of excitement and commotion behind them, among people and geese alike.

Victor turned to see a seagull swoop away, something small, pale and furry trapped between its talons.

And he smiled to himself in the conviction that his ideals were not simply ideals, but immutable reality.