It was the final day of Frostbyte’s excursion. All the equipment was packed and was already on its way back to its proper location, one of the dozens of warehouses under Frostbyte ownership. Everyone was scrambling in their own way to get everything settled and ready to leave.
The corporate workers, headed by Shepherd and Philman, were giving closing interviews to every employee involved to gather input and find any improvements on future trips. The research teams were all compiling their information, as well as settling their individual bets as to who would log the most information—Amir coming out on top thanks to his crack team. Derrek, as the one who organized the project, was meeting with Mila in her office to square away any extra expenses they had accrued in the past month.
“What I don’t get,” Mila said, “is how nobody, save for you, even so much as opened their minibars the entire time you were here.”
“Company policy dictates that each employee is given a one-hundred-dollar stipend per week when traveling abroad, but it is made very clear that minibars are excluded from that and must be paid for with personal funds. If I were to guess, it’s second nature for them to ignore them entirely.”
Mila groaned slightly. “I know, I know. I just have profit margins to worry about. This place essentially hemorrhages money.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Maybe the gold-trimmed fountains weren’t the best investment.”
“I stand by them,” she said without hesitation.
The two had a laugh and Mila continued. “So, do you want to get your debt squared away while we’re here?”
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“Let me guess, Discord was the one who ran up your tab? Doesn’t surprise me. He always attacks other people’s minibars.”
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I meant. I wanted to extend my stay.”
“Oh? For how long?”
“I put in a request for a month of vacation time, but if you’d rather I leave, I completely understand.”
Mila leaned back in her chair, laced her fingers over her desk, and looked at Derrek for several seconds in thought. After releasing her hands from each other, she sighed. “You’ve caused no trouble since coming here. Discord said he would stay for as long as you do, and as long as he’s here to keep an eye on you, I guess you can stay as long as you like.”
“If you honestly don’t want me here, I don’t mind leaving. I’m sure my mailbox is about stuffed full of junk mail by now.”
Mila laughed. Then, smiling, she said, “It’s fine, I trust him, and I have no reason not to trust you. Just keep your nose clean, and we won’t have any problems.”
Derrek smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Müller. I’ll do my best.”
“With that out of the way and the bills figured out, is there anything else I can help you with?”
Derrek gathered the receipts they had been going through and stood up from his chair. “I think that covers it. Thank you for your time, and have a nice day!”
Mila narrowed her gaze and scowled at him. “Mighty bold of you to say that to a vampire.”
Derrek’s eyes widened in realization of what he had said. He tried to search for the right words, but after a solid five seconds of staring blankly at her, Mila laughed, reached over the desk, and slapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m just messing with you. Have a nice day, Derrek.”
He smiled back at her, relieved, and turned toward the door. The lobby was packed with Frostbyte employees buzzing about, working as fast as they could to get everything in order. There was a flood of faces that Derrek vaguely recognized carrying thousands of pounds of luggage and equipment to the shuttles and just as many packing the conference rooms, trying to get their forms and GENRAM results compiled.
It was total controlled chaos, yet it filled Derrek with determination. Seeing all those people doing this work, along with each and every one of them truly believing they were making a difference in the world, gave him hope. He had his doubts, but at that moment, he knew if the people kept their resolve, he’d be able to keep the vision that Shale had worked so hard to craft.
“Something to behold, isn’t it?” Said a raised, gruff voice from beside him, which Derrek saw belonged to Jeffrey.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Derrek said, “even after that turmoil in ’31, it still doesn’t compare in my eyes.”
“It’s like this at the end of every trip, everyone running around like headless chickens trying to tie up all their loose ends. Always reminds me of boot. Good times,” Jeffrey said with a nostalgic smile.
“So what’s the plan for your truck? Do you have an exporter lined up?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a few favors lined up at Sigonella, so I’m just gonna hitch a ride back to the states from there.”
“Got room for your couch?” Derrek asked coyly.
“Huh?” Jeffrey said with a confused look on his face.
“The couch. The one you bought in Turkey. Antique.”
Jeffrey suddenly remembered his story from before. “Oh yeah, gotta swing into town to get it from the storage place. They’re cool with me bringing it.”
“Good to hear,” Derrek said, stone-faced.
Jeffrey looked around the crowd nervously, apparently looking for an out, until Derrek spoke up again.
“When’re you planning on heading out?”
Jeffrey’s nerves suddenly calmed, and he responded, “Probably in about a half-hour. How about you? Gonna ride in those sardine cans? I’m sure you could get a taxi if you got the cash for it.”
“Actually,” Derrek said, “I’m staying for a little while longer. I just came from setting up the arrangements with Ms. Müller.”
“Oh really?” Jeffrey said, putting his hands on his hips and smiling. “Derrek Snowe taking a vacation? Now I’ve seen it all!”
The two shared a brief laugh. Derrek said, “It had to happen sometime, right? I just think some time off will help to get me into the right headspace for what’s ahead.”
Jeffrey put his hand up. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just glad you’re taking some time for yourself. You’re one of the hardest-working sons of bitches I’ve ever met. You’re gonna do Shale proud, Derrek.”
He extended his hand, which Derrek grabbed without hesitation and shook. Jeffrey took notice of how firm it was, but he could tell he was holding back. He wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but he could tell whatever Discord was doing was helping.
Jeffrey let go of Derrek’s hand and checked his watch. After seeing the time, he said, “Shit, I gotta pack.”
“You’re leaving in a half-hour and you still haven’t packed?”
“What can I say? I work best under pressure.”
“Well, if I don’t see you before you leave, hopefully I’ll see you around.”
“You’ll be seeing me all right. I head to HQ every month or so for a tune-up, so this ain’t the last you’ve seen of me, bucko.”
Derrek smiled. “Glad to hear it. I’ll be seeing you, Major.”
Jeffrey smiled back and gave a halfway salute before heading toward the elevator, fading away into the ocean of people. Derrek still needed to meet with Shepherd and Philman for an exit interview since it was his first time in the field, so he weaved his way through the crowd and made his way toward the conference room where they met before. He entered to find Shepherd and Philman speaking with Amir and was unsettled when they all fell silent upon seeing him.
“Ah, Derrek,” Shepherd began, “right on cue. We were just talking about you.”
Philman turned to her and gave her an annoyed look. “Snitch.”
She turned back. “Asshole.” Then he turned back to Derrek and continued, “I take it you’re ready for your closer?”
“Yes, ma’am—if I’m not interrupting anything, of course,” Derrek said, referring to Amir, who raised his hand in a stop gesture.
“It is no worry at all,” Amir said. “I was simply catching up with old friends. The three of us were part of the same research team several years ago.”
“Oh?” Derrek asked. “Where did you go?”
Philman grinned. “Somalia, China, Nepal, Canada, Brazil—it might actually save time if we just tell you where we didn’t go!”
“It was just those five,” Shepherd chimed in, glaring at him.
Philman conspicuously rolled his eyes and under his breath said, “Buzzkill.”
There was a brief moment of tension, which was shattered by Amir’s hearty laughter. He walked up behind the two of them and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Just like old times! It always amazes me how much the two of you get done—even at each other’s throats!”
Shepherd cracked a smile, which Philman met with a renewed grin, and the three shared a laugh. The moment hung for a few seconds before Amir let go and began to walk toward the door.
“I should go. There is work to do and people to meet. I will see you two next time. And Lewis, I do hope you will bring some of your famous peanut brittle then.”
“Peanut brittle?” Derrek asked.
“That’s right!” Philman exclaimed triumphantly. “Best brittle in Manchester eight years running!”
Shepherd looked like she was going to dispute him, but she quickly decided against it and instead said, “It’s pretty good.”
Stolen story; please report.
Derrek was surprised to hear anything positive about Philman come from her, and he made a mental note to try it someday. He turned to say goodbye to Amir, who already had his hand extended.
“You did an excellent job, Derrek. I hope to work with you again someday.”
Derrek shook his hand. “I hope so, too. It’s been a pleasure, Amir.”
After letting go, Amir went to the door, gave one last smile to the three, and left, briefly letting in the noise coming from the lobby, which was quickly muffled by the thick walls. Derrek decided now was a good time to take a seat, and he sat across from the two with his hands laced on the table.
“So,” Shepherd said, rifling through some papers, “were you at any time during work hours injured in a way that affected your ability to do your job?”
Derrek was instantly reminded of his scuffle with Boyd and how his spine had been, according to Discord, dislodged. He hadn’t experienced any pain, though, so he said, “No, I haven’t.”
Shepherd nodded. “Have you had any altercations, verbal or otherwise, with any of your coworkers?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Did you encounter any hostile wildlife or forces?”
“Aside from a couple of boars, no, ma’am.”
“Oh, yeah,” Philman interjected. “I forgot you had that in your report. Nice work. Not many would have the balls to try something like that.”
Shepherd didn’t say anything in response, but she did nod. “Last one: Is there anything you can think of that you believe would improve efficiency in future operations?”
Derrek looked up and scratched his head in thought for several seconds, leaving Shepherd and Philman in suspense, until it hit him.
“One of my teammates, Hanna, had these homemade blowguns with tranquilizer darts. That’s how we got the boar samples. I was thinking these could be used for the same purpose for a variety of animals, instead of relying on loose fur and droppings for analysis.”
Philman chucked at the word droppings and was swiftly kicked under the table by Shepherd, who was intently listening to Derrek’s suggestion.
“I believe,” he continued, “that providing these to all teams, as well as classes teaching how to use them, could increase productivity by a noticeable margin.”
Shepherd shifted her glance straight ahead of her, looking past Derrek, staring at the wall, unmoving except for her eyes rapidly darting around, following something only she could see. After several seconds, during which not even her breathing was discernible, she grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper and began scribbling formulas at a lightning pace.
Once she was satisfied with her results, she looked up at Derrek. “I’ll bring it up with our superiors, but I think I can make a good case for it. This sounds very promising, and I’m confident it’ll look great on your portfolio.”
“Oh,” Derrek said, “I don’t want to take credit for it. Hanna was the one who had the idea. She deserves it.”
Shepherd and Philman shared a look, then looked back to Derrek.
“Are you sure?” Philman asked. “You’ve got a lot to gain here.”
“Nothing bugs me quite like someone taking credit for something they didn’t do. I’d much rather stay where I am now than be a hypocrite.”
Philman was taken aback, but after a brief moment, his lips spread in a smile. “Understood. Your name will stay off the proposal, and Mrs. …” He paused and looked over a paper Derrek took to be a list of names, then continued, “Hammel will receive full credit.”
Shepherd looked at Philman with surprise, or perhaps admiration, at this singular moment of humanity. She briefly smiled, then turned her attention back to Derrek. “That’s all we had to cover. You’re officially off the clock and free to start your vacation.”
Derrek stood to leave and shook both their hands. “Thank you very much. I look forward to working with you both in the future.”
“Considering how you rocked your first field mission, I’d bet money on it,” Philman said. “See you around.”
“I hate to say it,” Shepherd said, “but I agree with him. You did a great job. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”
Derrek nodded knowingly, then left, leaving Shepherd and Philman alone in the conference room. They stewed in silence for almost a full minute before Philman decided to break it.
“So … wanna grab a drink?”
Shepherd glared at him. “You realize we’re leaving the country in about four hours, three of which we’ll be spending on a shuttle, don’t you?”
“Yeah … I guess you’re right.”
Shepherd collected her papers and headed toward the door. She had her hand on the doorknob when she stopped in her tracks. She sighed deeply. “After we give our final report in New York, one drink.”
Philman smiled. “Sounds like a plan, Becky.”
She groaned, then quickly left the room, soon followed by Philman as they loaded up onto their shuttle.
Derrek had his affairs in order and was set to meet Discord for an early lunch in the dining hall, which was staggeringly empty. He was used to being the only table for breakfast, but the entire room was almost always packed past noon. He saw Discord sitting calmly at their usual table, sipping what looked like espresso, staring out the window. He approached the table and took his seat across from him, who was still fixated on the landscape. Half a minute had passed before he spoke.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he finally said. “A hundred years ago, if you told me I’d be sipping coffee across from the Devourer in a hotel run by fangs, I’d probably break your arm giving you the best high-five ever heard.”
“The only part of that I find hard to believe is that you’re drinking coffee.”
The two laughed as Emmett came up to their table, holding a bottle of Steel Barrel.
“May I top you off, Herr Discord?”
“Greatly appreciated. Thank you, choir boy!” Discord said as Emmett filled his cup.
“Called it,” Derrek said as Emmett handed him a menu.
After Discord finished downing his cup, he said, “He’ll take the chicken schnitzel and the pommes frites, same as me.”
Derrek gave Discord a sideways glance, before handing his menu back to Emmett.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s delicious, and if it’s no trouble, I could go for some coffee as well—the same way he takes his,” he said, gesturing to Discord.
“Right away, Herr Snowe, half decaf, half fifty-year Steel Barrel.”
After Emmett walked away, Derrek looked at Discord. “Decaf, really?”
“Eh, caffeine mixes weird. It’s more about the coffee taste than the coffee pickup.”
“That sounds pretty good.”
“Well, duh, I’ve got impeccable taste,” Discord said, grinning widely.
Emmett returned, Derrek’s drink in hand, which he placed in front of him.
“Here you are, Herr Snowe. Your meals will be out shortly. Is there anything I can help you gentlemen with?”
“No, thank you,” Derrek said, “I appreciate it.”
Emmett warmly smiled and nodded, then quickly walked away. Derrek took a sip from his cup and was hit with the rich coffee with the earthy undertones of the whiskey dancing on his taste buds. He was delighted by the taste and proceeded to sip it alongside Discord as the two stared out the window for a few minutes.
Derrek eventually broke the serene silence and asked, “How long do you think it’ll be until I can return to regular life? I’ve only got so many vacation days.”
“Dunno,” Discord said, finishing off his cup. “As I keep saying, uncharted territory and whatnot. You can already control yourself when you devour, which I’d argue is a damn good step, but you still can’t summon it by will. We might be able to get you there in the next week, or you might never be able to do it when you want. We’ll only really know when we know, y’know?”
Derrek looked slightly disappointed, which Discord took notice of. He set his cup on his saucer. “Don’t worry, Havok. Even if you never get the hang of it, you’ll be fine. And I’ll be around in case you aren’t.”
Derrek looked him in the eye. “To kill me?”
“To talk you down. I don’t want to kill you.”
“But you will if you have to, right?”
“Yep.”
A silence fell over the two that hung in the air for several seconds until Discord spoke again.
“The first devourer I killed was human—when she was born, I mean. I happened to be staying in the village where she lived for a few years, mostly waiting for the next war to come around, when farm stock and pets started to die, their corpses charred beyond recognition. The villagers thought it was a god taking its own sacrifices, but I think you can guess what it actually was.
“I don’t know what caused it, maybe she got careless, maybe she was getting ballsier, but she ended up consuming a human, and that was all she wrote. She went crazy that night and went hut to hut, devouring everything that moved. Unfortunately, mine was on the outskirts, so I didn’t know until it was too late.
“She couldn’t have been older than fifteen, but she gave me no other choice but to put her down. She couldn’t be reasoned with, and there was no way to take her out without killing her, so I did my best to be swift.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Derrek asked.
“Because she lost control after eating a single human. You ate a reaper, something infinitely stronger than a human, and just kinda shook it off. I genuinely believe you’ll be fine.”
Derrek met his eyes and saw sincerity, and he felt better. He cracked a smile as he was hit with a wafting scent of chicken, and he looked up to find Emmett holding two plates, which he placed before them. Atop their plates were two large portions of fried chicken fillets, alongside a pile of perfectly golden fries.
“Our chicken schnitzel, a simple dish but an effective one, especially when paired with our pommes frites, made from only the finest potatoes. Will you gentlemen require anything else?”
“I think we’re good, choir boy. Thank you kindly.”
Emmett smiled and nodded, then left their table, leaving the men to their meals.
Derrek picked up one of his fries. “Pommes frites … French fries?”
“Yep, fresh-cut too, not those frozen ones.”
“You could’ve just said fried chicken and French fries.”
“And da Vinci could’ve called the Mona Lisa ‘Mildly Happy Woman.’ Art deserves respect, my friend.”
Derrek didn’t reply but did nod his head, understanding where he was coming from. He bit into the fry he had been inspecting and was greeted with the perfect amount of crunch along with the hot potato middle. It was perfectly salted, and he immediately understood why Discord respected them the way he did.
“Pretty good, right?”
“Yeah, you were right.”
“Try the chicken.”
Derrek took his advice and cut a piece off of his filet with his fork and knife. He was struck by how tender it was, along with the subtle lemon zing basted into the crispy shell.
“I have to give it to you,” he said. “You do have impeccable taste.”
“Glad to hear it,” Discord said, picking at his plate. He ate a few fries of his own. “I hate to ruin it, but there’s something you should know.”
“Huh?” Derrek asked in the middle of chewing a bite of schnitzel. After swallowing he said, “What is it?”
Discord took a deep breath, then asked, “Do you know what poachers are?”
“Probably not in the context you mean.”
“Fair point. Poachers in ‘weird’ terms are people who hunt down and destroy anything supernatural just because it’s inhuman. They’re huge racists in the most literal of terms.”
“Damn,” Derrek said, “so that’s what Mila was worried about. Do you think they’re coming for the Schadenfreude?”
Discord shook his head. “I’m not sure. There’s at least eighty of them congregating in France. They could be rearing up to attack the hotel. They could be having their annual jackass meetup. Hell, they all could have just been separately following the same lead—it’s too early to tell. For a bunch of eugenic asshats, they’re good at covering their tracks.”
“Do … do you think they’re after me?”
“I doubt it. You’ve been maintaining a low profile, and I haven’t caught their scent around these parts. Mila’s been careful too. She’s been off their radar for years. You never know, though. Those shitstains are like damn bloodhounds.”
Discord silently ate another handful of fries as Derrek looked upon him with a combination of worry and fear for the safety of the hotel. He gathered his conviction. “Then we’ll keep doing what we’re doing, staying safe and quiet. And if they catch on, we’ll fight them off.”
Discord looked up from his plate and saw the seriousness in Derrek’s eyes. He grinned. “You’re goddamn right. I’ll keep my ear to the ground. We’ll keep whipping you into shape, and we should be golden.”
Derrek raised a fry for a toast, which Discord met with one of his own.
“To the Schadenfreude,” they both said before eating their respective fries.
They continued their meal, discussing their plans for training, Discord leaning heavily toward throwing boulders at Derrek and hoping for the best. They went back and forth with ideas, dropping the subject once the dining hall began to fill for the lunch rush. They laughed as they ate, and Emmett kept their mugs filled with coffee and whiskey.
Derrek could tell he was going to enjoy his vacation, even with all the training.