They took his armor. They photographed his hands, and his face, so that the reddish brown of congealed blood could be shown later to those who were to judge him. They bandaged his hand and gave him pain killers. They brought him to a room and locked him to a chair. Then they left him alone.

Nathan understands at a base level that he does not deserve to grieve. The blond woman who came wailing out of a rushing car had that right. Maybe the officers had that right. He doesn’t. He has left her to die.

Perhaps he had no choice.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter though. The heart wanted to save her, the heart got involved, got invested.

Nathan failed.

The pain he is enduring is not just physical. The weave churns and roils, more obvious to him that it was even only a week ago. Nathan has tried, Nathan had failed and now he is being punished.

And he is grateful for it.

The weave might be filling his chest with the icy fingers of regret but the intensity of it is cathartic, in a way. There is no awkwardness or anxiety, only the grief itself. That is why, even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, Nathan takes what the weave gives.

Kohr caught him off guard, bloodied him, but he survived and through the pain he will be made greater. He had not lacked purpose, but he had certainly lacked focus. No longer. They have trained enough. Now is time to hunt. The weave has created a deficit and Nathan will fill it with the death of the offender.

A sound grates his ears, as annoying and meaningless as a mosquito’s flight.

“…Yes?”

There are two people seated in front of him, a man and a woman. They look like shit, although probably not as much as he does. Bags under the eyes do not compare with maimed finger after all.

The woman may have shoulder length black hair and piercing dark eyes, the man may have the build of a quarterback and an honest face twisted in anger and disgust at the death of a child. Nathan simply doesn’t care. His supply of fucks to give is gone.

“We found you next to the body of one Nora Philipps…”

Nora.

“…Covered in her blood with your own discharged firearm…”

The man grabs an evidence bag containing his trusty teaser, also covered in blood. He has to clean it before the metal is damaged.

“… Know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking you…”

Wonder how the two others are doing. Seren is out cold so at least she will be spared this farce.

“… Got caught in the crossfire…”

Orog managed to hide, no surprise. The red Makka and Seren’s true steel sword were not among the evidence so either he managed to snag them or the little shit stole them and ran away, in which case he’s dead meat. Nathan’s Makka is part of him, he will always be able to find it.

“… Just want to understand…”

The woman is speaking now.

“… Planned an ambush or just came upon them and…”

“I am not interested in talking to you. Please bring me back to the cell.”

Both cops scrunch their face is anger. The man leans forward menacingly over the table, no doubt to curse and swear and threaten.

Nathan borrows from the little core of rage deep inside of his being for a minor misdirection, just a smidge to make his seem immobile while his face moves only a hand span away from the man.

“Listen here…”

“No.”

Both of the clowns in front of him jump in freight.

Nathan moves back with another misdirection when the man lashes out with a reflexive haymaker. The nerves, tiredness and anger probably getting to him.

The attack, of course, misses completely and his partner swears. They look at each other.

Nathan just raises a mocking eyebrow and nods at the camera in the corner. The big detective turns red with shame under his colleague’s furious gaze

Nathan clangs his chain.

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

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Nathan wonders why they put him in the same cell as Barrett. The other two occupants just took a look at his blood stained clothes and wisely decided to retreat to the furthest corner.

“First time here?”

Barrett’s smile is sad but genuine.

“In the slammer, I mean.”

Nathan scoffs.

“I just hope it’s not going to become a habit.”

Barrett laughs softly. Nathan stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Until the weave is done making him pay, he will stay awake and endure.

“Have you ever read Hobbs?”

“The Leviathan?”

“Yes. You probably know how it works. One of my teachers was obsessed with this guy when I was in high school. Ya know, back when dinosaurs were still alive. Anyway the gist of it is, the many sacrifice their right to use force to give it to the government, the Leviathan, so that it protects them. So that the state of constant war and lawlessness ends. The only dudes who can rightfully fuck you up wear uniforms. If anyone else tries, the guys in uniform come for them as well and they always win. Always. That’s how it works, or at least that’s how it works in countries with a reasonably strong state. Well, what I was trying to say is, we are here because we are breaking this. Even if all we did was mostly legal, law enforcement’s first reaction will always be to arrest us, because nobody should break their monopoly on legitimate physical violence.”

“I did not figure you for a philosopher.”

“That’s not philosophy, it’s political science. Did you get my point?”

“I’m not sure…”

“We’re here because you gave Chauham the finger. He or one of his ilk will come now. Play nice or next time will be the same.”

Nathan tries to muster some anger, and fails.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Now. Would you like to know why I joined your little squad and even followed your orders? Even though it grates me that I have to defer to toddlers who weren’t even born when I was knee deep in guts killing VCs?”

“Really? After a month of tactful questions that you evaded every single fucking time, you want to tell me now? Here?”

“So you don’t want to know?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Now, we were both told that hunters can use a variety of magic to fight, but not us. We are still too green, and yet there is that one thing that we manage to do. Right?”

“Mmmmh”

“Yes, that one thing we do instinctively. You ever wondered why? Why that one specific thing?”

“… I’m not sure.”

“Really , after all those lessons you still don’t get it? Let me spell it for you. The weave lets us have our greatest desire.”

Nathan’s pondering silence is interrupted by a small voice, coming from a young Asian man with reddened eyes.

“Can I have some of what you guys are taking? Please?”

Silence.

“Nevermind…”

“Where was I? Ah yes. Do you know how Seren’s mother died?”

“… I never asked, and she never offered.”

“She died in a sky-diving accident. Seren was there. She was fourteen. Her father took her in. She came back to the US a year and half later. She has been independent ever since.”

Silence.

“Control, what she seeks is control. And she got it. She’s probably the most powerful of all of us not just because her power is stupidly strong, but also because she pursued it with a singular focus.”

“… And what do I seek?”

“Understanding. Not in the intellectual sense, but in the emotional one. Empathy increased to supernatural level. To see with your heart what you eyes cannot tell.”

Nathan slowly turns his head to stare at Barrett’s permafrost eyes. Sitting on the bunk with relaxed ease, the veteran looks more like Caesar than ever before.

“This is not the time of the place for this discussion.”

“And I won’t go on. You got my point.”

“How does all of this relate to you joining us?”

“My need is, you guessed it, protection. Let me tell you something. Anyone with any measure of authority in the army, from NCOs to generals, knows that they are sending people into danger. We train them, we equip them, we lead them, we do our very best and they still die. That’s because of how war works. Any schmuck with two hours of training and a rusty pistol can kill a man with enough luck and if there are enough assholes, it will happen. And it did. I lost people again, and again, and again, because I can shoot a bullet but I can’t stop one, and no amount of training will save a man with a sharpened stick in his gut in the armpit of the jungle, you see?”

“… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I reenlisted because of that. I had the belief that if I could train enough people, make them as sharp and seasoned veterans then I would save lives. Every soldier I kill is also one less person shooting at my people. I spent my entire adulthood on this.”

There is no a frightening intensity to Barrett and Nathan finally remembers he is in the presence of a man with a kill count matched by very few, and fewer among those still draw breath.

“It’s kinda ironic don’t you think? At the twilight of my life I finally, finally get the power to stop bullets and spike traps. I should be worrying about where I’m going to fish and the state of my prostate, and yet here we are.”

“But we failed. We failed to protect…”

“Aye, that we did. As I knew we would, at some point. Just like Seren got captured anyway, and therefore controlled. Just like you still don’t know how to handle Chauham. We failed. All of us. It was bound to happen.

That’s what you younglings and greenhorns don’t get. I knew that shield wouldn’t be enough from the start. As long as you try stuff, you will also fail at it. No matter how hard you train and how much you prepare, you will always face failure on the field. Too many variables. I know that, I know it very well, but you still have to accept it. So I will teach you. If you never fail, you have never tried anything meaningful. Because I can, because I’m good at it, and because what your generation will face will be the just as horrible as mine did except if you lose, we all die. I’ll protect you and hold you hand until you don’t need me no more. ”

The weave has now released its hold on Nathan and he feels terribly empty.

“I don’t want it. I don’t want to learn how to accept failure.”

Nora. A pool of blood.

“I don’t want to see this and feel nothing.”

“That’s not what I’ll teach you dumbass. I’ll teach you how to see it and get back up afterward.”

There is a moment of silence while Nathan digests all of this.

“… Thanks Barrett.”

“John”

“Thanks John. I mean it.”

“And you’re welcome. I would have done this before but I wasn’t sure.”

Sleep starts to creep on Nathan’s mind. He yawns.

“What do you mean?”

“The weave, it makes both of you… Different. What do you know about conditioning?”

“Like… Packages?”

“No you birdbrain, mental conditioning.”

“Uuuhhh.”

“It modifies your perspective. The way you think changes on a fundamental level. Every soldier has it to some extent, or they wouldn’t shoot.”

“Huh?”

“Why would you shoot at someone you’ve never met in your life, if you didn’t have your belief system changed? We are taught to control our emotions and avoid overt aggression. Then someone gives you a gun and tells you to kill some random dude. That’s hard. Conditioning helps with that. Even then, some people hesitate. Not you though, you went straight for the jugular.”

“Varogs aren’t people.”

“And Kohr?”

“Kohr ain’t people either.”

“See that’s what I mean, the ability to see a human and instantly strip them of that status. Usually it’s bad news. But then I saw you with the girl.”

“Nora. Her name was Nora.”

“Yes, Nora. I saw you cry Nathan. I knew then, that you were one of us.”

“One of you?”

“People who fight to save rather than to destroy. I had to be sure, you see? Now I am. You’re safe with me Nathan, don’t you worry. Sleep now. I’ll stay right here.”