Beyond the Broken Moon - Black-Mane Becky

April 2068. A new member of the Broken Moon Circus pirate gang muses on the rumors surrounding the two wolf captains he is stuck serving, wondering how much of what is said about them is true.

Jäger sighed. Still hours to go, before he could call it quits. Broom in hand, bucket in the other, cleaning and polishing the corridors of what had been a fifty meters transport vessel, now repurposed as a mobile pirate base. It was his rotten luck which brought him there – his rotten luck and his fascination with the unknown, of course. His broom lazily swept yet another corner, closing in on the captain’s quarters. They were still far enough, but their heavy presence vibrated through the air, a magnetic aura radiated from them. Whenever Jäger strolled by, he’d feel shiver plunging down his spine, his hair traversed by static electricity, all of his senses captured by the smallest movement, the weakest noise. Jäger was, in fact, always on his toes, while roaming that side of the Patchwork Sunrise, nee Martha Grönig. The name change, with annex redecoration and repainting of the ship’s outer shell, wasn’t something that concerned him too much. What concerned him was the reason for that change. And that reason was currently sitting in her cabin, at the end of that long corridor, possibly howling – possibly thinking about the ‘heatmate’ she left behind and acting on that feeling with savage lust, losing herself in her feral longing for that lost pleasure. That was, at least, what his crewmates said. Rumors blared, spread like wildfire, even before he was ‘convinced’ to join the Broken Moon Circus. Nobody knew where or when it started, but stories about them circulated in every port town.

Blood-Cape Lucia and Black-Mane Erzsebet.

Two literal sea wolves, she-wolves even.

Jäger cursed under his breath, kept brushing the tight corridor. It was always a guy with an eyepatch. Of course it was always a guy with an eyepatch who told the best tales. It was a constant. Peg legs were coming back into fashion too, especially now that prosthetics were cheap as heck. But the eyepatch was still a classic, the classic. Jäger sat in a port tavern one too many times, listening to burly tattooed sailors tell their stories and sing their shanties, sharing outrageous, unbelievable adventures with each other. Those sailors, their tales fascinated him, they enticed his spirit of adventure. So, that’s why he was on the Martha Grönig, that day – a rookie journalist trying to score big. The Martha Grönig was the perfect place to be – an armed-to-the-teeth vessel with a high-value, high-security cargo owned by some shady European company. The mission also had the added thrill of sailing through that portion of sea that, according to the rumors, was now the fief of the Broken Moon Circus and its trifecta leadership – Blood-Cape Lucia, Gold-Fin Blade and Black-Mane Erzsebet. Stories of ships and crews lost to them abounded, as abounded tales of the beautiful and terrifying dread captain that led the syndicate. The commoners in Hong Kong shared them with glee and a hint of satisfaction. They said that Gold-Fin Blade was a sharkman whose skin was completely plated with gold and that he ripped off heads with his bare teeth. They said that Blood-Cape Lucia would furiously mate with every male member of the captured crews, before unceremoniously killing them off at the end of the act. They said that Black-Mane Erzsebet drank the blood of the fallen and bathed naked in it, while having her way with her captain and lover in a wild dance of howls.

So many rumors, so many legends. Jäger didn’t believe any of that.

Until, of course, life proved him wrong and the Martha Grönig was captured in a mere fifteen minutes by two raging wolf women that tore through the armor and thrashed all the weapons of the security personnel. They seized the cargo, loaded the crew of the ship on the lifeboats and bid them goodbye… unless someone, anyone, wanted to join their Circus.

Jäger’s first mistake was answering ‘yes’ to that question, hoping to get some prime material for a news outlet and escape his young life of mediocrity. Or, if worse came to worst and the stories about Blood-Cape Lucia were true, to die a honorable death after being savagely mounted by a horny wolf girl. Fortunately for him (or unfortunately, depending on the point of view), it turned out that said tale was just a bunch of bollocks and that Blood-Cape Lucia was pretty mild-mannered, all things considered. And that’s how he ended up sweeping the corridors of the Patchwork Sunrise, now Black-Mane Erzsebet’s very own capital ship on her maiden voyage. So, not only he made the wrong decision, he even drew the short end of the stick – being deployed away from the main Broken Moon Circus fleet, on a freshly retrofitted vessel under the orders of not even the main player.

Talk about great expectations.

He muttered under his breath, clenching his teeth, whispering to the best of his abilities.

“Stuck with a stupid second-rate lesbian furry bitch in the middle of the East China Sea. Good job, Jäger, good job. So much for a rookie mistake.”

If anything, said stupid second-rate lesbian furry bitch looked ridiculous, with those pointy doggy ears of hers, those black sclerae and unnatural golden irises, those gruesome paws she had for hands and feet. That wolf gal sounded like a pirate from old movies whenever she spoke, uttering swearwords with a grotesque accent that sounded, if possible, Eastern European. Her name was a dead giveaway for that – provided it was even her real one.

A creaking sound.

Coming from

the end of the corridor.

Jäger stopped.

A door.

A door was opening.

Slowly.

Surely.

A door to a cabin.

Her cabin.

Jäger felt his heart skipping a beat, swallowed a lump of saliva. A wolf-like foot emerged from it, tapped the metal floor outside of the room. Five claws peeked out of the black fur, with a bone-like shine. As his eyes turned up, the fur gave way to pale human skin, before being covered again by a short, blue one-piece sleeveless dress. And ending up in a curious face. One that was clearly human, despite the black sclerae and the pointy ears whose fur mingled with a neck-length mass of black hair.

Vice-captain Black-Mane Erzsebet.

In the flesh.

In all her threatening aura, her piercing gaze, her…

…what.

Jäger squinted his eyes, blinked twice.

Her… huh, round sight glasses, modified in a way that she could wear them despite her displaced ears. And—huh—a set of padded finger covers, five per hand, completely neutering her claws. And—huh—a book in her paws. A normal book. A novel even. One of those cheap adventure novels that one could buy at any refill station on any random highway. Jäger blinked one more time. Black-Mane Erzsebet, the terror of the sea, the right-hand-woman of Blood-Cape Lucia, her daring, boisterous, merciless lover.

Was wearing reading glasses. Padded finger caps. And was reading a cheap action novel.

That

didn’t compute.

“Jäger, was it?”

Her voice needed a couple of interminable instants to reach his ears, to travel to his brain. So, Jäger needed the same amount of time to elaborate, to provide an answer of sorts.

“Y…yes?”

“Your broom might have something stuck into it, something that scratches the floor every time you sweep it. That’s really painful for my eardrums. Could you… huh, please remove it?”

Before Jäger could reply, his mind gasped. Black-Mane Erzsebet. Was asking him. Gently. To fix his broom.

That… came as out of left field as possible. A completely different picture from the brutal wolf pirate he saw in action, from the dread captain that led the Patchwork Sunrise out of the Hong Kong harbor. Her gaze, though, was as piercing as ever. Those black pupils were still lost in a golden sea, those black sclerae captured his attention, focused it on them. Those eyes were not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Yet, he didn’t even manage to flap his mouth that she started talking again.

“Also, for the record: the next time you call me stupid second-rate lesbian furry bitch, I might or might not have you stripped nude and keelhauled twice in a row. If, afterwards, you really, really want to call me names, it’s fine with me… just don’t imply I’m fucking my friend.”

She gritted her teeth, her fangs shone from the mild darkness she had emerged from. Jäger gulped.

She heard him.

Even if he whispered.

Even if he muttered.

She heard him perfectly.

His heart pounded, his hands closed around the broomstick, desperately gripped it as if their life depended on it.

“I’m… I’m sorry, captain! I…”

That’s when he felt it, the gaze of that curious wolf landing on him, scanning every detail of his face. Too close for comfort. Mere centimeters away from it. Her slow breathing impacted on his skin, her padded claws traced lines on his cheek. Her voice, too, reached his ears. Meek. Sullen. A whisper in the dimly lit shadows that enveloped the corridor.

“You aren’t sorry you said that—you’re sorry that I heard you. You’re scared. But that’s fine. This will make punishing you more interesting…”

He caught a glimpse of her fangs, her elongated canine teeth. Almost like those of a vampire, the jaw of a feral beast ready to rip his throat off. Until, suddenly, her mouth closed. Black-Mane Erzsebet was standing in front of him, with her novel in one hand, the sight glasses in the other, staring at him with her golden eyes. A sudden loud jingle made her ears straighten up, as a jolt of pain travelled through her head, causing her to almost bite her lips. The wolf woman groaned, squinted in the direction of her cabin.

“…goddamnit, I should neuter that microwave.”

“…microwave?”

“Huh-uh, I was cooking myself some herbal tea.”

“Tea?!”

Jäger wore the most puzzled expression he could muster. That whole conversation was verging on surrealism. However it started, it now involved a wolf woman with sight glasses and a cheap action novel cooking tea on a pirate ship with a microwave. That was all the shades of unlikely. Still, said wolf woman was now shrugging, sighing too, pointing her fingers at the door she came from.

“…listen, get into my room, now. I’m not in the mood for staring contests and my ears hurt. You’re not sweeping that floor till I say you do.”

“But I…”

Her pupils shrunk, her eyebrows furrowed.

“That was an order, Jäger. It’s part of your punishment for slandering my name and that of Lucia.”

Jäger’s heart skipped a beat yet again, as the golden irises zeroed on him, as her murderous gaze pierced his façade of self-confidence. His throat ached, his mind blazed into a multitude of fireworks. Was it the moment he had feared? The moment where Black-Mane Erzsebet would mate with him and decapitate him afterwards to feed on his blood? That thought froze him, while simultaneously awakening some sort of unexpected, thrilling sensations running through his body. It was that sensation that moved his legs against his better judgment, that made him slowly walk through the corridor, step by step, centimeter after centimeter. He was reaching for that threshold, a threshold between life and death he was voluntarily crossing. Fear. Excitement. Horror. Arousal. All conflated into a mix that agitated his blood, caused cold sweat to dot his forehead. He breathed. Slowly. He was going to invade the domain of Black-Mane Erzsebet, the unholy room where she slaughtered all of her victims, decorated with their skeletons, entrails and…

And…

…

Pictures of two wolf girls playing basketball on a container ship, while wearing oversized mittens and knock-off NBA fits. Pictures of the same wolf girls tasting cookies together. Pictures of a golden sharkman and a tall, tall, tall woman with dumb sunglasses posing for the camera. Pictures of the same two weirdos and the previous two wolf girls feasting on fishball skewers at a food stall, all dressed in some sort of traditional garb. Pictures of the tall woman carrying one of the wolf girls on her shoulders, while the golden shark carried the other. All happy. All smiling. All doing weird faces.

…

A banjo tucked in the corner. A staple of worn out books too. A huge black metal box with a winged eye symbol plastered on it. More pictures, scattered and arranged in carefully crafted patterns on the cabin’s walls. Plushies. A sewing kit. A small microwave. An electric cooking plate. A old stereo system, whispering music at such a low volume that it didn’t even register at first. Jäger’s eyes were lost in confusion. That

was not

what he expected from the personal quarters of

Black-Mane Erzsebet.

Those pictures. Those decorations. Those common, trivial trinkets told a story way different than what filtered out of it. A big red box bolted to a wall caught his attention, one with a glass plate shielding its unusual content – mittens with handcuffs and a muzzle.

All under a sentence in block letters.

Break in case of heat.

He blinked, squinted his eyes.

That—huh—felt indeed weirder and more in tune with what he heard about that terrible she-wolf of the seas. Still, the contrast between the content of that room and the perceived threatening aura of his boss was something he couldn’t reconcile. Even now, Black-Mane Erzsebet was sitting on a chair, in front of a small table, keeping a ceramic mug in her paws after having shed her glasses. Jäger watched in silence for one second longer, gazing around the cabin one more time. That’s when his sight homed on a mirror, a somewhat shiny mirror hanging on one of the side walls. There, he saw a man in his early twenties, with somewhat tanned skin, gray irises and straight, fairly long light brown hair to complement them. The figure was wearing something resembling a sailor uniform and holding a broom’s handle. That figure was he, of course. He didn’t realize how tired he looked, until his eyes made contact with that reflection of himself.

“Sit down, Jäger.”

His attention was captured by the wolf girl’s command. Jäger stared at her one more time, scanning her from head to toes. She had to be young too, younger than he expected. Probably in her early twenties too. That said, he did not know anything about the biology of wolf girls. She might as well have been five years or two centuries old – appearance alone meant nothing for monsters and demonic creatures. Still, if she were to abide by human canons, early twenties felt like a reasonable approximation of her age. So, almost the same as he, maybe slightly younger, maybe slightly older. Yet, she was his boss. She was the one who called the shots. Thus, he had to comply. His body obeyed almost mechanically, made him sit down before he could even complain. That made him look into her eyes, now free from the influx of the lenses. Gold met gray, as her pupils scanned every centimeter of his figure. Jäger gulped down a lump of saliva. Her gaze was a spear piercing through him, scissors cutting through his clothes, leaving him naked under their spell. He felt as if his skin was fully exposed, as if he could hold no secrets in front of those inquisitive eyes.

“Relax, I don’t bite. Usually. Unless I’m in heat. In that case, I bite a lot. But I’ve already been in heat in February, so you’re safe. I guess. I hope.”

She sipped the content of her mug, let out something resembling a yelp.

“…I don’t have a full grasp on how my body functions, but you shouldn’t be in danger of being jumped on for at least seven, eight months longer.”

She tapped the cover of a small teapot, moved it towards him.

“Please, have some too. You must be thirsty.”

“What… what is it?”

“Herbal tea of lime and curcuma, with some additional ginger sprinkled in. Oh yeah, a bit of catnip too.”

Jäger stared at the pot, which stared back at him, as if mocking him for his indecisiveness. For what he knew, that drink could be spiked or drugged. For what he knew, Black-Mane Erzsebet was pulling a cruel prank on him, forcing him to sacrifice his life for his insult by drinking a cup of deadly poison.

“I’ll pass, captain.”

“You sure? Your loss, then.”

The wolf girl shrugged, sipped more of her tea, glanced back at the novel lying on the table. She squinted her eyes, put on her sight glasses again, sighed gravely, pulled them off again, closed the book. Jäger took notice of that strange ritual, one he could not fully grasp.

“Isn’t it ironic? I can see each of your skin pores and the patterns on your iris, but it hurts my eyes to read small text too close. I’ve become far-sighted after turning into… this. I can’t get accustomed to it. But Lucy doesn’t have the same problem, so why? Why did I draw the short end of the stick?”

She caressed the cover of the novel, before sipping some of her tea again, with a sequence of graceful motions, one that ended with a tired smile. Jäger couldn’t avert his gaze from her figure, from her delicate features. Her eyes had a magnetic hold on him. Those pointy ears of hers, slightly twitching, made him feel like patting them. That would have been akin to suicide, but the curiosity was there, nagging at him every second longer. He moved his hand a little forward, just a little, before retracting it almost immediately. Black-Mane Erzsebet noticed it, smirked at him.

“But, speaking of you… you were a journalist, right?”

Jäger stared at her blankly for a couple instants, before nodding almost automatically.

“…I was, yes. For a local Thai newspaper.”

“Good.”

The wolf woman put the mug down on the table, carefully maneuvering with her weird paws and finger covers. Then, her gaze pierced Jäger again, with an even more inquisitive look.

“Then, I have a task for you: help me find whoever spread those rumors about me.”

Jäger blinked once, twice. The primeval fear that had chilled his bones now replaced with some sort of fake confidence, fake courage that helped him cope with the situation at hand.

“You’ll have to be more specific, captain. There are, like, dozens of rumors.”

As a response, Erzsebet crossed her paws under her chin, without ever breaking eye contact.

“The ones about me and Lucy being ‘heatmates’.”

“Huh?”

“Stories about Lucy and I having sex during our heat seasons spread like wildfire. Because, of course, if two women get close and become friends, they surely must be lesbian and fuck, right? I’m so tired of this trope. Nobody stops and thinks that Lucy and I can just be, you know, very good friends. No, since we are two wolf women in our twenties, we surely need to mate like wild beasts, tangle our tongues and ravage each other while dancing the horizontal tango!”

Her teeth gritted, her breath ragged. Erzsebet’s fangs shone in the lights of her cabin, as her irises seemed to faintly glow every word more.

“This sickens me! It’s already annoying when people do that about fictional characters, but we’re living people – flesh and blood! Isn’t this, like, completely insanely deranged? We’ve already put a bounty on the head of the bastard who started spreading that rumor, but it’s hard to find out who did what! It’s a web of lies, of unsaid words, of internet posts and uncontrolled whispers. If you still have connections, Jäger, I want you to use them. I want you to help me find who made up this lie!”

Her voice trembled, her teeth ground against each other, her muscles tensed. Jäger could feel it, the unyielding rage flowing through every fiber of her being. He breathed slowly, tried to control his heartbeat. Finding the origin of such a widespread rumor was akin to looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. Once a rumor spread and became news, which in turn became ‘accepted truth’, there was no way to put it back in the bottle and stop its expansion. No matter what the source was, no matter who started it – now it was ‘common knowledge’ that Blood-Cape Lucia and Black-Mane Erzsebet were deranged, sex-crazed horny lovers. Even if that wasn’t right, it was the only ‘truth’ that mattered to the people. Saying that, though, would have probably netted him the first decapitation of the day (most likely the last too). Still, the idea of just answering ‘yes’ and not working on the task he was assigned was equally dangerous – no way she would have not kept pestering him about updates, only to decapitate him when he didn’t have any progress to report. A true screwed if you do, screwed if you don’t situation. Jäger clenched his fists. Cursing under his breath was out of the question, since she could definitely, totally hear him. Calm and steady. That was the way to go. Calm and steady. There had to be an angle that saved his hide.

There had to be a

His brain flashed, stung by a blazing epiphany, one so outrageous he couldn’t believe it came from it. A grin almost automatically opened on his face, in a crazed, almost blissfully evil fashion.

“If I may, captain… what if you just ride the rumors and make them crazier?”

“…make them crazier?”

Black-Mane Erzsebet squinted her eyes, sipped more of her tea, lowered her ears a little.

“…but I don’t want them to be crazier. I want them to…”

Jäger’s voice thundered, echoed in the small room with the roar of a raging storm. He rose up to his feet, pumping his fist in the air.

“Imagine this! There’s already a lot about you around, but what if you went the extra mile! Not just any cruel pirate, but the cruelest pirate of the East China Sea! The black wolf that sinks ships and slaughters sailors, mating with all of the survivors of the captured vessels, killing all who don’t satisfy her and bathing in their blood! The feral beast that enthralled Blood-Cape Lucia and made her her puppy, while building a vast harem for her personal pleasure and collecting treasures beyond belief! A beauty never tarnished by wounds, exposing her naked skin to the storm with no regards for modesty! The last most striking picture you’ll see before dying on her bed!”

She blinked, slowly, closed her paws around the mug. Trembling. Her whole body was trembling. Still, her voice was deadpan, almost devoid of humanity.

“…one more word and I’ll use you for target practice.”

Jäger winced, his whole momentum dampened.

“T–target practice?”

Her eyes darted in the direction of the big black box, the one leaning on the wall, marked with a familiar biblical angel logo.

“Learning to aim and shoot with these hands is hard and I need training, especially after our latest acquisition.”

Jäger gulped, his voice tried to take shape, to exit his throat – failing at it, turning into a mashed pulp of vowels and consonants, stuttering over and over.

“B—But…”

That smirk. Black-Mane Erzsebet smirked with an expression that would have killed whoever watching it for too long. And, as her grimace turned even more demonic, three words escaped her lips – as sharp as knives.

“Thanks for volunteering.”

A chuckle, her tongue licking her lips with glee.

“Your willing sacrifice become part of my crazed bloodthirsty maniac legend, as you wished.”

Her eyes locked with Jägers, savored his fear, his staggered movements, his sanity breaking down every second faster.

“Now, should I mate with you, as a last act of mercy? I’m craving for some intimate action, before shooting you dead and riddling your skull with bullets.”

She shoved him against the wall, pushing him violently. Her paws pinned him against the rough metallic surface, all her body weight stopped him from moving. Jäger’s face was conquered by a pale mask of terror, cold sweat flowed all over his forehead, his teeth almost clattering in a concerto of dread. Black-Mane Erzsebet kissed his cheek, licked it, her tongue almost reaching for his eye. Her fang shone in the lights of her room as her knee rubbed Jäger’s belly, slowly moving down, one centimeter at a time.

Before she burst into laughter so loud it echoed around all the corridors, spreading through the ship, reverberating all over the hull. Jäger’s soul had stopped short of leaving his body, tenuously keeping a connection with his mortal coil. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding like a drum set during a metal concert, his muscles shaking and twitching. And she was laughing. Laughing in his face, almost bent in half by that much laughter, fighting against the urge to laugh even more.

“Sorry, sorry!”

And, with that, she bursted into laughter again. Genuine, amused, crystalline laughter.

“I was joking, Jäger! I was just joking! Was my act convincing?”

Convincing didn’t begin to describe it. Jäger almost browned his pants – almost, all while preparing to exhale his final breath, to die eaten alive by a wolf girl. That violence. That evil grimace. That was beyond anything he had ever experienced. For a second, for a moment, maybe just for an instant, Black-Mane Erzsebeth was ready to kill him for real. Yet, now she was laughing her lungs off, staring at his broken vessel crashing down into pieces.

“…that was…”

“I’ll take it as a yes.”

She winked at him, beamed with joy too.

“Alright, I get it! I get it! It’s just playing a character like I did it now, right? This isn’t stupid, Jäger! I’m already playing a role, after all! Did you really think my name is ‘Erzsebet’? Heck, I don’t even know how it is pronounced! Lucy gave it to me to protect me, so, in a way, I’m already knee deeps into a fake identity!”

She clapped her paws, jumped in place, switching between her legs.

“Right! The rumors are about Black-Mane Erzsebet and Blood-Cape Lucia, not about the real me and Lucy! That’s a good angle! Why didn’t I think about it before?”

She grabbed Jäger’s shoulders again, stared at him right into his eyes.

“I still want you to help me find the source of those stories, if you can… but, at the same time?”

A wide grin opened on her face, as her irises shone.

“Spread more rumors. Make them crazier, more outrageous, more exaggerated! Tenfold? Hundredfold? Heck, even more! Oooh, I can see it! I can totally see it! Black-Mane Erzsebet, the ruthless wolf captain that terrorizes China by skewering hundreds of sailors on the bow of her galleon and keelhauling their corpses, after shooting down their ship from miles away with her dead sister’s rifle! Bathing in their blood too, as you said! Wait, that’s unhygienic, isn’t it? Whatever, it’s par for the course for a true villain! So, so let’s add some decapitations and dismemberment too! And sex! Sex sells it! Group sex! Mating with all of the captive crew members at once before killing them, girls included! And keeping some of them as concubines, while drinking their blood every day to remain young forever too! And! And add some bondage too! Spiked collars! Chains! Whips! And weapons! Lots of weapons and creepy torture stuff! I’ll need a new costume! A shameless new costume, with lots of leather straps, golden studs and exposed skin! Well, no, not so much exposed skin, maybe! I’m not Lucy, I can’t go full frontal! It’s too embarrassing right? But the right amount of dark and sexy… Aaaaah, I can’t wait to start sewing it! And put on some eyeliner! Mascara! Eyeshadow! To make myself more mysterious! Darker! True terror incarnate! We’ll do some staged photoshoots too with fake theater props! That will spread the story faster! It will be a blast, much more terrible and terrifying than whatever is already told around!”

Her eyes. Her eyes were glimmering. She was enjoying every second of that fantasy power trip, almost as if she were building a character for an old fashioned tabletop game campaign.

“Go ham! Anything goes as long as it is shocking! You’ll spread these stories every time we land, in every place you eat or drink! You’ll be out bard of anarchy, our envoy of chaos! Of course, everything except being Lucy’s heatmate or anything involving Lucy! Yes, it can work! It can work! Drown that horrifying rumor in more outlandish rumors, making that sound tame!”

She smirked one more time, stopped talking to catch her breath. A whisper, one so low that Jäger couldn’t listen to, one still loud enough she could hear her own words, her own doubts, her own issues.

“…why am I getting so excited about playing the villain…? This doesn’t sound very Becky. Maybe, I should ask Tianny about it…? Or Lucy…?”

Her fingers closed around the mug she had left on the table, feeling the warmth of the herbal tea still waiting for her inside it. She glanced at it, let out a long sigh.

“…you are dismissed, Jäger. Please, check your broom before sweeping the corridor. There has to be something inside it that scratches the floor, maybe a shard of metal. Remove it before starting to clean again, alright?”

“B—but…”

“Now, excuse me but I need to unpack my latest treasure for target practice and prepare it for its first shot. It will take some time before it’s ready.”

Jäger’s eyes stopped on the big black box with the winged eye logo. That was the cargo the Martha Grönig was carrying. That was the cargo the militia soldiers were hired to protect, among other winged-eye-logo’d crates. But that was also the only box in that shipment that Black-Mane Erzsebet kept for herself. A crate that contained something she didn’t want to sell on the black market.

“Captain, I…”

“Hush. Do your job and leave me alone, alright? Unless you want me to kill you for real.”

Jäger fell silent, nodded weakly, slowly crawled away from the wall, keeping the broom’s handle in his still shaky hands, glancing one more time in the direction of that weird wolf girl he had to call captain. Under his gaze, her paws caressed the black surface, followed the lines of the seals, covering the eye of the biblical angel staring at her. Her voice turned low again, lower that it had been until that moment, so low that Jäger could just assume she was saying something. But, again, her own ears picked up that impossibly low tune, letting her talk with herself.

“I’ve got a date with Duke Leto, now. I can’t let him wait…”

Something flowed on her cheek. A tear. A single tear falling down her skin.

“…right, Katja?”

The tear fell on the floor, with a barely audible splash,

Yet, no answer came.

Only the cold touch of the black metal case.