It felt a little strange just accepting that they’d simply “shipped him off” after all the work Fangbreaker Platoon had done to get into the base. She knew she didn’t “own” Bogdan, not like how she sort of “owned” Yevhen through their bargain, but she’d expected that he’d have reinforced the unit. After she thought about it she realized how foolish that was; they were already assigned a fang that could deal with a platoon of soldiers, a dozen tanks, or a few lesser Nabokovs. Bogdan had a Hellhound, and that made him the kind of asset that Arcadian military was going to assign to take out big targets; Bogdan had made short work of their own assets in his hound, and at their upper limits a hound was comparable to a tactical missile strike or a high end destroyer. That sort of power was a mismatch for her platoon, but it still felt like they’d robbed her of something.
At first, Kaz had also thought her command structure would have been upset with the loss of the Perths and the other mechs in the platoon, but to the bean counters, the price of a few mechs were hardly a drop in the bucket compared to the windfall of a fang with a Hellhound (even one as junky as Bogdan’s). While numbers weren’t her thing, Kaz had been told that a hound was worth the price of an aircraft carrier. In thanks for their efforts, command had somehow managed to get enough beef for a thick, oily stew that just oozed flavor and aromatics, served over rice, for the entire unit. She’d have called it a goulash, but it was too thick and it seemed to contain every seasoning the cooks in the kitchen had. They’d even put out some solid, hearty, whole grain bread and it was thick enough to sop up the oily sauce. Her mouth was watering as she sat down next to the Captain and Zora, but she held off long enough to tell him what was on her mind.
“We gotta figure out a better way to fight fangs,” she said matter-of-factly. It’d been on her mind ever since the battle against Bogdan and Mithris. “We were basically just bystanders while ‘Chuckles’ here fought Bogdan.”
Yevhen, from his coffin in the basement of Starymost Base, did indeed chuckle darkly in a smug, satisfied way in her mind. The fang was always listening, and as soon as the sun set he’d be free to loom over her with that amused expression she hated so much. He was waiting for her to mess up so he could be free and unleash as much hell as he wanted. She could only beat him by living, and she intended to do that for as long as possible, mostly just to annoy him.
The Captain nodded, sitting across from her on what used to be a picnic table, reading a tablet as he ate. Zora was sitting there too, keeping to herself as usual but listening in on what everyone said. She felt like a wallflower to Kaz, someone who wasn’t confident enough to speak but absorbed the experience of just being around others.
Kaz devoured her stew, the stringy beef having been slow-cooked for hours. It must have been torture for the people working in the kitchen to smell it all day. They’d repurposed a lot of things for the mess from an evacuated and bombed-out school; even the trays they were eating on were sized for kids. Reynolds was not a big man, maybe 5’9” or 5’10” and not particularly broad, but even the Captain made the kids’ stuff look small by comparison. The whole thing made her feel like she was back in school eating with friends, and the reminder that Starymost Base was literally in a bombed-out city made the scene all the stranger.
“I was thinking the same thing, Kaz. We gotta shift our unit composition to reflect the reality of the situation on the ground.”
“So, what, we get suits and carry towels and bloodpacks for Yevhen like butlers or something?”
“I’d never ask such a thing of you, my master. A maid’s uniform would be much more fitting.” She had decided Yevhen could go and shove it for now, so she gave him a mental middle finger.
“Not exactly. But big artillery batteries like the Perths are out of the question. Our strengths are going to be in scouting, getting out of the way, and providing long range support,” the Captain explained as he passed what he’d been reading over to her across the picnic table. He mopped up the remains of his meal with the crusty bread as she looked over the tablet.
Zora replied sheepishly, “I worked on that with the Captain. We can’t fight this like a normal war. We can realistically just fight the human elements while vampiric assets, uh, well, they can fight each other.”
The tablet had a rough force organization chart. It included eight Mackay scouts, two more than what they used to have; the two HOGs with their soldiers for infantry work; and four Brisbane-class mechs.
“We’re taking 4 Brizes?” Kaz asked, wrinkling her nose. No mech pilot was hot on the Briz, but she could see his logic. They were unsightly things, basically tank turrets on bipedal digitigrade legs. They were current generation mechs, more modern than Perths, but that just meant they hadn’t had all the kinks worked out.
“We need speed, signals, and more speed. We won’t be fighting any Hellhounds in them, but we can load one with anti-infantry, two with anti-armor, and one with electronic warfare.” What the Captain was saying made sense; Brizes were versatile and they could always adjust their loadouts to fit the mission. The Arcadians weren’t going to be hunting Hellhounds in them, but they were great for signals intelligence, and they could move when they needed to. Plus their range meant they could keep up with the HOGs and Mackays, maybe even outpace them.
“Is command gonna give us four top-of-the-line models after we trashed those Perths?”
The Captain shrugged. “We brought them a fang with a Hellhound. I think they’d pay their left nut for that, so the price of two Perths was a bargain.”
“Captain!” Zora said reflexively.
Now it was Kaz’s turn to shrug and she even laughed darkly a bit before the Captain continued.
“But that brings me to my next point. Yevhen was almost outmatched in that last fight.”
“I was not,” Yevhen said in her mind indignantly. It dawned on Kaz then just how much Yevhen had changed since she met him. When she first met him, in that little stone church, he was all pomp and circumstance. He had quickly opened up to her, transforming from some unapproachable and larger-than-life figure, into a mischievous, egotistical, and (above all) smug vampire, with a questionable grasp on morality that always seemed to help her in the end. She wasn’t sure if he was manipulating her, but the change was noticeable. The crude comments and barbs towards Reynolds had only grown in severity over time and she wondered where he was heading if he continued down that path...
“Yes, you were. If Bogdan had used his Hellhound, you’d be a bloody smear!” she shot back, not caring who heard her. The Captain laughed a bit, knowing exactly how Yevhen had objected and even Zora gave a little smile. She missed part of the fight after Bogdan had used his hound to suplex her Perth but even she knew the difference between a vampire in and out of a Hellhound. Yevhen hadn’t mentioned it, but she’d thought a lot about it. She’d been scared for him, strange as that had sounded. He’d only taken down Grigori’s hound because the young vamp was such an unskilled pilot.
“Exactly. We need to go and find Yevhen a Hellhound. Arcadia doesn’t have the facilities to produce them, but our allies do.”
“They're gonna give us one out of the kindness of their hearts?” Kaz asked wryly and the Captain shook his head. Everyone knew Arcadia’s allies were stingy with what they were sending Arcadia to fight Mithris and a Hellhound was out of the question. She knew that if Arcadia fell it would cause a domino effect that would topple half of the continent, so the rest of the world was obligated by self-preservation to send them guns and ammo. They, of course, sent just enough to keep Arcadia from falling, but not enough to make any real headway.
“You know they aren’t, Kaz. We gotta find a way to get one. Command has a lead on an abandoned Necrobiology facility in…” the Captain started but shadows swelled at his feet and licked up through the holes in the picnic table porous plastic table like some dark flame. Zora shrieked and stumbled back as the vampire began to form. Kaz was glad she had wolfed down her stew before he arrived, his form passing through the plate, because she wasn’t sure if she’d have wanted it after that (despite how good it was). Yevhen manifested there, apparently confident enough that he wouldn’t burn in the fading light. “Jesus, can you not do that?” the Captain started to object but Yevhen, with that self-satisfied grin, ignored his question.
“Instead of your plan... we could just go steal mine,” Yevhen said, as if it were obvious.
“You have a Hellhound?” Kaz asked incredulously.
“Not anymore, obviously. That’s why we need to go steal it,” he replied, offering a polite little mocking half bow to her, sweeping an arm across his chest.
“Steal it from where exactly?” Zora asked, despite her fear of the vampire.
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“Last I saw it, and this was in the 2350s, it was somewhere near Volgopol I think?” Yevhen explained casually, like he’d lost his keys.
“Volgopol? That’s Mithris territory,” the Captain said with concern.
“Screw that, it’s old Transylvanian territory. You want us to go poking around Dracula’s basement for your musty old Hellhound?” Kaz shot back with an accusing look. Fangs had been around for a while, but the wider public only really became aware of them after scorching the sky. The available fiction had either been written by sly fangs who thought they were being very clever, or by people who’d got a glimpse of one showing off when they shouldn’t have. Apparently a lot of vampires loved Bram Stoker’s book, as they thought it was the first book that really represented them for a while, though they read it more as a tragedy than a slow-burn mystery-horror story like its author intended.
Yevhen shrugged and his smile only got wider, “What can I say, I’m a stereotype.” But then he paused and corrected himself, saying, “Well…they were stereotypes.”
“Who?” the Captain asked with an analytical expression.
“There was a group back then trying to make Hellhounds there, using a local minority. Really unfortunate business.” Kaz didn’t like the emphasis Yevhen put on “unfortunate”; it made her shiver. Anything he considered “unfortunate” must have been a bloody war crime.
“So you, what, went down there to get an upgrade?” the Captain asked accusingly.
Yevhen sighed and grew more somber. “You may not believe it, Captain, but I have a heart. It may not beat anymore, but I didn’t approve of what they were doing, so I decided to put an end to it. I lost my Hellhound there in the process.” Kaz felt something for Yevhen then; even as flippant and psychotically murderous as he was, she felt that he was being genuine.
“And you’re sure it’s still there?” she asked gingerly and Yevhen nodded.
“Yes my master. Dando is still there, I can feel him,” Yevhen explained. “I know he’s somewhere south of here, likely still in Volgopol but I don’t know quite where he is, or what state he’s in. I can feel him dreaming.” Kaz didn’t want to ask what a Hellhound dreamt about.
“That sounds easier than raiding a necrobiology facility,” Zora said with a shrug looking at the Captain.
“Hmm, the facility command is aware of is in West Malithovia. We’d have to cross neutral East Malithovia and manage to weave our way through the Malithovian civil war’s frontline to get to it,” Reynolds explained. Kaz could tell he was a little dejected that he didn’t get to bring up his plan earlier. “I’ll bring up this idea to command. I think they’ll like the idea of traveling through Mithris territory more than Malithovian territory, as we’re already in hot water with them.”
Zora winced at that; it was clear she had Malithovian sympathies and she was sour over their last mission. The “checkpoint incident” with the Mithris troops pretending to be Malithovians had actually been a propaganda move meant to spark Malithovian hate towards Arcadia. Kaz and the others learned that Mithris had set up some long range cameras and edited it all together to look like Arcadia brutally murdered a bunch of Malithovians. Arcadia had released its own footage, but propaganda wars were almost as dirty as biological warfare; it wasn’t clear how the public would ultimately react.
“I... I’ve been getting messages from the family I have left there. They hate me for that,” Zora managed before turning and filling her mouth with a spoonful of soup.
Kaz, face flashing with rage for her, replied, “Don’t they get that it’s all BS? All fake? Half of it is AI and bad AI at that.”
Zora didn’t reply with words, just shaking her head.
“Mithris sent those troops there to die. Probably told them they’d have backup or something. They’re the real villains here,” Kaz fumed, rolling her head on her neck a bit to relieve tension.
“Yeah... but they can’t tell. They’re stressed... like us... they think we’re just as bad. I don’t know, Kaz, it’s bad. Some are saying I should desert, and others are basically calling me a traitor for siding with Arcadia.”
“Tell them to go screw themselves! You’re Arcadian,” Kaz continued, holding her palms up in exasperation.
“It’s not that simple, Lieutenant,” Zora said and offered a sad smile. Kaz could tell by looking into the woman’s one remaining eye that she was right. Traditions, family, history, culture... it was all one big mixed goulash and she’d oversimplified by assuming that just because Zora was Arcadian like the rest of them that she was only Arcadian.
Kaz blew out a long exhale. “Yeah... I get that. I guess,” she said and gave an apologetic smile, placing a hand on Zora’s shoulder like she had placed on Kaz’s after the last battle. “I know it’s not easy, Zora. Sorry.”
“No, I get it, Lieutenant.” The woman was too kind and Kaz turned away.
“I’ll be in my bunk if you need me. Gotta pack my things for a trip to Dracula’s castle, once the Captain convinces Arty it’s a smart move,” Kaz said, breaking off the conversation.
She couldn’t deal with sincerity like that. How Zora had maintained her heart in a war like this was beyond her. As she walked away from the others, Yevhen gave his horribly knowing little smile. Kaz had a bad feeling about this and the smile she caught didn’t do anything to calm her nerves. She knew there was something Yevhen wasn’t telling them and she couldn’t help but suspect that he was trying to get her killed indirectly so he could be free.
She’d just have to keep living.
Living to spite someone else was healthy, right?
~ ~ ~
That night Kaz couldn’t sleep. She always had trouble sleeping before a big mission and this was no exception. Her mind eventually turned towards the new fang they’d “acquired” for Arcadia.
“Bur-Suen doesn’t sound very Malithovian,” Kaz said out loud, knowing Yevhen would hear her.
“He’s originally Sumerian. I believe he lived in the walled city of Ur... they were very proud of those big walls of theirs. Quaint by today's standards,” Yevhen added, reminiscing and showing off more than a little bit as he replied in her mind.
“He’s a strix, then?” she asked, following up on her hunch.
Yevhen considered her question for a long moment, rubbing his chin before he answered, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she demanded, her temper starting to get the better of her.
“He might be,” Yevhen began. “He’s always been one for ‘violence’ over ‘mastery’. I don’t know if he’s ever taken the time to learn.”
Kaz was getting more than a little annoyed at Yevhen’s evasiveness. “To learn what?”
“Being a strix isn’t about your age, or at least it’s not just about your age. And it’s an informal term. It refers to a fang’s... ‘control over their essence’ might be the right way to describe it to you. It’s... a state of spirit? A state of form or maybe formlessness?” Kaz didn’t understand what Yevhen was trying to say, but took his word for it. He seemed to like it when people were off guard around him and offering up such convoluted explanations achieved that goal.
“Any idea why he was out there? All alone in that forest? It feels weird. Was he working for Mithris or something?” Kaz asked, as she mulled it over.
“Bogdan? Never. He’s never met a government he liked and he has a special hate-on for the Ruskies... or whatever they’re calling themselves these days.”
“So... why was he out there?”
“If I had to guess, my master? He’s just killing for the hell of it. He’s always been like that,” Yevhen added. “The Pillar calls to us in different ways. All of us feel its pull, towards destruction, towards violence, but he seems to answer louder than most.”
“The Pillar?”
“Not something to explain over pillow-talk. But, yes. Old Boggy is a bit of a bastard. If it isn’t fighting or killing, he really isn’t interested in it. I’ve tried to get him to play chess or take up painting, but I’ve got three original Rembrandts that have holes in them for my effort.”
She smirked at that, imagining the bear of a man ripping up poor Yevhen’s paintings. She signed and rolled over. “Command said he caused a major disruption of the aid coming through East Malithovia. They pegged him as having dropped at least three major convoys moving through the region.”
“Sounds like him. He probably either destroyed the goods or just left them there.”
“And how the hell did he maintain a hound for so long?”
“What, the Barghest? That thing’s been around since... forever. It was hardly high-end when he first ghouled it, and it has to have lost two-thirds of its mechanical upgrades. It’s about as close to a biological creature as a hound can get. He keeps it in rough shape, but if there is one love he has in the world beyond bashing skulls in, it would be his hound. He dotes on it.”
“How about your hound? You were talking about it earlier.”
There was a silence that stretched so long that Kaz thought he was giving her the cold shoulder.
“For a long time, he was my only friend,” he replied gravely. Kaz was taken aback by this comment. She’d never really thought that a “thing” could be a friend and Yevhen didn’t strike her as the sentimental type.
“Well, it sounds like we’re going to get it.” The next silence stretched on for even longer, and for a minute Kaz thought he wasn’t going to reply again.
“Despite the plan, I’m not sure I want to go back to that place.” She hadn't heard him so serious in a long time, and there was a deep underpinning of regret in the way he spoke into her mind.
“Well, let’s sleep on it Yevhen. We’ll get your hound back, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m sure we will... it seems like fate for me to go back there.”
Ingredients
- 1 lb ground beef
- 1 large onion, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 bell pepper, diced
- 1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes
- 1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce
- 1 cup beef broth
- 2 tbsp butter
- 1 tsp salt
- 2 tbsp paprika
- 3 tsp black pepper
- 1 tsp dried oregano
- 1 tsp dried basil
- 1 tsp red pepper flakes
- 3 tsp chili powder
- 1 tsp ground cumin
- 1 tsp sugar
- 2 cups cooked rice
- Parsley, thyme, bay leaves (as available)
- 1 diced potato (skinned).
- 2 cups frozen corn
- Grated cheese (optional)
Equipment
- Slow Cooker (or large cooking pot with lid)
- Stove
- Cooking Pan
Directions
- Cook ground beef and onion until meat is browned (no longer pink) and onion is translucent. Drain liquid.
- Add the beef, onion (diced), garlic (minced), bell peppers, diced tomato, tomato sauce, beef broth, potato (diced and skinned) seasonings (paprika, salt, pepper, oregano, basil, red pepper flakes, chili powder, cumin), aromatics (parsley, thyme, bay leaves), butter, and sugar. Stir until mixed.
- Slow cook on low for 6-8 hours on low.
- Add rice and frozen corn about 30-45 min before serving.
- Add grated cheese over the top, optionally, when serving.