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January 22, 2021 Sidewalk Outside Satyr Stadium, 9:30pm. And there it was. The most stupid fucking thing that could ever exist. Wind whipped its sharp breath once through the street, almost as if it had been reading his mind, rifling the edge of his dark hoodie enough to slip the hood from around his features. Gloves were pulled off, then the Navy beanie as the normally clear kelly green slid from the massive goliath he was looking up at. It was brazen, and arrogant, and apparently unstoppable. Bare fingers rifled through his hair a moment before pulling the skullcap back on and over his ears. He’d barely broken a sweat in the last five miles, cold gelling what little there was almost immediately on the back of his neck. Hood pulled back up, gloves back on, fingers interlocked to reach high above his head in a languid stretch before thoughts returned to continuing his run. Even the layers under his zip-up had done nothing to elicit more of a sweat. He didn’t know why he came… strike that. He knew exactly why. Hiding for so long. Forced to hide for so long. Hunted. His presence a death sentence for the woman he loved that was now out of his reach again if she ever mentioned what he was to those around her. Now, what the world hated and feared was on display for all to see. The blood, the infection… splattered all over the ring like it was a fucking joke. Money passing between hands to see who had the bigger fangs, and cheered in bars like a goddamn super bowl. Lips pursed, tongue running across a canine. Apparently it was okay now to pretend to be powerful and also be infected. He’d needed to put his eyes directly on the pompous monstrosity for it to be real. It blew the door wide open for every single fear the population had about the infected. For the Vanguard to have all the fodder they needed to continue its rabid hatred, for the those that came to him terrified and hunted to have more demons to run from. More suspicions and fear for some, less threat for others to think the whole Were infected community were fluffy toys to be bought and sold in swag stores. The question was, what would he do about it. Kneeling, he adjusted the laces on his right shoe, retying it before dusting off the knee of his black Adidas running pants. This was a fucking nightmare. Few, if any had the eyes he did… every weakness, strength and point of entry locked into his brain before turning them back to the sidewalk to decide which direction he wanted to go. A Colosseum worthy of an empire, a modern day Caesar. Two thousand years ago it took sixty men and twenty three stab wounds to take down a god. He only needed one well-placed bullet.