Not An Animal
folder
+M through R › Metal Gear
Rating:
Adult
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Category:
+M through R › Metal Gear
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,388
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Metal Gear Solid and X-Men, plus all associated characters are property of parties other than the author (Kojima Productions and Marvel Entertainment respectively). Author makes no money from this story.
Not An Animal
Not An Animal
A/N: This is kind of an alternate ending to my fic "For What You Believe In." Said fic can be found here: http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600084752
Basically, this fic continues from Scene 4 of FWYBI onwards, i.e. scenes 5 and 6 do not happen.
Chapter 1
Solid Snake awoke with a bottle of Jack Daniels in bed with him him. He was clad only in a pair of jeans. He shakily rose to his feet before stumbling towards the medicine cabinet.
As he entered the lounge room, dull throbbing in his head gave way to silence. Snake instantly glanced at the table. A satellite telephone sat there; a note next to the device.
Dave,
I had to meet with Nastasha.
I must cage the monster I unleashed.
-Hal
"Shit," the mercenary grumbled.
What if they find him? They'll kill him to cover up the truth... I need to... His thought ceased as his stomach growled, when was the last time I ate? Acid rose in his stomach; his body answering back.
Straightening his posture; Snake pulled on a white snow-suit with extreme efficiency. Each movement was quick and fluid; his body refused to acknowledge the jackhammer inside his skull. As if it were a casual occurrence, Dave hoisted a sniper rifle over his shoulder and marched outside.
Chapter 2
The clawed creature stalked forward on his haunches. His prey was strong, swift, meaty destined for death. Followed this buck all tha way from tha Canadian border. Its mine.
Silently stalking around the creature; Logan measured his breathing. With every exhale, crystals formed in his breath. He gazed at the prey; it stood as straight as Cyclops. Fuckin' bastard. I'll show him ta boss me around. Carve him up and eat his fuckin' heart. He imagined the heat that would be inside the carcass; gutting it and slicing his way to the sweet meat within.
As it stood there in its white graveyard, Logan sniffed the air again. Something was off... another scent. Someone else...
The shade of the jacket was only the slightest bit off; less blue than the surrounding snow. Even his enhanced senses barely noticed it. But the near-imperceptible movement, the tell-tale sound of the other beating heart; it was all the confirmation Logan needed.
"Back off bub," he growled at the other hunter, "my prey..." Raising his fist towards the man buried in the snow; Logan popped his claws to stake his claim.
It took Snake no time to react. Images flashed in his head; Psycho Mantis, Vulcan Raven, and now this clawed man. He knew they'd send someone after him. Two shots rang out; only the smallest twitch of movement made between them. Each bullet sliced through the air and slashed through an artery on the side of Logan's thick neck. Torrents of red spilled from each torn gash; scarlet ribbons decorated the snow.
Chapter 3
The white had changed to gray. But the cold still remained; refrigerating his metal bones. There was light; hazy waves across his field of vision.
"You're awake. Good," said the distorted face before him. As his vision cleared, he saw a man with bloodshot green eyes, brown hair, and almost beard-like stubble.
"Who... who're ya?" Logan growled at the green-eyed man. It was only then that he realized where he was.
A basement. A gray concrete bunker with wooden steps leading upwards. Logan smelled the air... cookin', normal stuff, no soldiers besides this guy... not a fuckin' base, a civilian house. He was bound to the wall; leather straps, metal shackles, chains.. he began writhing reflexively, without any thought. The lack of any slack in the bonds only made growls mingle with his voice.
"You know that already," Snake growled as he observed his captive. The man was short, stocky, jet-black hair and blue eyes. Thick ropes of muscle reinforced each limb. The dark hair covered the captive's body; a dense coat. He continued, metallic rasp growing more tense,
"Who are you? Who sent you?"
"No one sent me," Logan replied in a whispery voice, "and even I don't know who the fuck I am. Just let me go."
"Like hell. With your claws and healing you gotta be Spec Ops." Snake's tone was not inquiring, it was naming the self-evident. He watched Logan struggle; his captive's writhing was purely automatic... the instinctual resistance of a wild animal in a cage.
There's a killer inside you, Snake! Don't deny it! He heard Liquid's taunt in his mind.
Logan looked down. Spec Ops. That's what they wanted me ta be.
"No. I ain't a soldier. I ain't here fer ya. Just let me go." He kept quiet as he sniffed the air; his captor smelled of fear... and familiarity, as if Logan were nothing new to him.
Snake opened a small cabinet and removed a translucent object. It was a large pouch of liquid that ended in a long tube with a steel point at the end. A drip bag.
"Just water and glucose," the green-eyed soldier grumbled.
The gleam of the light against the fine silver steel...
..Prep the subject for memory erasure..
..Initiate the Oyama procedure..
The feral erupted. Roars and growls exploded from his lungs; his pupils widened as he bared his fangs. Flecks of spittle sprayed from his mouth and landed on Snake's face.
As Snake slid the needle into the veins of the creature, he remembered Liquid's taunt. You enjoy all the killing! There's a killer inside you! He shook his head as his own voice took over, not inside me. In front of me.
As his roars escalated to howls, Logan managed to expel torn fragments of words;
"LET ME GO! I'M NO ANIMAL!"
"Yes... yes you are" the mercenary replied in a resigned grumble.
Snake turned towards the stairs. He ascended slowly; his gait was that of a casket bearer at a funeral. His mind did not register the howls and roars of the shorter man; he was too consumed within his own thoughts.
He closed the basement door and muffled the ferocious growling before he stumbled back to the sofa and his bottle of whiskey. As he picked the bottle up, faint traces of his reflection could be seen in the glass. He didn't study it; he was certain he would see blue eyes and black hair.
You're an animal. You're a killer. Just like me.
Chapter 4
As the harsh white fluorescence stung his retinas, he remembered that look in the man's forest-colored eyes. He didn't grasp it before; back then the animal was too busy clawing for every inch of control it could. But in hindsight, it was a clear look of recognition.
How tha fuck? He's cold as this fuckin' room! I wish I fuckin' had that control... As level-fuckin'-headed as One-Eye!
Yeah. Tha perfect soldier. A cold-blooded one.
Logan swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought that followed;
Just what Weapon X wanted ta make me...
He didn't know how much later it was when his captor returned to the basement. Another drip bag was in his hands, no needle on it. Thank fuck. Then he smelled the air... an overwhelming reek of whiskey. Stale cigarette smoke. And even staler sweat; anxious sweat. Logan recognized that smell; he reeked of it every time he awoke from a nightmare.
He's paranoid. He's just been through somethin' real bad. Just like me a few years ago when I came ta Xavier's.
"Who are you? Who sent you?" Snake flatly asked.
"Name's Logan. I don't know much else.... no one sent me... We just wanted ta eat tha same buck..." Logan's cobalt eyes gazed into the forest of his captor's.
Snake couldn't see a single indication of deception. The eyes didn't twitch. The voice didn't falter. But this Logan... maybe he's just a good liar.
"I don't believe you," he said, before he ascended the stairs again.
Some indiscernible span of time later, Logan heard it. He heard it over the buzzing of the fluorescent light. A struggle above him; only one set of footsteps, muffled by blankets.
I've been there bub.
The raspy, metallic, smoke-ravaged voice growled words.
"FOX! MERYL!"
Shit... he's lost 'em.
"At least... you always fought... for what you believed in..." came the muffled, cry-like growls. Then Logan heard the sound of throwing up. Bile swelled in his own throat; he couldn't tell if it was from sympathy or hunger. He could hear the implication; so ya didn't, didja bub? Then what didja fight for?
It was some hours later before his captor returned down to replace the drip bag. The acid-meets-parmesan-cheese smell of vomit was still there, accompanied by the bitterness of beer. Hair o'tha dog. The red veins on the whites of his captor's eyes looked like they were advancing ever closer towards his irises; an army surrounding a defenseless group of prisoners.
"So what're ya fightin' fer?" The Canadian rasped in a dry voice.
Snake maintained his stoic mask but felt a pang of recognition. Why? No reason. Since when did I need one?
The feral smelled it. Regret, recognition. He knew he was asking the right questions. "Remind ya of someone? Do I?"
"Why the hell do you think that?" Snake rasped back, his eyes wide. Telepath?
"I can smell it on ya bub. Lotsa fear. Pain. I don't know what tha fuck ya just went through, but I can tell it was bad. Ya lost people close to ya, didn'tcha?"
Snake broke eye contact before marching back up the stairs.
"Try drowning it all ya want. I tried too."
Snake paused. He didn't look back. He slowly inhaled before continuing up the stairs and shutting the door behind him.
The black-haired Canadian drifted in and out of consciousness. The healing factor took care of the chafing. He heard the familiar sound of an opening bottle and the slosh of liquid being poured. Someone's got an appointment with Uncle Jimmy.
Several hours and pourings passed. Then he heard them... faint, nearly indiscernible mumblings.
"Why d'ya continue to follow... follow orders... ya enjoy the killing..."
Did Weapon X get'im too?
"Killer... killer inside ya... created...that way.."
Making someone into me?
"Can't fight yer genes... all fate.."
Bullshit. I fight with mine all tha fuckin' time! Only animals can't fight the bad parts of'emselves.
And at that moment it all made sense. The nightmares, the mumblings... the recognition... whatever his captor just crawled out of, it made the green-eyed soldier think these things. Think that everything was just the whim of chemicals in the bloodstream.
The fact this man had chained him to the wall was irrelevant right now. He intimately knew the place this captor of his was in.
The next time the green-eyed soldier replaced his drip bag, Logan fixed him with a cold stare and began,
"I know what'cher going through. I ain't one of 'em, I ain't here fer ya... They told ya yer just an animal huh? Slave o'yer genes? Just fit to be leashed and caged and sic'd on whoever they wanna get rid of? Yer not... no matter what they tell ya. I don't know why. I don't know much about this shit. But they ain't right. I know that much. Please... please pal... lemme go."
Snake stood there, silently listening. His eyes were wide, mouth agape. When the Canadian stopped, the Alaskan regained his composure and replied wearily.
"I'll think about it."
As the taller man left the basement, Logan smiled weakly.
"Call me Snake," the soldier grumbled as he closed the door behind him.
Maybe I'll be outta here sooner...
Chapter 5
Snake lay back down on the sofa and brought the half-empty bottle to his lips. Why can't all this make some damn sense... his fingers tensed around the glass neck. He heard the barks of his dogs outside. Animals. They can't fight their genes. His mind was filled with images of the animal in the basement; the struggling and defiant creature below.
Somehow, that image confused him. Animals... the dogs... they ain't defiant. It's all obey the alpha and serve the pack. An animal like me... just obey orders and serve the military. He swallowed another gulp. He replayed the images again; noticed the tendons bulging, biceps straining, lungs bellowing.
He heard it again in his mind; the blue-eyed feral's cry of "I AM NOT AN ANIMAL" still rang out. It still sounded ridiculous in a way but... no, you're no animal. Defiance is a trait of humans, not animals. I'm more animal than you, deep down.
His mind couldn't reconcile that... the collected, level-headed Solid Snake versus the thrashing, unstable Logan.. how could Snake be more of an animal than Logan? None of it makes any goddamn sense... he swigged again. He stretched out on the sofa; only dimly was he aware of the exposure of his neck. Vital arteries could be shot or slashed out.. he didn't care now.
He sat the bottle down on the table before he yawned again. His heavy eyelids descended; bloodshot eyes shielded again from light.
Chapter 6
"Snake," Logan groaned as the mercenary descended to his prison.
"Logan," replied Snake.
"Are you gonna..." Logan paused as he croaked, "make the right choice?"
The soldier scoffed. "Choice.." what choices have I had?
"Please..." he took a breath, "we ain't animals Snake... we have choices. We can be slaves to 'em... or we can tell'em ta go ta hell... ya can keep me here... or ya can let me go."
He heard her words again, but didn't think of FOXDIE. You mustn't allow yourself to be chained to fate... to be ruled by your genes. Humans can choose the type of life they want to live.
The mercenary picked up the key and slowly inserted it into the lock. He turned it slowly as he studied the way the light gleamed on it's steel surface. He opened the lock with the gravitas he only saw when medals were awarded to soldiers. He removed the chains on the feral man; one by one the blue eyed Canadian was freed from their bondage.
Logan ascended first, Snake in tow. He didn't notice the polar bear rug or the pile of bottles near the sofa. He only followed the smell of snow as his muscles burned with newly-flowing blood. As he dashed out of the front door he felt the animal within him call him into the trees. Feet plowed into the snow; then hands. As he alternated between two and four limbs he let the scent of pine fill his nostrils. Silver claws flashed out between his knuckles; white flakes of snow dotted his black mane now.
Bye Snake.
The mercenary watched from the cabin's front door. He saw it before him; the freedom and wildness. No more chains, no more shackles, no military pecking order, no orders... the feral was free to choose his own goals.
It looks animal. But it's human.
Thank you, Logan.
The End
A/N: This is kind of an alternate ending to my fic "For What You Believe In." Said fic can be found here: http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600084752
Basically, this fic continues from Scene 4 of FWYBI onwards, i.e. scenes 5 and 6 do not happen.
Chapter 1
Solid Snake awoke with a bottle of Jack Daniels in bed with him him. He was clad only in a pair of jeans. He shakily rose to his feet before stumbling towards the medicine cabinet.
As he entered the lounge room, dull throbbing in his head gave way to silence. Snake instantly glanced at the table. A satellite telephone sat there; a note next to the device.
Dave,
I had to meet with Nastasha.
I must cage the monster I unleashed.
-Hal
"Shit," the mercenary grumbled.
What if they find him? They'll kill him to cover up the truth... I need to... His thought ceased as his stomach growled, when was the last time I ate? Acid rose in his stomach; his body answering back.
Straightening his posture; Snake pulled on a white snow-suit with extreme efficiency. Each movement was quick and fluid; his body refused to acknowledge the jackhammer inside his skull. As if it were a casual occurrence, Dave hoisted a sniper rifle over his shoulder and marched outside.
Chapter 2
The clawed creature stalked forward on his haunches. His prey was strong, swift, meaty destined for death. Followed this buck all tha way from tha Canadian border. Its mine.
Silently stalking around the creature; Logan measured his breathing. With every exhale, crystals formed in his breath. He gazed at the prey; it stood as straight as Cyclops. Fuckin' bastard. I'll show him ta boss me around. Carve him up and eat his fuckin' heart. He imagined the heat that would be inside the carcass; gutting it and slicing his way to the sweet meat within.
As it stood there in its white graveyard, Logan sniffed the air again. Something was off... another scent. Someone else...
The shade of the jacket was only the slightest bit off; less blue than the surrounding snow. Even his enhanced senses barely noticed it. But the near-imperceptible movement, the tell-tale sound of the other beating heart; it was all the confirmation Logan needed.
"Back off bub," he growled at the other hunter, "my prey..." Raising his fist towards the man buried in the snow; Logan popped his claws to stake his claim.
It took Snake no time to react. Images flashed in his head; Psycho Mantis, Vulcan Raven, and now this clawed man. He knew they'd send someone after him. Two shots rang out; only the smallest twitch of movement made between them. Each bullet sliced through the air and slashed through an artery on the side of Logan's thick neck. Torrents of red spilled from each torn gash; scarlet ribbons decorated the snow.
Chapter 3
The white had changed to gray. But the cold still remained; refrigerating his metal bones. There was light; hazy waves across his field of vision.
"You're awake. Good," said the distorted face before him. As his vision cleared, he saw a man with bloodshot green eyes, brown hair, and almost beard-like stubble.
"Who... who're ya?" Logan growled at the green-eyed man. It was only then that he realized where he was.
A basement. A gray concrete bunker with wooden steps leading upwards. Logan smelled the air... cookin', normal stuff, no soldiers besides this guy... not a fuckin' base, a civilian house. He was bound to the wall; leather straps, metal shackles, chains.. he began writhing reflexively, without any thought. The lack of any slack in the bonds only made growls mingle with his voice.
"You know that already," Snake growled as he observed his captive. The man was short, stocky, jet-black hair and blue eyes. Thick ropes of muscle reinforced each limb. The dark hair covered the captive's body; a dense coat. He continued, metallic rasp growing more tense,
"Who are you? Who sent you?"
"No one sent me," Logan replied in a whispery voice, "and even I don't know who the fuck I am. Just let me go."
"Like hell. With your claws and healing you gotta be Spec Ops." Snake's tone was not inquiring, it was naming the self-evident. He watched Logan struggle; his captive's writhing was purely automatic... the instinctual resistance of a wild animal in a cage.
There's a killer inside you, Snake! Don't deny it! He heard Liquid's taunt in his mind.
Logan looked down. Spec Ops. That's what they wanted me ta be.
"No. I ain't a soldier. I ain't here fer ya. Just let me go." He kept quiet as he sniffed the air; his captor smelled of fear... and familiarity, as if Logan were nothing new to him.
Snake opened a small cabinet and removed a translucent object. It was a large pouch of liquid that ended in a long tube with a steel point at the end. A drip bag.
"Just water and glucose," the green-eyed soldier grumbled.
The gleam of the light against the fine silver steel...
..Prep the subject for memory erasure..
..Initiate the Oyama procedure..
The feral erupted. Roars and growls exploded from his lungs; his pupils widened as he bared his fangs. Flecks of spittle sprayed from his mouth and landed on Snake's face.
As Snake slid the needle into the veins of the creature, he remembered Liquid's taunt. You enjoy all the killing! There's a killer inside you! He shook his head as his own voice took over, not inside me. In front of me.
As his roars escalated to howls, Logan managed to expel torn fragments of words;
"LET ME GO! I'M NO ANIMAL!"
"Yes... yes you are" the mercenary replied in a resigned grumble.
Snake turned towards the stairs. He ascended slowly; his gait was that of a casket bearer at a funeral. His mind did not register the howls and roars of the shorter man; he was too consumed within his own thoughts.
He closed the basement door and muffled the ferocious growling before he stumbled back to the sofa and his bottle of whiskey. As he picked the bottle up, faint traces of his reflection could be seen in the glass. He didn't study it; he was certain he would see blue eyes and black hair.
You're an animal. You're a killer. Just like me.
Chapter 4
As the harsh white fluorescence stung his retinas, he remembered that look in the man's forest-colored eyes. He didn't grasp it before; back then the animal was too busy clawing for every inch of control it could. But in hindsight, it was a clear look of recognition.
How tha fuck? He's cold as this fuckin' room! I wish I fuckin' had that control... As level-fuckin'-headed as One-Eye!
Yeah. Tha perfect soldier. A cold-blooded one.
Logan swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought that followed;
Just what Weapon X wanted ta make me...
He didn't know how much later it was when his captor returned to the basement. Another drip bag was in his hands, no needle on it. Thank fuck. Then he smelled the air... an overwhelming reek of whiskey. Stale cigarette smoke. And even staler sweat; anxious sweat. Logan recognized that smell; he reeked of it every time he awoke from a nightmare.
He's paranoid. He's just been through somethin' real bad. Just like me a few years ago when I came ta Xavier's.
"Who are you? Who sent you?" Snake flatly asked.
"Name's Logan. I don't know much else.... no one sent me... We just wanted ta eat tha same buck..." Logan's cobalt eyes gazed into the forest of his captor's.
Snake couldn't see a single indication of deception. The eyes didn't twitch. The voice didn't falter. But this Logan... maybe he's just a good liar.
"I don't believe you," he said, before he ascended the stairs again.
Some indiscernible span of time later, Logan heard it. He heard it over the buzzing of the fluorescent light. A struggle above him; only one set of footsteps, muffled by blankets.
I've been there bub.
The raspy, metallic, smoke-ravaged voice growled words.
"FOX! MERYL!"
Shit... he's lost 'em.
"At least... you always fought... for what you believed in..." came the muffled, cry-like growls. Then Logan heard the sound of throwing up. Bile swelled in his own throat; he couldn't tell if it was from sympathy or hunger. He could hear the implication; so ya didn't, didja bub? Then what didja fight for?
It was some hours later before his captor returned down to replace the drip bag. The acid-meets-parmesan-cheese smell of vomit was still there, accompanied by the bitterness of beer. Hair o'tha dog. The red veins on the whites of his captor's eyes looked like they were advancing ever closer towards his irises; an army surrounding a defenseless group of prisoners.
"So what're ya fightin' fer?" The Canadian rasped in a dry voice.
Snake maintained his stoic mask but felt a pang of recognition. Why? No reason. Since when did I need one?
The feral smelled it. Regret, recognition. He knew he was asking the right questions. "Remind ya of someone? Do I?"
"Why the hell do you think that?" Snake rasped back, his eyes wide. Telepath?
"I can smell it on ya bub. Lotsa fear. Pain. I don't know what tha fuck ya just went through, but I can tell it was bad. Ya lost people close to ya, didn'tcha?"
Snake broke eye contact before marching back up the stairs.
"Try drowning it all ya want. I tried too."
Snake paused. He didn't look back. He slowly inhaled before continuing up the stairs and shutting the door behind him.
The black-haired Canadian drifted in and out of consciousness. The healing factor took care of the chafing. He heard the familiar sound of an opening bottle and the slosh of liquid being poured. Someone's got an appointment with Uncle Jimmy.
Several hours and pourings passed. Then he heard them... faint, nearly indiscernible mumblings.
"Why d'ya continue to follow... follow orders... ya enjoy the killing..."
Did Weapon X get'im too?
"Killer... killer inside ya... created...that way.."
Making someone into me?
"Can't fight yer genes... all fate.."
Bullshit. I fight with mine all tha fuckin' time! Only animals can't fight the bad parts of'emselves.
And at that moment it all made sense. The nightmares, the mumblings... the recognition... whatever his captor just crawled out of, it made the green-eyed soldier think these things. Think that everything was just the whim of chemicals in the bloodstream.
The fact this man had chained him to the wall was irrelevant right now. He intimately knew the place this captor of his was in.
The next time the green-eyed soldier replaced his drip bag, Logan fixed him with a cold stare and began,
"I know what'cher going through. I ain't one of 'em, I ain't here fer ya... They told ya yer just an animal huh? Slave o'yer genes? Just fit to be leashed and caged and sic'd on whoever they wanna get rid of? Yer not... no matter what they tell ya. I don't know why. I don't know much about this shit. But they ain't right. I know that much. Please... please pal... lemme go."
Snake stood there, silently listening. His eyes were wide, mouth agape. When the Canadian stopped, the Alaskan regained his composure and replied wearily.
"I'll think about it."
As the taller man left the basement, Logan smiled weakly.
"Call me Snake," the soldier grumbled as he closed the door behind him.
Maybe I'll be outta here sooner...
Chapter 5
Snake lay back down on the sofa and brought the half-empty bottle to his lips. Why can't all this make some damn sense... his fingers tensed around the glass neck. He heard the barks of his dogs outside. Animals. They can't fight their genes. His mind was filled with images of the animal in the basement; the struggling and defiant creature below.
Somehow, that image confused him. Animals... the dogs... they ain't defiant. It's all obey the alpha and serve the pack. An animal like me... just obey orders and serve the military. He swallowed another gulp. He replayed the images again; noticed the tendons bulging, biceps straining, lungs bellowing.
He heard it again in his mind; the blue-eyed feral's cry of "I AM NOT AN ANIMAL" still rang out. It still sounded ridiculous in a way but... no, you're no animal. Defiance is a trait of humans, not animals. I'm more animal than you, deep down.
His mind couldn't reconcile that... the collected, level-headed Solid Snake versus the thrashing, unstable Logan.. how could Snake be more of an animal than Logan? None of it makes any goddamn sense... he swigged again. He stretched out on the sofa; only dimly was he aware of the exposure of his neck. Vital arteries could be shot or slashed out.. he didn't care now.
He sat the bottle down on the table before he yawned again. His heavy eyelids descended; bloodshot eyes shielded again from light.
Chapter 6
"Snake," Logan groaned as the mercenary descended to his prison.
"Logan," replied Snake.
"Are you gonna..." Logan paused as he croaked, "make the right choice?"
The soldier scoffed. "Choice.." what choices have I had?
"Please..." he took a breath, "we ain't animals Snake... we have choices. We can be slaves to 'em... or we can tell'em ta go ta hell... ya can keep me here... or ya can let me go."
He heard her words again, but didn't think of FOXDIE. You mustn't allow yourself to be chained to fate... to be ruled by your genes. Humans can choose the type of life they want to live.
The mercenary picked up the key and slowly inserted it into the lock. He turned it slowly as he studied the way the light gleamed on it's steel surface. He opened the lock with the gravitas he only saw when medals were awarded to soldiers. He removed the chains on the feral man; one by one the blue eyed Canadian was freed from their bondage.
Logan ascended first, Snake in tow. He didn't notice the polar bear rug or the pile of bottles near the sofa. He only followed the smell of snow as his muscles burned with newly-flowing blood. As he dashed out of the front door he felt the animal within him call him into the trees. Feet plowed into the snow; then hands. As he alternated between two and four limbs he let the scent of pine fill his nostrils. Silver claws flashed out between his knuckles; white flakes of snow dotted his black mane now.
Bye Snake.
The mercenary watched from the cabin's front door. He saw it before him; the freedom and wildness. No more chains, no more shackles, no military pecking order, no orders... the feral was free to choose his own goals.
It looks animal. But it's human.
Thank you, Logan.
The End