Path of the Vampire forum

HE DOESN'T REMEMBER ever shedding a tear that night. It fell as we pulled the trigger, but I brushed it away even as the spent bullet casings fell to the ground. He would never know that he was even more deeply affected that his memory tells him.

And that's okay, because it really wasn't him who pulled the trigger, after all. Though I doubt he will ever realize that. Unless someday I vanish and he loses all the supposed skill that he believes he has, that is actually my purview.

I feel disgusted and ashamed at the thought. This is my role, to protect us. And to cease existing means I failed my role. This is what I am, this is what I was meant to be. If I cannot be myself, if I cannot be who and what I was meant to be, then I may as well disappear. I am the one who pulls the trigger. I am the buffer between him and harsh realities that he cannot yet accept.

I think, though, that he does feel a modicum of guilt for it. Definitely, it has affected us deeply, though I can only begin to imagine why, and he seeks out with his usual gift for rationalization the answer to why it has. Melancholy, he calls it, this emotion we share; it's almost rare that we are so attuned, despite the fact that we are the same.

But then again, we aren't, not really. Paradox, heh. Not my area to think about that, or even worry about it.

I do concern myself with the thought that this state we are in may cause us to be careless, or even slow. That, I think, is a greater danger. I almost keep him from actually taking a walk, but I believe I need it too.

He's not the only one haunted by the memory of that night.

So, yeah, I've been thinking a lot lately. Not my strong suit. But I guess it's shaken me more than a little, and I needed to think things through. Not that I've allowed that to break down my vigilance; I know my purpose. But I've also accepted that I need to understand what happened to me, to either avoid it, or allow it to make me better. Faster. More determined.

Do I feel guilty? He doesn't. But I think, in some level, I do.

EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED. An excuse to shoot things. I was excited, ecstatic, almost bouncing from wall to wall. And yet I forcced myself into a state of calm, while Xian pondered the implications of our summons, the implications of the Fae coming into the city.

I didn't bother; I had been called, I needed an excuse to do some violence, and Fae wanted me dead probably more than any Hunter did. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Xian had some reservations, though I was glad to see that he fought against his typical personal instincts for self-preservation. Of course, had he decided not to go, I would have gone anyway. And he would delude himself with thoughts a nice quiet walk. We had done that dance before, though not through something like this. This would have been far more complicated. Good thing he made it simpler, for once.

I had heard of the Fae just as Xian had, but where he felt a respectful fear, I felt them to be a challenge. Not that I didn't respect them; after all even vampires older and more powerful than I had a respect for them. They would be a way to measure my skill, to test my insticts, to practice my gifts and talents.

And violence. Violence. Shooty shoot shoot. That pleased me to no end. I was almost surprised Xian didn't hear me, but then again, there is something in us that doesn't allow that to happen.

Dressed for battle, I almost imagined my heart beating as I stepped through the portals, then into the front door of the building. Ah, such a curious thing, my mind. A curious, terrible, terrible, violent thing.

I AM NOT A CREATURE of violence. No, let me rephrase that. I am not a creature that thrives on violence. I do not dislike it, and I do not ordinarily seek it out, but it is not my purpose, it is not what drives me.

That said, I do enjoy it, at times. And even though I didn't know why, the night of the raid, I especially needed it.

I think I've said before that I'm not particularly introspective. That I continued these journals is a strange thing for me to do, but that's another thing I've just been running with. It's not like I have to struggle for words, after all. I mean, I am part of Xian, so we kindof know the same things. Or at least, I do. Know what he knows. Kindof.

Remembering it now, it brings a smile to my face still. My handgun felt almost like an extension of my arm, dealing out pain and death. I almost pity the first guard that tried to stop me on the first floor. I do hope he didn't have any family. But I don't particularly care. Xian might. Though he was clearly unaware of most of what really happened on that night.

I can't really put it into words. Once more I find myself wishing I was more of a poet of the written word, as I could see the poetry in the flying bullets, the splattering blood. I could hear the tearing music of my long knife as it sang through flesh and scraped on bone. Even the final gurgles of the guard whose hand I held as he lay dying seem etched as an epic fugue in my mind.

Xian distracted himself with almost making love to a computer system. He was so smitten I swear he would have asked it out if he was in any way that kind of vampire. In the meantime, I reveled in the destruction around me. Even in the gunfire from the weapons of the other vampires in the building, even in the screams caused by others.

I am not a creature of violence. But sometimes, I lie.

I WAS BURNED TODAY and I don't mean by words. I was some feckless tourist walking through a building we were assaulting, and I didn't notice the proximity charge until it was too late. I think I must have been able to curse, just before the thing exploded in my face. Which I think burned off, along with parts of my clothing, most of the skin on my hands.

The pain was almost unbearable, but I was able to shut it off, or at I mostly did. Xian was at again blissfully unaware; I do get the poor end of this deal, but it's my lot and I accept it.

At least my eyes were mostly spared. It would have been quite another indignity if I was blind as well as burned, right in the middle of an enemy stronghold. Look at me! I can't see you! Sitting duck!

I had managed to roll on the rather flammable carpet of the office floor, and it miraculously didn't catch fire. My clothes were a mess, but they looked a damn better sight than I did, I think. We vampires seem to be a little more flammable, I think. At least some of us are. Has to do with actually being dead.

Hurting in body and in pride, I slunk into a nearby cubicle to hide and heal. At the very least, I knew that a layer of skin would quickly appear to cover my injuries, while the actual healing took place underneath. My hair would be back shortly, and so would my eyebrows. At least, if I did this right, nobody would have to know I'd been careless.

I'm a little surprised that this was a pride issue for me, but it was and it is. I only confess it here, because it helps to get it out, and because nobody, not even Xian, will ever read this. But if you do, know that I have spared you from not only indignity and shame, but also from pain you never even realized was there.

Maybe this is the reason I need to get violent every now and again.

I DIDN'T ENJOY MUCH being a toasty vampire, and not for the first time I was grateful that I could heal the way we vampires do. Let Xian bother about why or how we can heal so quickly; I will just appreciate that it helps to keep us "alive" and still enjoying ourselves night after night after night.

At least until we no longer can. Heal ourselves. Though I guess that applies to enjoying ourselves too.

Without much of an outlet to vent my frustration, I decided to talk things out. No, not really. As much as my sibling-kin and Keara herself would probably be willing to listen to me rant, I'm not much of a talker after all. (Again, not a talker, keeping a journal. The irony strikes me, but I can't be bothered to reason it out.)

So, true to form, I tried to find an excuse to go kill something. Or at least, shoot something.

I didn't actually want to go out and find some innocent human to slaughter; I may be violent, but I'm not psychotic, at least I don't think so. I just wanted to shoot something. Again, irony: it was because I wanted to shoot something that I was in that raid where I was burned so badly to begin with. My life, or un-life, is full of them.

I wasn't in the mood to go stalking dead-heads either. I'm not sure how they keep coming back, why they keep coming back, and why the Quarantine Zone isn't empty of those yet, despite so many of our kind using them for target practice, but tonight I just wasn't feeling it. No, dead-heads weren't quite what I wanted.

A hunter would have been nice, but they seemed to have started to steer clear of me. That or I have become luckier in avoiding them, or unluckier as the case seems to be. A hunter would have been a decent challenge, and someone I would have no issues dealing with terminally. (Ha! Is that an attempt at poetry?)

I probably would have even settled for one of those lesser Fae; problem was, I didn't exactly know how to find them in the city, and given what Xian has been theorizing about them, I don't think I want to antagonize them in their home grounds outside it. I do want another crack at one of those things with the spider legs sticking out of them. The last one forced me to "strategically retreat" while one of my sib-kin dealt with it.

So, next best thing: shooting range.

The problem of finding one was easily enough solved; I am still Xian, after a fashion, which means I'm a telepath that can reach into the Web like he can. So I appropriated some "bandwidth" for lack of a better term, and ran a quick search for one that was open for a late night session. Thankfully, there were actually a few that were; I guess frustrations were still high after Black Thursday, and even the hoi polloi of Harper Rock had to let out steam.

And there's nothing like shooting something, anything, to let out some steam. At least, that's what I believe.

Xian didn't even need to submerge himself into the Net this time, with whatever delusion he has when I take active control of our body. No, he saw the results of the search, convinced himself that it was his idea to begin with, completely ignoring I exist, and decided to go take a walk and check out the range.

We realy do need to work on our relationship, him and me. But that would suggest that he even knows I exist, and he doesn't.

Well, the walk was thankfully uneventful, and the range not particularly choosy. There were a couple other people there, mostly keeping to themselves. One, I noticed, seemed intent on emptying a full box of ammo. Seemed like a good idea to me too, and Xian agreed.

I spent the night taking shot after careful shot, reviewing the target after each empty clip, then reloading to go at another. I wasn't a bad shot either, though that didn't surprise me. I think it surprised Xian a little, but then, all he remembers is that Jet taught him how to hold a gun to look like he knew how to use it. Probably convinced himself that the vampire condition allowed him to use it as well as he does.

Well, partly true. Mostly me. But he doesn't need to know that, and so he won't.

Anyway, I allowed myself to be submerged in the cautious repetition, neither moving too fast nor too slow. Empty mind, mostly. I think that's a Japanese idea, where an action becomes so automatic that you don't even think about it. Some people call it muscle memory. I think I like how the Japanese look at it better.

Empty mind. Aim. Fire. Pause. Repeat. Check. Reload. Repeat.

HE'S BEEN HAVING A bad week, my other self. Xian's gotten it into his head that he should be feeling bad about the family he left behind. That would be his mother, his sister, and the father who beat him up so badly that I had to come into being eventually. This has been both a bother and a great help.

It's been a bother because I can actually hear him sulking in the back of my mind. Is that even the right term, hearing? Whatever. The point is, he's been melancholy (his word, not mine) and rather contemplative (another long word) of his past life. He's also been guilt-tripping himself pretty heavily.

That of course means that I can do the driving, and so that's what I did for the week or so that he's been like this. He has it in his head that he's simply been moping around, but I've been pretty busy.

For one thing, Reganleif, one of my blood kin, has been helping me out a little. She's a childe of Enver, husband of Keara. Actually makes us related by marriage, but that's enough for Keara so that's enough for me.

Anyway, she's a monster, and I say that as in every way I can as a compliment, and during the last raid on a Fae stronghold, she breezed through them like a force of nature. I was smitten the only way that someone like me could be: she was an amazing fighter, powerful, elegant, brutal. Graceful in a way that nurse I followed so many many nights ago was, but in a way that was so much more beautifully violent. So I was very grateful for her advise and guidance in terms of how to take something bigger than I am down.

She also loaned me a ring that she said could help me avoid some of the worst blows in combat. Came at the right time, too, since that's when Xian decided that he had to be mopey and all emo; I was able to try it out for the next few nights, and I must admit that it's helped me quite a bit. I can already pretty much predict the movements of my opponents thanks to my telepathy, but this ring further enhanced that.

I do have to return it, but I definitely need to get me one of these. Pretty sure I can't afford one yet, but I think I should be able to save up. Just need to find some way to get Xian to figure it out that we need one.

Maybe I should help get Xian out of his funk soon. But I must admit I've been enjoying myself lately, being in charge as much as I have been the past few nights. Eventually, I'll try to figure something out. But for now, maybe another night or two.

I DON'T REALLY KNOW how many rounds I've fired in that range I found the other week. Neither do I know how many bullets I've fired at feral vampires, fae, or even the occasional zombie. I also haven't bothered to count how many rounds I've shot at hunters, or what I thought were hunters as I passed through the city streets and sewers. I won't bother to make a guess that will likely be wrong anyway.

Maybe if I was more like my other self, I might have cataloged each bullet as it left the chamber, approximating trajectory, wind speed, where it hit and at what angle. No, that's being a little bit extreme. He might have counted, if it pleased him to do so.

Possibly I would have some idea if I even bothered to count how much money I've been spending on the many, many boxes of bullets. But again, I couldn't be bothered. I'm not even entirely sure how much we have in our bank account; Xian manages the books, then cooks them himself, so even he doesn't really have much of a clue. We're not a millionaire, but neither are we really dirt poor.

All I'm pretty sure of is I empty at least a box a night on the range, which amounts to about a half dozen clips. Often I finish off almost a dozen clips worth before I need to go out and do something else, like say, go home to hide from the coming daylight. Or hunt.

I'm also sure that I needed just one more bullet tonight.

I'd decided to call it an early night and stretch my legs. I was feeling a little bit restless tonight, and I said an early goodbye to the night manager, Vic. He was a quiet sort, but I was starting to feel comfortable with him, which tells me that I should watch myself around him. I guess he was a nice guy, but he pretty much kept to himself, except for the few times we talked about guns.

Anyway, I said my goodbye, taking only the last two clips I hadn't emptied. Vic didn't have a problem with my concealed holster, so I didn't bother to make a whole show of keeping my pistol in a case along with the clips. Other nights, with others there, I would have made the effort. But Vic just waved me off with his casual bearded grin and said he'd see me tomorrow.

I let myself wander, much like Xian himself used to do, at least before he shut himself inside our mind with the burden and guilt he'd been dealing with. Still no solution to that, but I'm not in any rush. I'd started to enjoy these nights on my own, in control, not worrying that I had do bail him out yet again for his curiosity or carelessness. I could be curious and careless on my own, thanks very much.

Somehow, I found myself heading towards the Quarantine Zone again. This would mean passing through the sewers, but I never had any qualms about that. Neither did Xian, come to think of it. And I was in a mood to wander anyway, so I took the closest sewer entrance, hidden in plain sight and accessible in a way that could hide those who used it from passersby.

The sewers aren't as bad as most people think, though I would guess that it has more to do with the fact that they seemed to have been designed with vampires and other things that go bump in mind. The actual sewer system for the city does use the sewers, but much of it is actually routed through more modern piping and so on. So it's dark and dirty, but not quite as dirty as most would imagine. That, or I already had a pretty bad idea of what the sewers should look like.

Well, it was a short walk through the darkness, and soon I was lifting myself into one of the streets in the Quarantine Zone. In the distance, I could see something shambling, likely one of the unquiet not-so-dead that populate this place. Virus my arse. I hear it was some necromancy gone bad.

I'm not sure why I didn't see it coming. Maybe I was distracted by the zed in the distance. Maybe more of my attention was used up by an emo Xian than I realized. Maybe I was thinking things that I don't remember now, thrown out by the viciousness of what followed. But, definitely, had I seen it coming, had I any awareness of what was in store for me, I wouldn't have needed that one more bullet.

HE CALLS THIS PISTOL a Glock, but then again, I don't really expect him to know a lot about guns. Xian knows a lot about a lot of things, and he does know how to hold a pistol, mostly because I know how to, but this isn't just any Glock. I call her Ivy, and she's chambered for 10mm Auto. She's not custom-made, but much of her has been recrafted and replaced with, let's just say, "superior" components.

Not that Glocks by themselves are low-quality, not at all. I think their popularity has to do a lot with how good they are, and not just about how often they've been used in television and the movies. But I needed just a little more stopping power than a stock pistol, something that can take down us things that go bump, and those things that most people think have tiny wings.

So, Ivy. She fires 10mm Auto, and is basically a customized Glock 29SF. (I do have smallish hands, after all) The standard 29SF comes with a 10-round clip, but I've gone all-out and have her with a 15. Those extra bullets do come handy, especially if I go 15+1, which basically means a full clip with a round in the chamber. I do that when I'm expecting trouble.

And simply put, I wasn't really expecting trouble tonight. Well, I was in the Quarantine Zone, and I'd been attacked by a feral vampire here once before. But keeping a round in the chamber was a little risky, at least to my mind, and I'd been to the QZ enough times with no real consequence that I didn't think anything would happen that I couldn't handle or get away from.

Which is why I was taken completely by surprise by the monstrosity that had decided to park itself right outside the sewer exit into the Quarantine Zone. I'm not sure what part of it hit me, but I was knocked forward with so much force that I ended up nearly ten meters from where I was. I think if I hadn't had even a basic telekinetic shield up, it could have taken my head off.

Dazed from the blow, instinct guided my hands to my Ivy, while I tried to shake the stars from my eyes. The sight before me would have taken my breath away, and might have caught a squeak from Xian. I shook my head again, thinking I was probably seeing things, but before it could reappear as something more recognizable and not as a nightmare made flesh, the creature charged at me.

It seemed formless, with three or four arms attached with no real sense around its large body. Near headless, with a face that was more maw, it roared as it charged on three mismatched feet. Its agility and speed surprised me, and it was all I could do to push myself aside and roll away from its path. Frustrated, it ran past me, and stopped just a few arm lengths away, while I scrambled to get myself in some sort of defensible position.

A mooncalf. I'd heard about these things, or perhaps Xian had read of them, since I can't quite remember who had told me the tale. A creature of necromantic magic, it combined the bodies and parts of multiple dead things to create a more terrible, more powerful whole. In comparison to a house, this one was small, but it was still more than twice my mass, and would have towered over me even if I was standing up.

I avoided a second blow by kicking away while I tried to get up, my mind racing for the best avenue of escape. I didn't bother to entertain what this creature was doing here, now, or why it had chosen to attack me. From what Xian apparently knew, these were more guardians of powerful Necromancers, rather than things that randomly attacked lonely vampires like myself. But I didn't take the time to have any of those thoughts.

Instead my mind focused on the creatures appendages, how it moved its arms, where it placed its feet, how it balanced its body. As I managed to get into a crouch with Ivy still in my hand, I squeezed her trigger, firing almost random shots at the monstrous form. In the fractions of time between each shot, I tried to observe how the creature reacted to the gunfire, while keeping aware of any other aggressive moves.

I think I might have been hoping that it would jerk away at least a little bit, but it ignored even the rounds that struck it on its grayed, leathery skin. Still, I continued to empty the clip while I avoided several overhead blows. Round after round found its way through the short distance between us to pierce it, but it seemed to shrug off every single bullet. Then, I caught an opening, a brief instant when the creature's maw roared and lined up perfectly with the beautiful Ivy.

The slide locked back, I'd fired my last round just a moment before. It wouldn't have killed the creature, I've no illusions about that. But at least I could have had the satisfaction of putting a round into its big, ugly, dead face-mouth.

I paused, stupidly, instead of continuing my evasion of its many arms. Disappointed by the suddenly empty clip, I was unable to avoid all three (four?) arms that shot towards me with great intent to take off my head, or tear off a limb. Would it have added it to its collection, I wonder?

The blow sent me flying, then skidding, then rolling, right on top of the sewer entrance I had been trying to exit from just a brief time ago. Thankfully, our positions had reversed while it had tried to use the magic of its fists and claws to transform me into a puddle of blood and organs. I didn't bother to slide a fresh clip into Ivy; instead I slid myself into the sewer, just barely avoiding an arm reaching out to grab my leg.

Just one more bullet would have been nice. At least I could slink away and retreat with an illusion that I had hurt the creature.

HE IS NOT the only one with delusions, as much as I would sometimes like to think it. Xian's are far more encompassing, far more grand and definitely way more distracting, but I have my own, I have to shamefully admit. (Though who I admit this to, I always seem to ask myself when I write these things. Perhaps I admit them to myself? Much as I do not commonly find words, I find myself lost in them these days.)

For one thing, I often believe myself to be infinitely capable of taking care of myself, and of Xian. Obviously, given how that Mooncalf almost stomped and pounded me into the dirt, and how, until some time ago, I could barely take on the lesser fae, this is not completely true. I do like to think that whatever I cannot take down, I can run away from. But perhaps even that is a delusion.

It's one that I needed, much like Xian surrounds himself with illusions of the world that doesn't exist, so that I can wander and walk where he fears to, or doesn't care to. That's his problem these days, he doesn't care. But I need to, at least need to care about myself, ourself, keep our existence one continuous flow.

And if there is one delusion, there are often more. Xian's are deep and colorful, much like the deep blue of the dress he used to dream at night.

No, I don't know who that woman is either. She is not us. And I don't believe either that she is some subconscious memory or thought, a deep wise alter ego hidden deeper than I. No, I don't know her, and I don't completely trust her. But she served us well. But perhaps she is our delusion to share?

When any delusion is shattered, more often than not the person whose eyes are suddenly clear can have quite extreme responses. I imagine Xian would have a fit, to say the least, if he ever truly realized that I exist, and that we share our existences, for example. Perhaps he may even retreat deeper into himself, create yet another layer of delusion.

I am close to done with him. He needs to wake himself soon from his funk.

Anyway, right now, my delusions are my concern. How I have surrounded myself with this veil that makes me believe myself invincible. I am not. I am capable, that is true. But not infinitely so. There are many things in this world far stronger, faster, more capable, than I. And more than a few of them would like to wipe me out from it.

That is a sobering thought.

It's one of the thoughts I had while I sat in the sewers setting my bones and healing my torn skin. Clothes I could replace. Thankfully, bones and undead tissue, I could heal. If I had not been lucky enough to land where I did when the beast last struck me, my face would be no more than a smear on the already bloody ground of the Quarantine Zone.

When my right shoulder had healed enough, muscle torn arm displaced from its socket when I crashed into the sewer, I inspected Ivy. She was scratched, muddied and soiled, empty of rounds and would need a thorough cleaning, but she was whole. Nothing damaged or misaligned. Good. She had a near-twin who I adored as well, but I fancied her more. Don't tell Aqi that, of course.

I had fallen badly into the sewer, partly because of my rush, though I suspect my close call with that last blow was much closer than I first thought. I never knew I could feel so much pain, and I've had a lance driven into my skull. Yes, I remember that time, it's burned into my memory, and part why I've been trying to become stronger, faster, more capable. Partly why I allowed myself my delusion, so that I could face the world again.

It's good to know that my bones don't set like normal living bone; whatever drives my dead body to movement seems to also pull together the parts of me that are me into the right place. I suspected as much; after all, it makes an effort to quickly regrow burnt-off hair, even recreating the fading tint of red at its tips, the appearance I had when I died and was reborn. But it's satisfying to know I won't need to get my bones set after this debacle. At least I can keep my shame to myself.

Not that it should even be shameful to lose to that beast. I could imagine Reganlief, Keara, perhaps some of the others, could take one on without breaking a blood sweat. But most of us would definitely have to run. Or die, again. And I really don't want to know the answer to the big question of "will I come back if Xian dies," not now, and not likely ever.

But I'll keep this incident to myself, save my pride anyway.

When I could stand, my ankles again able to take my weight, my body rid of the shaking and shudders, I stood tall and cleaned myself up as best I could. Not quite presentable, but the sun would be up soon anyway, and most of the others would be in slumber, or at least I hoped.

I took out the tome given us by Keara, and went home.

I READ SOMEWHERE THAT it's far better to be lucky than good. But it's always better to be both. Of course, it's more than likely that it was actually Xian that did the reading, and I'm calling up a shared memory.

I've been thinking about that Mooncalf I ran into the other night. Dissecting the incident and what I can remember of it, what I did wrong, what I did right, what I should have done, what I need to do so I don't get caught like that again. I could say that I've been obsessing over it, but then I don't really see the problem with a healthy obsession. Particularly since this one could save my hide someday.

I think my biggest mistake that night was that I was distracted. I generally like to think that I am aware of everything around me, that I can see or sense every possible threat. It does help that we vampires have heightened senses, and that we seem to be more sensitive to things of a paranormal nature than normal living humans. It's another delusion of mine, I have to admit, since the truth is, I do miss things, though given the size of that creature, I shouldn't have missed it at all.

My only real solution to this is to remain vigilant. And to be aware of what my enhanced senses are telling me. Maybe this entire setup with Xian is hurting how we can hear our subconscious; we've so much conscious that maybe it drowns out the more creative, intuitive side of us? Thoughts he should be thinking about, not me.

Another possible solution isn't practical: don't walk alone. I've heard it said that we are generally solitary creatures, we vampires, that nonetheless crave social interaction. I myself often prefer my solitude, and I respect the solitude of others. I don't think I can actually ask another vampire with a solitary nature to walk behind me and watch my back all the time.

Another mistake, and this hurts my pride to admit, is that I panicked. This creature was new to me, and the stories I had heard of it helped to induce a state where I wasn't thinking as clearly as I normally do. This dulled my instincts and response times, and probably also affected my accuracy, which is my next thought.

As much as I have been practicing lately, I wasn't able to place my shots where they could be most effective. While a creature such as that would have strange biology, or as Xian likes to say it para-biology, but there would still be areas where a well-placed bullet would be more effective. Body shots, for example, weren't such a great idea, though they are the easiest to take. It's already mostly dead and just animated, after all. More effective would have been to take out knees, elbows, feet, things that would have restricted its movement, which would have allowed me more time to collect myself.

On further reflection, I was also firing in a pattern that would have distracted a more human opponent. The sound and flash of gunfire can do that, that's partly why cover fire works so well. Humans reflexively flinch from nearby hits, seek cover. So firing rapidly, while less accurate, can prevent return fire. That thing had no such instincts, at least that I can remember. It did not flinch, or even show pain.

I could have instead fired more precisely, which not only have conserved my limited ammunition, but would also have been more effective.

I think that one of my last major failings was believing that this creature was beyond my level of skill. While I have admitted that it has been a delusion of mine that I can take on anything and win, it's still also true that I am quick, skilled, and highly capable, and have made myself so. In believing that this creature was far worse than it was, far more capable than I was, I allowed myself to lose, even before I had a chance to win.

As much as I don't like to think about philosophy or psychology, there is a psychology to combat. And if I begin to believe that something is greater than I am, even if it is not, then I am allowing it an edge that I cannot afford to grant it, not if it is out to destroy me.

There is a middle ground, there is a way to correctly gauge my level of skill and my opponents' as well.

Tonight, I will hunt that creature down.