Mankind harnessed fire with frenzied purpose. Few fears are as hard-baked into humanity as a fear of the dark. Light grants mankind a delusion of safety and significance. Animals understand this truth: the darkness comes for everyone, in the end. There is no true victory against it. Light exists because the darkness allows its existence.[break]
It little surprises the dog that the recruits part around Zev Harcourt like a mythological sea. When the other option smiles as sweetly as mint frost can, most with good sense would obey their instincts. Whatever wisdom can be gleamed from such places comes at a price.[break]
This creature paid his toll to the darkness long ago, and so it does not immediately frighten him the way it does others. Grunts whisper, looking at the dog like he himself is a mad thing as he walks up to the dark.[break]
"General." He is no military man. Where others might salute, he rests his hand on the pommel of his sword and nods. "Got anything for me today?" His unspoken message is clear: you have my blade.

Quiet intrigue plays across the dog's eyes at that. Discipline training. Once upon a time, when he was a dog fresh cut loose into the wilderness finding his own path, he needed that in spades. That he can stand composed is a karmic debt he owes to the void standing before him, which with all the unconscious certainty of an animal he knows he will one day pay. Other grunts play at having the same certainty and conviction, but they are unforged, untempered things. They will learn his lessons and survive the coming battle, or they will not.[break]
Either way, the universe will be indifferent. More will replace them, or their successes will be applauded.[break]
He nods at his general, and falls in line behind him. If work needs doing, he will do it. Though his eyes spy fern delaney, a man he adores for making jayden cross smile, he stays with his general.[break]
"Don't lie to him if you don't think you've got what it takes, boys." He warns the grunts, who eye the armband denoting him as a SPECTRA agent. "He'll know."[break]
That's the only warning they'll get from him. He turns, and follows his general.

While the pack walks to the warehouse, the dog enjoys the sunlight while it lasts. Where they're going, light will not avail them. His fellows do not yet understand their purpose. Quietly, the dog wonders what brought them all here. Those are stories for another day. Today's story requires focus.[break]
They've got a rat problem. One such rat has been designated his to kill. Both eyes flick to the other grunts, studying them and the inevitable hesitation most feel. It is not an easy thing, for men to kill one another. Something inside them has to die first, a flicker of their innate humanity.[break]
That died within him long ago, and all that is left is a two-legged beast. The General speaks the order, and the dog follows. All he can offer the bound man is the dignity of observation and the professionalism of a quick death. Out comes a tanto, his own blade. He always kills with his own weapons. It slides between ribs like he's carving a piece of cake. The heart is pierced. He gurgles, and he dies.[break]
"Playin' a game with someone's life?" He looks into the void while he cleans the blood off his blade. "Nah. If you've got a guy bound up like this, he's marked fer death."[break]
In his mind's eye, he sees the ghost of a little girl, and a needless kill.[break]
"You wouldn't do this unless yer sure he's gotta go." For all the fear this dark thing shaped like a man inspires when he looks to long, it still follows a code of professionalism.