Chapter Thirty-One – Anti-Vampire Measures

“What can be more innocent than cute videos of cats and dogs playing and being wholesome? But there’s a danger in such things! Cute-Addiction is a REAL and PRESSING issue that is affecting MILLIONS of young Americans right now.

Enemies of our proud nation are seeding our internet with disgusting videos of kittens and puppies and… and otters being cute and cuddly. Why? It’s not because they love such things themselves! It’s to distract US from the REAL issues!”

–The Fear Inquirer, Issue 144, June 2032

***

Crackshot offered for us to stay and have a bit to eat.

I said no, because I was a little worried about what Nya might get up to back home.

Then Crackshot said that he was hungry, and walked over to the kitchen to start cooking something up. He looked very comfortable with the place. Casually pulling things out of the fridge and lighting up the stove. I didn’t take him for much of a cook either, but the man soon had a buttered up pan on the stove with a cut of steak on it as thick as my thumb.

We chatted about not much at all while he cooked, and soon I was second-guessing my earlier refusal real hard as the smell of charring meat rose up.

Crackshot somehow volunteered Shy to help mash potatoes and I was suddenly tasked with setting plates and utensils down on the kitchen’s island, which was weird, because I had definitely said no to him earlier when he asked if I wanted to stay to eat, and yet here I was putting down plates for three.

“I feel like I’ve been tricked somehow,” I said.

“Eh, it’s the good kind of trickery,” Craskshot said with a boyish grin. “My grandma taught me this one! You go to her place and you’re not leaving so easily. Besides, these are real steaks, from a real cow. ‘Wagyu’ they call it. I passed some through a processor the other day to make burgers and Audrey almost had my head. They make a mean steak though.”

Crackshot seasoned the steak with what looked like random stuff he found on a spice rack in one of the cabinets, and somehow that only made it smell better. He might have gone a little hard on the garlic, ripping one apart and cooking it straight up in the grease and butter of the pan, but… shit, it smelled too good for me to complain.

“G’damn,” I muttered past a mouthful.

“I know, right!” Crackshot said. He cut off another slice of meat, which wasn’t hard, it kept coming apart with just a twist of the fork. The mashed potatoes were good too, especially with the garlic mixed in.

It was kind of simple, but better than anything I’d ordered out of a machine before.

“You know, I could get used to the samurai life.”

“You weren’t already?” I asked.

He scoffed. “It’s only been a couple of weeks for me! I mean, I hear it ain’t much longer for you, but… you know, my life had a direction before all this, and it weren’t a pretty one.”

I nodded, and I think Shy did the same on my other side. She was sitting and using me as a sort of barrier. I think Crackshot’s friendly sort of extroversion was alright with her, but she wasn’t talking too much all the same.

“So, I kinda figure things are going well with you and Emoscythe. Audrey, I mean. But like… you planning on making this a big thing?” I asked.

Crackshot snorted. “A big thing? Well… I don’t know. My family has always been proper sorts, you know?”

“I really don’t,” I said.

He grinned at me. “Figures. I meant… my mom and dad were married, their parents too. I’m not one for religion or anything, but I am one for a big wedding party.”

“Whoa, thinking about marriage already?” I asked.

He shrugged one shoulder. “That’s how I am, you know. If you like a woman you give her a ring and hope she likes you back. Not sure if Audrey is the one for that, though. She strikes me as… well, her own sort of person. Doesn’t seem the sort who’d want to be tied down by a country hick like me. I guess I’ll see how things go? If it’s just a few weeks of rolling in the hay and then we part on good terms, then I guess I’ll be a big boy about it.”

I reached over and patted Crackshot on the shoulder. Dude was a good guy. Also, a surprisingly good cook, all things considered.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lucy was still better, though.

“Alright,” I said as I leaned back and resisted the urge to pat my belly. “That was good, but I really did just come here to check up on you.”

“That’s kind,” Crackshot said.

“I’m doing it because I have a gun to my head, not because I’m nice,” I replied.

He grinned back at me. “Sure,” he said. “But uh… hey, if you’re checking in on people, maybe give Hedgehog a look?”

“He’s on the list,” I said.

“Alright,” Crackshot said. “Anyway, I’m fine. I’ll let you know if Audrey kicks me out and I need a sofa to crash on.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I think Shy has a really nice sofa at her place.” Shy’s head whipped up real fast, and from the wide-eyed look of surprised betrayal on her face, she was very much not in favour of that. I laughed, and punched Crackshot in the bicep. “Kidding. You know where I live, yeah? Big cat, can’t miss it. Pop on by whenever, but don’t give the kittens, uh, the orphans living at my place, any weird ideas. I don’t need them to start talking with a hick accent.”

“Hah! We’ll see. I’m the cool uncle to a lot of nieces and nephews, you know? Even more so now that I’m all samurai’d up.”

“I’m sure,” I said. “Anyway, I’ll keep doing the rounds, but not tonight. Need to head back home and make sure the place is still standing, you know? See you around?”

“See you around. Let me escort the two of you ladies to the door, at least.”

Crackshot was… a gentleman? Was that the term for it? He was polite without the politeness coming from him being worried that if he wasn’t he’d get his ass whooped. It was politeness just because… it was nice to be that way?

Different from how I was raised, but whatever. It was nice, and I could see what Audrey saw. Still, not my type, but I’d trust him around the kittens and I’d trust him with my back, which was a damned sight more than I could say about just about anyone else in New Montreal.

Shy and I slipped out of Emoscythe’s place with our bellies full and I think in a good mood. “What’s you think of him?” I asked as we started back towards the Bastion.

“Uhm,” Shy said. It took a while for her to find her words, but we were just walking back, so there was no rush. “He’s nice.”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s nice. Damned good shot too. Did you know I gave him his samurai name?”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yup! Crackshot Cowboy, because… well, you know. I think people drop the Cowboy part out a lot. Maybe I’m not so good at naming things.”

“It’s a good name,” Shy said. “Grasshopper named me.”

“Ah, yeah, she’s a good sort.”

Shy nodded. “Are you, we, meeting anyone else?”

“Tonight? Nah. I’m heading home. Did you want me to drop you off?”

She nodded, then shook her head. “My car.”

Right, it was at my place. “If you want to crash at my place instead of driving in the dark, I do have a couch. And maybe a spare room or two.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Yeah, I wouldn’t want to risk Nya getting comfy in the night either if I was her.

Shy and I hopped into the Bastion soon after. There were more people gawking at it now than earlier, but I couldn’t find it in me to care if some teens wanted to take selfies with the ship behind them as long as they didn’t get touchy with it.

We took off, direction home, and soon enough I could see the familiar cat-topped building standing out from the other skyscrapers in my corner of New Montreal.

I loved my home, but it was weird how much… smaller it was feeling recently. Just a few months ago I felt like the city was an unending shithole, misery at every corner and maybe some luxury above. And now that I lived above, it didn’t feel quite as big.

Weird how that worked out.

Weird how I didn’t care as much as I should have about the people below still. Maybe I could do something about it? Lucy was already helping in her own way, and… yeah, I think some of the other samurai in the area might not mind joining in. It could be as simple as getting food out and making sure the sewers weren’t the only thing we fixed.

“Hey, Shy, you ever thought about what you could do to fix the city?” I asked.

“Um… not really?” she said. “I mean… sometimes, but it would need to be… big, to really fix things.”

“Big, huh?”

***

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