Silas sighed as he sat at the sports bar. His burger cooled slowly on the counter to room temp as he stared absentmindedly at the soccer game that was playing. Football he reminded himself, he wasn’t in the U.S. right now. He took a drink from the mug beside him.

  Normally he hated the taste of beer, but he needed the fuzziness that it offered him. He thought he could handle the loneliness of working out of the country. An Icon flashed in the lower left hand corner of his vision. He opened it expectantly.

  Instead of an update on how his wife’s surgery was going, he got a software update request. He had been alive before blood-born software was used for communication, and he had hoped that the irritating updates would be a thing of the past.

  He scanned through the mandatory business jargon. The software retains the right to call an ambulance in the event of an emergency. No data can be harvested, health standards will be updated, etc. Silas didn’t read any of the fine print, he wasn’t in the mood. He mentally prodded the ‘I agree and have read the terms and conditions’.

  Vision clear he looked around the sports bar to see everyone else with the same blank stare he had a few moments ago. Silas could tell by the length of said blank stare how much of the terms and conditions they had read through. Most only put a cursory amount of effort into it, but were concentrating.

  Silas returned to pushing his food around his plate. At least until one of the men across the pub jumped to his feet and started yelling, “Like hell, I’ll agree to that!”

  The man was also an American, though not with the army. Not even the officers could let their weight go that badly. Silas wouldn’t have given much thought to the angry tourist if the German people in the pub weren’t also looking concerned.

  A thought that was cut off when a red error message popped up. Silas blinked, software viruses were rare, but not unheard of and this message looked exactly like one he had been warned about. He frowned deeper when he read and then reread the text.

  Error: Internal contaminant detected. Spirit tap failed, please contact your local provider to fix this issue.

  Spirit tap? Silas looked at the drink sitting on the table. Tap, like tapping a keg? That did not sound good. It also didn’t sound possible. Spirits were a proven phenomenon and had an entire branch of science dedicated to researching them.

  Phantasmologists had been trying for a long time to figure out how they worked and had managed to confirm that humans had one, but that didn’t have anything to do with him. Silas tried to open up the terms and conditions again. What had he agreed to?

  His eyes landed on his mug again. Snorting he muttered, “A pub is the right place to read about spirits.”

  The white vision overlay showing the terms and conditions popped back up. He started to read when another red error message interrupted him. Silas tried to wave it away, he could get to it when he figured out what he had agreed to.

  When it did not move, Silas paid more attention. There had been a growing feeling of dread ever since the tourist started yelling. He was supposed to be able to close any message at any time, it was a safety feature for when vision was important. Silas hoped that the surgeons weren’t being distracted by this message.

  Error: You (Commune Inc.) have attempted to place a foreign object into your spirit. Spirits cannot be claimed by others. You (Commune Inc) will be purged with all future oversight given to the host.

  Warning: Anomalies may occur in the area of anyone who sees this message.

  The message closed as soon as Silas finished reading. Anomalies? The word was as far from descriptive as a description could get. Dropping toast and having it land jelly up was an anomaly. So was a plane falling out of the sky onto the pub.

  It also seemed to be targeted at Commune, the company that produced the biotech running through Silas’s bloodstream. Silas closed the remaining screens, thankfully he had control over all of them.

  Pushing his plate away, Silas stood. He needed to get back to base. If something was compromising his software he needed to get it purged. Sooner than later was best, he didn’t want to miss the end-of-surgery update his wife would send.

  He placed a fistful of cash on the table. The waiter could figure out what to do with the extra money. There was a screech of tires, a scream, and the bang of metal crunching. Silas had limited first aid training, it would be enough to keep someone from dying before an ambulance arrived.

  He threw the door open, stomping out onto the streets of Berlin. It was at this point that Silas understood that the red message’s anomaly was closer to a plane crash than a slice of toast. There was a crash, but not between two cars.

  A woman was screaming as she scrambled out of her car and away from the creature she had struck. Silas examined her briefly. She was fine, maybe she had some bruises from the airbag, but that was it.

  The thing she had hit was as large as a bison with grey fur and antlers growing from the top of a wolf-like skull. Its eyes were glassy, evidently, not up to taking an Opel Corsa to the face. As it was deceased, Silas felt confident approaching it. Well confident after he tossed a rock at it to make sure.

  He examined the beast’s impressive rack. Many hunters would be proud to mount this on their walls. Silas chuckled at some city woman killing the first recorded werewolf before the hunting enthusiasts did.

  After circling the creature he found that it was a bit smaller than he had first assumed. Its naturally hunched appearance made it appear larger than he had initially assumed. Tentatively he reached out and poked it.

  He jerked his hand back when his interface popped up with a yellow screen.

  Notice: you have made contact with spirit manifestation Lupus Cervidae. Would you like to purify the taint of Fenrir?

  The panel disappeared as soon as his hand broke contact. Silas waited a few seconds, but nothing happened. Tentatively he poked the antler a second time, just like before, the yellow message reappeared.

  Silas blinked at the message. That was not something his biotech should be able to say. Most governments limited its use to verbal and text-based communication alongside health data. He could get a sheet holding his vital signs, caloric needs, and BMI. A military add-on also let him keep track of his mile, bench, and instructions on protocol.

  None of that would allow the biotech to manufacture screens like this. What did Commune put in that contract? They wouldn’t screw with the US government, so it shouldn’t be too bad, at least that is what Silas hoped.

  Curious as to what purify meant, Silas mentally gave his affirmation.

  Notice: You are not the one who overcame Lupis Cervidae. Please find the one who overcame the Lupis Cervidae to excise the taint of Fenrir.

  Warning: Lupis Cervidae will revive in 9 minutes 32 seconds unless the taint of Fenrir is excised.

  Silas frowned, glancing down the street. The woman was long gone. He was not sure if the information given was accurate, the events of the last five minutes made his typically rational mind unsure.

  “No reason to stick around and find out either way,” Silas muttered. If he had his sidearm, he would have shot it through the back of the skull, but Europe was tight on gun control.

  That was when everything went to hell. Silas was not sure how figurative or literal that was. Something appeared in midair, a glowing line that emanated enough static electricity to cause Silas’s hair to stand on end. Honestly, the buzz cut made it almost unnoticeable.

  A pair of very familiar claws punched through the center of the line and peeled it apart. Silas watched, mouth slightly open. It would have looked awesome if those claws didn’t match the dead werewolf’s. For a moment he thought about shoving the dead werewolf aside and using the car a second time.

  A cursory examination of the hood made Silas pretty sure the car wouldn’t move. The frame had bent around the beast, pulling the wheel wells into the tires. The bang he had heard was likely the tires exploding, not the collision with the monster.

  He looked around for a place to hide, Berlin was dark and the streets were empty. There would be plenty of places to escape a human. Unfortunately, he was looking at an interdimensional wolf monster. Smell would likely be the larger concern.

  Silas wished he had tried to enter the Marines or army rangers, they might have some method of evading dogs. Wolves hunted through smell, he did have a way of obscuring his scent and acquiring some weapons. He glanced at the pub he had just exited.

  Could he lead the wolf away, maybe? Phantasmology was a relatively new field of study that Silas had not paid much attention to. It simply wasn’t possible to shoot specters. Would a spirit wolf be afraid of crowds like a regular one?

  Silas decided it would be better to test it out than to fight a monster alone. He moved back into the pub. It was noisier than the locals tended to be, but that was because the tourist had gotten into an argument with an off-duty constable.

  “You need to calm down, no more flipping tables or I will take you in,” The Berlin Police officer said in impeccable English.

  “You saw the red screen! We have a virus, this is an emergency,” The tubby tourist said, placing a hand threateningly on the table next to him.

  Silas saw the constable’s issue. Just because the tourist was out of shape didn’t make him small. The man was almost six and a half feet tall with a bushy beard and a bald spot on the top of his head. Fat could double as armor in a fistfight, which any confrontation would be at the moment.

  “Excuse me, Constable,” Silas yelled, the man turned irritably, “There has been a car wreck outside, the ambulance does not appear to be coming. Please keep watch over the occupants while I grab some first aid supplies.”

  The constable nodded, his focus instantly shifting to preserving life. He sprinted to the door and ran outside. Silas was in the kitchen, heading for the knife rack when he heard the officer yell.

  “Kacke!” The man yelled.

  Silas came out with a few blades, none as large as he would have liked. He was followed out by an angry cook who was in the middle of calling the police. There was little chance the cops would get here with werewolves running amuck.

  “What the hell is that!” The constable hissed at Silas as he ducked back inside the pub.

  “Sorry, I didn’t think you would believe me if I said ‘there’s a chupacabra outside,’” Silas said as he handed over a serrated meat knife, hilt first.

  “You're probably right,” He nodded, “Will it come in here?”

  Silas shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine. I wouldn’t bet against it, that's how all horror movies start.”

  The constable gave Silas a strange look, “I don’t think following movie advice will help.”

  “Exactly,” Silas agreed, “Hey, could you stack some tables against the door before a werewolf tries to break in.”

  Silas had been talking to the giant tourist, but it was one of the diners who started pushing a table over. Fortunately, the building lacked the floor-to-ceiling windows American restaurants tended to have. Still, there was enough glass for someone with a window seat to notice the lupine body.

  Most of the people here just watched the three men stack tables against the doors to the sound of a football game. Silas was irritated that no one else helped, but who would believe “block the door, there’s a monster.” He had already convinced the constable. If the werewolf went away things would be fine, if it didn’t, the officer was the only other trained man here.

  “Are you trying to trap me in here?” The tourist yelled.

  “Shhh,” several people hissed at him. They had collected around the windows watching the purple rift being torn wide.

  “Yeah, I’m not putting up with this,” the tourist muttered.

  Silas looked down at his knife. This would be terrible against the wolf, a bit more length would be worthwhile. He had a few other blades too small to be effective as knives but tied to a broom handle they might have value.

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  He handed the bread knife to the man who had helped stack the tables, then turned to the constable, “I’m going to make some improvements to our weapons, it shouldn’t take long.”

  With the help of the cook, who was now trembling, Silas found the maintenance closet. Using some duct tape he crudely made some makeshift spears. He was tossing the mop head into the back when his eyes landed on something useful.

  “Why do you have an axe in your maintenance closet?” Silas asked the cook. It was a good item considering the situation.

  “It's a fire axe,” The cook said, “There was an oil fire started here a decade or two ago. One of the waiters asphyxiated because the back was on fire and she didn’t have a key to the front. Since then the owner has had the axe.”

  Silas doubted the efficacy of such a solution. Waiters tended to be on the smaller side, and the pub had heavy wooden doors. He was not on the smaller side, and an axe would be useful.

  A shout from the dining area caused Silas to whirl and sprint to the front. He dashed through the kitchen and found a situation he should have predicted. The tourist was nursing a cut forearm and glaring at the constable who was now on the floor.

  “Don’t tell me what I’m allowed to do, it's a free country,” Then he grabbed their makeshift barricade and toppled it over.

  The constable scrambled to his feet still holding his knife. Silas could tell that killing the tourist would be the only way to stop what was about to happen. He could also tell that the constable lacked the mental fortitude to follow through. Silas was a soldier, but he had never seen live combat, he didn’t know if he would do any better.

  “Wait, you’ll die,” the constable pleaded, still trying to save the American’s life.

  “Screw off,” He pulled the door open just like the suicidal side characters always did. The result did not disappoint.

  A five-fingered claw shot through the doorway and sank knuckle deep into the tourist’s chest. He choked as both lungs were punctured and torn up as the fist clenched and jerked him outside by his sternum. It would have been a painful way to go if his heart hadn’t also been destroyed.

  There was a crunch and a tearing noise. Beyond that, Silas could hear sirens blaring, but he knew that would do little. Even in America with guns everywhere, beasts this large could ignore most conventional firearms.

  The constable glanced at Silas, “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know, do you think we run drills on how to fight grizzly-sized werewolves?” Silas asked. Fear filled the constable’s eyes, and Silas knew he had to offer some kind of plan before he froze up, “Alright, everybody, we have two options. The first is leaving through the back. It will get us away from the beast out front, but will expose us to any we don’t yet know about.”

  “Option two is we stay and fight. This creature is the size of a large grizzly bear,” Silas knew that they had little experience with bears, so he added a weight on, “This thing weighs at least half a ton, but has antlers that will reduce its movement indoors. So our choices are to face the unknown or face the threat before us.”

  The people in the pub seemed undecided. They had watched someone die, but the unknown could be worse. Silas had already made up his mind to stay, giving up a position that disadvantaged an enemy was foolish. The biotech messages made it seem like things like this would be occurring all over areas, based on population.

  Berlin had nearly four million people.

  “I will stay, so long as any German citizen is here,” He gave Silas an apologetic look.

  Silas could only shake his head. The constable’s job was protecting German citizens, Silas couldn’t blame him for that. Well, he could, but it wouldn’t be reasonable.

  “I will stay,” an older gentleman said taking up a makeshift spear.

  Half the room chose to stay, while the other half slunk off like they were doing something wrong. They weren’t, Silas could have easily picked a fight that could have been avoided. Maybe this was the only place to see these monstrous creatures. He doubted it.

  “I, I think I’ll go,” The cook said, voice trembling.

  “Best of luck,” Silas said.

  He took a risk and poked his head out the door. A tearing noise could be heard outside, but that alone did not tell Silas how long he had until the beast was done with its meal.

  Bile rose in his throat as he watched an arm be swallowed whole. Thankfully the deep shadows cast by the creature obscured the body. Silas guessed they only had a minute or two.

  Movement caught the corner of his eye. A twitch came from the hood of the wrecked car. Silas watched in horror as the deceased werewolf jerked a few times before shoving itself to its feet.

  “Damnable sin,” Silas swore as he scrambled backward, “There’s a second one!”

  “What?” Was all the constable got out before he was cut off by a howl.

  One, then two howls synchronized into one unsettling harmony. There was more than one. More importantly, they were seemingly immortal.

  “Back up!” Silas yelled at the constable, who was right behind him.

  The constable obeyed, which saved his life as one of the werewolves slammed into the doorframe. Silas thanked whoever built this place that German buildings were made of more than gypsum and two-by-fours. The frame cracked and an arm reached through almost carving into the constable’s wide eyes.

  Silas snarled, “I didn’t join the army to get taken out by a bipedal mutt.”

  Then he brought his axe down on the exposed elbow. The head sank into the flesh, biting through cartilage, but not cutting all the way through. A whimper of pain and the appendage was jerked back through the door. Silas nearly lost his grip on his weapon, but it tore free at the last moment.

  He was left standing in the doorway looking into a puddle of monster blood, “Come on, I’ve got more to give, come and take it!”

  “Why are you yelling at them?” The constable chastised.

  That brought Silas back to his senses. Evidently, he had the fight reflex. That made him feel a bit proud as if possessing a flight reflex would have made him less of a man. The distraction nearly cost him as he barely dove out of the way when a pair of horns thrust through the doorway.

  He landed in a roll that put him on his back, so he could clearly see when the beast's shoulders hit the doorframe. The stressed frame finally collapsed letting the wolf barrel in. A diner was impaled as she failed to evade the beast.

  Silas scrambled after the monster, the horns had imbedded themselves in the far wall keeping the beast’s head still for a precious moment. Like a man kneeling for execution, the creature’s neck was exposed.

  Many animals had tough bones, cows had skulls that could deflect bullets. Silas aimed for the gap between the skull and the spine, right where the brain stem was exposed. The werewolf stiffened as the axe sank in. It wasn’t quite dead, but it could no longer send control signals to its body.

  Silas drew a knife and pointed at an elderly man who was shielding a younger woman. Probably his daughter, “You take the tablecloths and pack that the woman’s wounds, girl you get some hard liquor from the kitchen and pour it over the cloth.”

  They jumped at the sudden address but hurried to comply. The elderly man was ready to catch the impaled woman, who was screaming at the shoulder and gut puncture. Silas slit the werewolf’s throat and pulled.

  It was heavy but had also been trying to pull itself free. Gravity assisted Silas as he freed the unfortunate woman to have her injuries packed. Without professional intervention that gut injury would go septic, Silas hoped that stopping the bleeding would give her that time.

  “Second one looks like it's about to try again,” The constable yelled, “though it can see its dead companion, that might be enough deterrent.”

  That reminded Silas. He placed a hand on the werewolf.

  Notice: you have made contact with spirit manifestation Lupus Cervidae. Would you like to purify the taint of Fenrir?

  This time he was given a different response when he gave his approval. The body released a black miasma that was converted to a glowing purple mist. It coalesced into a glowing symbol of a wolf’s head floating in the air over the monster’s spine. Silas blinked at the purple energy construct.

  “Is anyone else seeing this,” Silas asked.

  Several nods were returned. He reached out to touch it when one of the dinners shouted, “Wait, what if it's dangerous? None of us can fight let one of us test it.”

  It was the man who had helped Silas and the constable stack tables. Silas glanced at the constable for approval. Cold logic dictated that the least capable member should take the risk. People did not function on logic.

  The constable shook his head, “No, while I agree with his statement, it is my duty to risk myself for my people.”

  Silas was unsure how that translated to poking an unknown energy construct, but there were bigger problems to deal with. He stepped back, readying his axe for the second one to rush them.

  The constable went through the process of testing for danger. He started by tossing a piece of debris at the icon before poking it. Nothing happened so he poked it with a table leg. When that garnered no response, he poked it with his toe.

  Silas’s vigil was interrupted by a message, this one a white with a grey border.

  Notice: Someone is attempting to claim the sigil of the Lupus Cervidae will you allow this?

  Warning: this will degrade the Lupus Cervidae sigil as the recipient has not earned the reward.

  Silas shrugged and gave his affirmation, the man had wanted to be a guinea pig. If something bad happened it would be lesser, a win-win in Silas’s opinion. On the flip side, if it was something good, there was always another werewolf to take down.

  “I can take it,” the constable announced, then the purple sigil disappeared, “I took it.”

  At the exact moment, the sigil vanished, the second wolf monster howled. It rushed in with an awkward pace. Silas got ready to receive the new danger. The lessened speed was actually a problem, it was slow enough that it would not get stuck in the far wall.

  Silas rushed to the widened doorway, standing off to the side. The monster would still have to go through head first. Unfortunately, the beast was not quite as dumb as it appeared. A clawed hand reached around the corner to grab Silas.

  Dancing back, he struck at it, trying to sever its opposable thumb. Axe work was not something he had invested much time into. He had chopped wood before, but wood did not move or try to grab people. The blade hit the wrist and chipped the bone, but ultimately accomplished little.

  The hand reached out in a flash and grabbed the axe, tearing it from Silas’s hands. He had no hope of resisting the inhuman strength. Once he was disarmed, the werewolf entered. Silas expected to die right there, one flick of those antlers would filet his body. However, the beast only had eyes for the constable.

  He was staring into the air. Silas couldn’t believe the man’s stupidity. Was he reading his biotech screens right now?

  “Wake up you fool!” Silas yelled.

  The constable’s eyes cleared just in time for the monster’s rack to slam into him. Silas expected the werewolf to smear the constable across the pub before pinning him to the wall. Instead, the man caught the antlers.

  He slid back until he hit the wall, but once he had something to brace himself off of the beast was stopped. Silas paused in his pursuit of the monster and took a good look at the constable. What looked like ghostly antlers rose from his head and a translucent copy of the monster’s claws coated his forearms.

  Silas saw his arms start to buckle. It was clearly not an absolute strength. Whatever this new power was, it would not last. Silas changed directions and scooped his axe up. If the constable could hold for a few more moments.

  He rushed in, weapon raised. One yellow eye focused on Silas. He had a moment to halt his forward movement and back peddle as the werewolf whipped its rack around. Silas managed to avoid the sharp points, but not the constable.

  The constable lost his grip but managed to keep his feet. Silas was tossed into the pile of tables by the door. He groaned as he pushed himself up from a pile of broken table legs and a cracked top. At least he didn’t get any holes poked him, he had to count those silver linings.

  Without giving Silas a second glance, the beast lowered its head and charged straight for the antlered constable. Thankfully, the constable managed to hold off the antlers and claws, though he wasn’t winning. Several bleeding wounds on his shoulders impeded his movements. The ghostly apparitions were flickering, clearly on the edge of shorting out.

  The werewolf still only had a single real injury from Silas’s initial axe strike. He glanced at the axe, the monster was clearly wary of it. The constable was too injured to respond to any distraction Silas could provide, so his strike would need to count.

  Drawing his knife he ran in on the werewolf’s injured side. It tried to respond by slapping him aside. However the elbow was broken, flopping uncontrollably. Silas avoided it, then stepped up to the beast’s neck. It tried to bite him, but the constable held the antlers keeping its head still.

  Silas stabbed the werewolf in the neck and he didn’t stop until the yellow eyes lost their luster. He didn’t even let the body hit the floor before he initiated the purification. The miasma was like the humidity around a rotting body in a warm environment. Silas would have vomited if he had eaten his burger.

  The miasma was consumed in purple energy that tingled. Silas took a step back and shivered. Despite being in the military, this was his first taste of true violence. He wasn’t sure if liking the adrenaline rush made him a bad person.

  Notice: Someone is attempting to claim the sigil of the Lupus Cervidae will you allow this?

  Warning: this will degrade the Lupus Cervidae sigil as the recipient has not earned the reward.

  Silas glanced up to where the sigil was floating. The diner who had helped them stack tables was swiping his hand through it. When he saw Silas watching him with a raised eyebrow, he backed off. He was going to take this one, however now that both threats were neutralized he had some information to gather.

  “What was up with the superpowers,” Silas gestured to his head, then his arms.

  The constable was sitting on the floor heaving his dinner all over the floor. Silas gave the man a minute to collect himself. He took that time to look outside. The portal was gone, at least there wouldn’t be an inter-dimensional hole spewing monsters in like a faucet.

  Sirens echoed over the city and the red glow of fire was reflected off the clouds. Berlin was in trouble. These two monsters were only stopped due to a confluence of uncommon tools and luck. Without the axe, they would have died. Without the constable’s superpowers, they would have died.

  “Matteo, my name is Matteo. Thank you for saving me,” the constable said.

  Silas moved back to Matteo’s side, “Silas, I would like to say good day, but it's not really the phrase that comes to mind.”

  Matteo laughed hoarsely, “That’s a bit of an understatement. I am guessing you want to know about the sigil?”

  Silas nodded, “Of course, who doesn’t want to be superhuman?”

  “Does your government make the health panel a mandatory addition to the biotech?” Matteo asked, when Silas nodded, “Open it, does it look the same?”

  He brought it up. It listed his heart rate, blood sugar, blood pressure, and calories to be burned today, it was all the standard things. One thing had changed. Under the heading, it had replaced the word healthy with the word pending.

  “It swapped the heading to pending,” Silas said.

  Mateo nodded, “I didn’t get to see that, but now my health and fitness panel measures my body, mind, and soul. I have one of three possible sigils and a list of titles, constable is a title apparently. The sigil I got from the wolf monster is Lesser Pack Guardian.”

  He stopped talking, his eyes shifting back and forth, obviously reading something. Silas waited, irked that he couldn’t see what was going on. Glancing back at the vibrant sigil, he realized that he could, so long as he took a risk.

  “It’s a full body enhancement, like steroids I guess,” Matteo said, “It says that it has a minimum of a ten percent increase and a maximum of two hundred percent, growing with the number of people I am protecting.”

  Silas raised an eyebrow, Matteo had stopped a half-ton monster with only triple his normal strength. The man was strong, even without his sigil. That was also the lesser version. It was not unlikely that whatever Silas received would be the full version.

  “Also it says I have a talent for juggling,” Matteo sounded very confused by the statement.

  “Like, you have good hand eye coordination?” Silas asked, “Or you’re good at tossing things into the air?”

  “I don’t know,” Matteo said a bit defensively, “I have some strange deer wolf spirit in me and my biotech is acting out. I might get dissected by United Nations phantasmologists and to top it all off monsters tried to eat me.”

  Silas shrugged, “Look at the bright side, you aren’t getting chased by monsters anymore.”

  Matteo gave Silas a reproachful look. He knew he shouldn’t have said it as soon as the words left his mouth. At least they had the spare brain space to joke about jinxing their situation.

  “Do you have any new urges, like sniffing butts or peeing on trees?” Silas asked. Super strength was cool and all but not at that cost. His wife would not be able to handle it if he started marking their small home in the Midwest.

  Matteo’s eyes widened in horror, evidently having a similar train of thought, “I don’t know. I, I.”

  Silas felt bad about stressing the man when nothing could be done about it. Stepping forward, he kneeled and placed a hand on the constable’s shoulder, “Hey, don’t worry. A man is defined by his actions, not his urges. You are a man who saved twenty people, that’s something worth being proud of.”

  The diner lit up purple as something much larger than the floating sigil crackled into existence.