WAR: WIIGF 16 (Patreon)

Chapter 16: The Ripple Effect

Apparently, word traveled fast in the dark parts of Blüdhaven. 

Faster than bad rumors at school, it spread all the way through the vampire hunting cult he’d gotten himself caught up in. From the nuns to the street soldiers, they were all talking. 

Killing a handful of Newborns wasn't shit apparently, just another Tuesday night for the silver-slinging psychopaths. But killing a Neonate, a real one with actual strength behind it, doing it clean and efficient; that was different. That wasn't just taking out the trash. 

That was a statement.

And now everyone was looking at him like he was the one who wrote it in blood.

Next time he was under the Church, down in that stink of old incense and whatever else that made it smell so bad, he saw it in the way the other Crosscutters watched him. The ones who usually didn't even glance his direction when he walked through the basement, now they followed him with their eyes. Little side-eyed glances when they thought he wasn't paying attention. I'm always lookin', dumbass. Sharingan or not, he'd been tracking eyes since he was eight and Harry started getting heavy with the hands.

Even Marcus — the same pissed-off Bludhaven beat cop on leave — just nodded at him during their last training session. Kenny wasn’t sure he liked it all that much, at least not from the angry man playing at drill sergeant. The beatings were simple. 

The beatings were easy to understand at least.

This shit came with expectations.

Even Father Keane had that look after the Cutters told him what went down that first night out with the crew. After Lucky had finally stopped yelling about the magic sunglasses appearing out of nowhere and Tyke had given his quiet one-word confirmation of the kill, the priest just sat there behind that big wooden desk of his. Fingers steepled together like some movie villain, those old tired eyes looked over those glasses at Ken like he was a math problem to solve.

The father hadn't said much at first, the silence saying everything for him.

Then, after what felt like the longest, the man just nodded and called it 'exemplary work'. He ev even said Ken had shown 'a profound aptitude for the craft'. Profound aptitude for the craft. All that fancy talk just meant one thing when you stripped away all the other bullshit: You’re a killer, Kenny.

Technically a Slayer.

To be fair, he did have a team of misfits, a redhead doing magic, and on top of that, some weird super-strength of his own. 

Maybe I am a Slayer.