“So what do you think? Can we get some of your Generals to come to the press conference?”

Nayib asked. One hand held a chocolate bar, the other was waving up and down. His belly was shaking as he talked. Fenryr hated looking into those beady eyes, but Nayib was technically his ‘boss’. So he had no other option. He shifted from one foot to another.

“I told you already, I’ve informed them but it’s their prerogative to come or not.” Fenryr looked at his watch. He still had another half hour to go.

“Yes. But I need them here. The military applications of what we’re doing are immense. IMMENSE!”

The last word was shouted. Fenryr grimaced as he wiped some crumbs of chocolate off his suit.

“I’m sure it is. I’ll give them another call in the afternoon after the first test. Maybe a positive result will convince them to come down.”

He wasn’t paying attention to what Nayib was saying. His mind was running the fourth form. His wrists were making the minute adjustments that distinguished a master swordsman from the hack-and-slash kind. A fake! The enemy to Fenryr’s left feinted once, he had to readjust. A minute twist of the wrist as he brought the sword back across his body. An imperceptible motion of the forearm as he thrust deep into his assailant’s heart.

“So what do you think?” Nayib was looking into his face. Chocolate framing his mouth.

“Yes.. Uh.. great. Will you excuse me for a second?”

Fenryr had no idea what he was talking about, and no intention on hanging around to find out. He shuffled sideways and made for the exit. On his way he noticed someone slouched in the corner. Someone he knew in passing. Smith was watching him, so he had no choice. Fenryr walked over.

“Hello Smith! How’s the man of the hour feeling?”

Fenryr looked over him, noticing how that may have sounded sarcastic. Smiths face was drawn. Eyes red, his shirt was coming untucked. There was a faint smell of alcohol coming from him.

Smith looked up at Fenryr. He loomed over him. Easily six foot tall, he filled his suit in a way only a man who worked out could. His face was tanned and strong. His nose was wide. He had maybe a day’s growth of beard on it. He didn’t really know much about Fenryr. No one at the office really did. He was the liaison to some military. The rumors were it was a secret UN global army. Amanda had tried to find out for them, but had returned totally frustrated at the lack of answers. His eyes were a steely grey.

“Oh. Fenryr. Man of the hour, yeah right. I can’t wait to get home.” Smith swallowed the ‘and drink’.

Smith spotted Amanda. She was in the middle of the office. She saw him looking them looked away. She was clearly still mad.

“So why are you called Fenryr? That can’t be your real name.”

Smith was making conversation. He was still looking in Amanda’s directions. She was still oblivious.

Fenryr chuckled. Rolled up his left sleeve. Smith saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look.

On his forearm was a tattoo of a wolf. A giant black beast with hair whipping in the wind. Its mouth was open in a menacing growl, fangs bared.

“This is why. It’s a nickname I picked up in high school after I got this. That’s Fenrir. He’s a wolf in Norse mythology that kills the King of the Gods. My dad had a painting of him hanging over his bed. For some reason he was obsessed with killing Gods.”

Fenryr shrugged his shoulders as if to indicate he had no idea what his father had been on about.

“I got this after he died. My way of honoring him.” He looked down at the tattoo, tracing a few of the lines. Smith could tell from the set of his face he was remembering his father.

Fenryr looked up. He was a bit embarrassed that he had told Smith about something so personal. He stood there for a few more moments, letting the awkward silence extend. He saw Smith looking over at Amanda, a look of longing on his face. He grinned slightly and clapped a hand on Smiths shoulder.

“I have to go now. Some calls to make.”

Smith waved him away, eyes still on Amanda. Fenryr drifted away.

He found himself alone in the corridor outside. Once he shut the door, it was silent. There were a few boxes stacked up against the far wall. They looked abnormally white in the lighting. Fenryr looked over them. They were wires and nuts and bolt. Odd ends for the machine. He walked past them, aimlessly wandering.

He found himself outside the Gym. He looked down at his watch. He had a few minutes to kill. His hand itched to be wrapped around the hilt of a sword, but he wasn’t carrying anything today. Instead he went inside, stripped off his suit and shirt. He stood for a minute feeling the scars that decorated his chest.

There was one right over his heart. He had gotten that a few weeks after his father died. He was late coming home from school one day, and was so busy on the phone he hadn’t realized he had taken a wrong turn. He found himself in the middle of a group of men. All older than him, all bigger. They started pushing him around, asking if he had a girlfriend, asking what his mother did.

The sorrow and rage pent up from his father’s death and the insinuations about his mother who had died giving birth to him, chose that particular moment to manifest. He felled the first of them with a straight punch to the face. But by the time he had pulled his arm back, he was overwhelmed. He had blacked out after the first few kicks, waking up in the hospital a few days later. The doctors were still amazed the knife hadn’t gone clean through his heart. They explained to him that the knife had somehow bent just before piercing it. The doctors didn’t know how or why. One of the nurses was sure he had a guardian angel.

Fenryr got his act together after that. He signed up for self defense classes and pretty soon was taking extended martial arts training. He was excellent at it all, but was in another league all together when it came to swords. After getting the basics down, he quickly outstripped his teachers.

Fenryr looked down at his hands. There was a nick on his left thumb which he’d gotten the first day he had picked up a sword. He had charged headlong into his instructor. His master had sidestepped, and lightly ran the edge of his word over Fenryr’s exposed thumb. Any deeper and he would have severed the thumb clean off. Fenryr had thrown his sword to the ground, sucked on the blood and asked his master,

“When someone’s pointing a gun at me, how does it matter if I know how to hold a sword or not?

The master came over and placed an arm around his shoulders and said something Fenryr had never forgotten.

“Sometimes my son, something that seems for nothing can often lead to everything”.

Back then Fenryr hadn’t paid attention. It seemed the typical gibberish every master told their students. But he had picked up the sword, placed his mask back on and resumed training. He hadn’t looked back since.

A noise brought him back to reality. It was his watch. He had set an alarm to know when he was needed back. He frowned at it and pressed a button to make it stop. He looked down. His shirt and jacket were lying in an untidy pile. He wanted to run the forms. To feel the thrill he had when he was slicing through the air. His favorite sound was the whistle his sword made. He picked up a metal rod that was up against the wall. It was maybe an inch thick. It had two palm sized patched placed roughly shoulder width apart. It was one of those bench press bars. The weights were piled up next to it.

Fenryr held one end of it tightly in both hands. He twisted his hands to get a better grip. He felt the metal grinding into his palm. It was cold. He took his stance, rod held high at his side. He took a deep breath and started form 1. He flowed through the motions sweeping left and right, blocking and parrying. He feinted imaginary opponents, dodged their attacks and punished any openings. Form 1 slipped into form 2 as he became more aggressive. He advanced forward, rod swinging in wide arcs. Form 2 melted into form 3 as he leapt back. His feet were placed wide apart. He bent low to the ground. He transferred the sword to his right hand. His left was free, for balance and support. He was about to start form 3 when he heard clapping from the door.

Amanda was standing at the door. Her face was flushed. Her lips were slightly parted. She was looking him up and down, taking great interest in the rippling muscles. A thin film of sweat had formed on his chest. He picked up a towel form the pile nearby and wiped himself down. He turned his back to her and put his shirt back on. All the while Amanda just watched.

“Don’t get dressed on my account.” Her voice was light, and very close. Fenryr turned around to see her right behind him.

“Amanda? What are you doing here?” He put his jacket back on. Rolled his shoulders to get it in position.

“Nayib sent me to get you. We’re waiting in the office. He had no idea where you were.” She placed a hand on his arm and drew close.

Fenryr pulled away. He had overheard stories of her and didn’t want to become part of her legend. He made a show of looking at his watch and said,

“I think Smith’s looking for you. Maybe you should go talk to him”

He felt the hand being pulled back. Amanda’s expression changed in an instant. The coy, breathless expression she had vanished. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth clamped into a thin line.

“Is he. Thanks for telling me. Now you’re expected. Hurry up and get to the office.” She turned and left the room. Fenryr saw a few strands of hair slipping from her bun.

He smiled to himself and wiped the sweat from his face. He went to the vending machine and put in a few coins. Pressed one of the buttons and a metallic ‘clang’ later, he was sipping a coke.

He headed out of the gym, closing the door behind him. The corridor was empty. He leaned against a wall and sipped his coke. It was very cold. And very refreshing. He felt eyes on him. He turned his head to the left where he had just come from. Empty. Then to the right. Empty again. Fenryr took another sip of his coke. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. He looked back to the left. A man in a white suit with blond hair was staring at him.

“Well, Fenryr, how are you today?” The man asked. The stress on his name seemed to indicate that the man knew him somehow, but Fenryr had never seen him before.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” He was sure the corridor had been empty. He hadn’t heard any doors opening or closing. His free hand went instinctively to his waist. Where had this man come from?

The man reached out and pointed right at Fenryr’s heart.

“How’s the old wound? Your heart still OK?” The man’s face twisted into a grin.

Fenryr’s hand instinctively went to his heart. He looked down. His fingers traced the outline of his scar through his shirt.

“How did you know that? WHO ARE YOU?” His free hand clenched into a fist. The one holding the coke flexed a little. Fenryr felt the metal give way and some of the cool liquid leak onto his hand.

“So curious. Everyone wants to know who I am. First Smith now you.” His voice trailed off. He was looking into Fenryr’s eyes. His own were a piercing blue and set in a face that could only be described as beautiful.

“Smith? You know Smith? How?”

“Questions. Questions. That’s all you humans are good for. You don’t know me because we haven’t met yet. I know you because we have. That answer your questions?” The man started laughing. A horrible mocking sound.

Fenryr shook his head the man was making no sense. He dropped the coke. Reached out with his hand to grab the man by the collar. His hand passed right through the man. His white suit still immaculate.

“What the-“ He spluttered.

The man laughed again and drew close to Fenryr’s face. His eyes were very close now. Their noses were almost touching.

“My dear Fenryr. We are going to have lots of fun together. You and me. Don’t go and do anything stupid though.” The man vanished.

Fenryr looked down. The coke had spilled out and was forming a puddle at his feet. He could see his reflection in the black surface. His shoes were huge, his face tiny. He picked the can up. Shook it. There was still some left. He gulped that down. Threw the empty can away. He started walking slowly back to the office. On the way, he heard the laughter again. Fenryr turned around. There was no one there. The corridor was empty. Except for him. And the laughter.