bastard

Jamie felt guilty that his violent tendencies had surfaced again. Taking another drink from the wine bottle, he said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have threatened you."

"It's all right," Kelly replied. "If anything, I've probably killed more people than you ever will," she added, a hint of guilt in her voice.

Jamie gulped down more wine. "I imagine there's a price to this, and your silence isn't just a voluntary act of kindness, is it?"

Kelly spoke calmly. "It's my son. He's terminally ill. It's a disease that's deadly to humans but doesn't affect your kind. Jamie, you're the missing link between monster and man. Monsters are immune to every disease, aren't they? You've never been sick before, have you?"

Jamie simply answered, "No, I never have."

"Since you're such a fine specimen," Kelly continued, "you could help cure people. Hell, you might even be able to end cancer. Jamie, you're much more than just a weapon. You could be the cure to all diseases. If you really want to help people, donate your blood-or your body-to science. You could save more lives than you ever could here."

Jamie was struck with a realization he had never had before-that maybe he could be more than a weapon. But one word made him regret everything she said.

"I'll think about it," Jamie said earnestly. "But I'm not just going to join some institution that calls me a specimen."

Static from the radio began to crackle.

The radio temporarily bursts into life. Numbers could be heard through the crackling, followed by a man's voice: "Echo 419er, do you copy?" But just as quickly as it started, the static drowned it out again.

In frustration, the mechanic muttered, "I'm honestly thinking about hitting it. Funny enough, two years of engineering school, and that's still one of the best solutions out there."

Jamie sighed. "In the castle in the distance, there might be a flare gun we can use to signal for help. Even though most of the equipment is 50 years old, some of it still works. Underneath this exoskeleton, I managed to get some rifles working by taking them apart and rebuilding them."

Jamie then asked, "What's your name, by the way?"

The mechanic replied, "Owen. And no offense, but radios aren't exactly as easy to put together as rifles."

Jamie nodded and then pointed to the medic. "And you?"

The medic simply said, "Sasha," in a Russian accent.

Jamie turned to the man in the corner, who had started his psychotic rambling again. "He wore his skin. He wore his skin. He wore my best friend's skin."

Jamie sighed. "Listen, I'm no therapist. If you keep rambling like this, I'm just going to leave you here."

The man momentarily broke from his trance, nervously looking up at Jamie. "It's... Jack."

Talo then said, "Jamie, these are civilians. Come on now."

Jamie responded, "Listen, I don't have time to cater to them. They'd better do what I say, or I leave them here. This is life and death-simple as that."

"Jamie, you can't keep doing this forever," Talo said. "You're going to have to learn how to talk to people who aren't jarheads like me."

Jamie snarled, "Is that what you think? That I'm just going to run off into the sunset, and everything will be fine?" His anger was rising, but then he felt a hand on his arm. It was Kelly.

"This isn't going to help anything," she said softly. "Come on, Jamie, calm down and let it go. I'll try to talk to him and see if I can help him find some semblance of sanity."

Jamie took a deep breath. "Fine. But if he can't snap out of it, I'm still leaving him here. I'm not going to let him jeopardize our safety."

Kelly nodded and walked over to Jack, offering him words of comfort and encouragement.

Talo pulled up a chair next to Jamie, grabbed a bottle of wine, and said, "Well, I'm more of a beer person myself. Wine always makes me feel a bit upper-class when I drink it, but it's what we've got."

His face turned serious. "There's a question I've been meaning to ask you."

Talo then blurted out, "Where the hell is your penis?"

Jamie, in the middle of drinking his wine, spat it out and burst into laughter. "This form doesn't come with one," he replied.

Talo raised an eyebrow. "Well, then how the hell do you piss or, you know, fuck?"

"Jesus, man, get off of Wattpad," Jamie shot back, shaking his head. "We're designed to be weapons, we were not created by people from Tumblr. Get your head out of your ass."

Talo smiled. "You were conceived somehow, so how?"

"In my dad's human form, if you must know."

"Oh... so this form is more like an exoskeleton? You mentioned you had weapons underneath," Talo said.

"Yeah," Jamie replied, a long, awkward pause hanging between them. "It's kind of like Attack on Titan, where the Titan forms are more like suits that form around them."

Talo perked up. "Wait, do you watch anime?"

Jamie rolled his eyes. "God, Talo, is there anything you don't want to know about me?"

"I'm just f****** with you, Jamie. You need to lighten up, man," Talo said with a grin.

Jamie, mildly annoyed, replied, "You make it seem like it's so easy. Has it ever occurred to you that we're living in a super f***** up world filled with a million monsters?"

Talo responded sarcastically, "Yeah, but I just ignore it."

Jamie, now slightly amused, blurted out, "Well, s***, I must've had the wrong training then."

Talo's tone shifted to seriousness. "In all seriousness, I think we should get moving. The storm's letting up, and it would be a perfect time to move."

The bar creaked as the wind howled outside, rattling the broken windows. Inside, the air was stale, thick with dust and the scent of old wood and spilled alcohol. Jamie glanced around the dilapidated room, the faint glow of the lantern casting long shadows across the walls. The others were busy-Talo checking the map, Sam cleaning his rifle, and the mechanic tinkering with the radio. Kelly sat quietly, her eyes distant as if lost in thought.

Jamie took a long breath and stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. He felt the weight of their silence. The bar, a sanctuary for now, felt like a prison after a while. He needed to get out, to clear his mind, to feel the cold night air against his skin.

"I'm heading out," he said, his voice breaking the quiet.

Talo glanced up. "Where to?"

"Just scouting. Won't be long." Jamie's tone was clipped, a sign that he wasn't in the mood for company or questions.

"You sure it's safe out there?" Sam asked, looking up from his rifle, his brow furrowed in concern.

Jamie smirked. "Safe? Not exactly. But I'll manage."

He pushed the door open and stepped out into the night. The wind bit at his face, cold and unforgiving, as it carried the scent of decay. The streets of the abandoned German village stretched out before him, ghostly and empty. Shadows danced across the shattered remnants of what was once a thriving town, now nothing more than a graveyard of memories.

As Jamie walked through the desolate streets, his boots kicked up dirt and ash from the ground. The crumbling buildings loomed over him, their windows shattered, their walls blackened from fires long extinguished. He could hear the wind whistling through the hollow structures, a haunting sound that only amplified the village's emptiness.

He turned a corner and entered what used to be the village square. There, in the center of the square, something caught his attention. A figure-no, a skeleton-chained to a post, its arms stretched wide, shackled in place. The bones were bleached white by time, the clothing that had once covered them reduced to tatters. Above the skeleton, nailed to the post, hung a wooden sign, the word Verräter scrawled in faded German script.

Traitor.

Jamie approached, stopping just a few feet away from the grotesque display. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head with a chuckle. "What was it, huh? Did you refuse to violate the Geneva Convention, or refuse to go with some sort of suicidal charge? Hard to tell with the Germans."

He laughed again, but the sound echoed hollowly through the empty square. There was something unsettling about the skeleton, a reminder of how ruthless this world had become. The chains rattled faintly in the wind, as if the traitor were still trying to escape.

Jamie turned his back on the skeleton and continued through the streets, his eyes scanning the ruins for any sign of movement. The village was quiet-too quiet. He adjusted his jacket, pulling it tighter against the biting cold, and pressed forward.

Then he heard it-something subtle at first, barely noticeable. A soft rustling, the kind that made his instincts flare up. He paused, muscles tensing. The sound wasn't natural. It was deliberate, like something-or someone-was tracking him.

Jamie slowly looked up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the rooftops. He squinted against the dim light, searching for the source of the noise. "Talo?" he called out cautiously.

There was no response. The rustling grew louder, and Jamie's hand instinctively moved toward the weapon strapped to his side. But before he could react, a sharp crack pierced the air-a gunshot.

Pain exploded in his side, and he staggered backward, the world tilting violently. He fell, the ground rushing up to meet him as the buildings and sky blurred together. Everything spun, his vision narrowing to a pinprick. Darkness consumed him.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just a void.

Then, slowly, his senses began to return. His ears rang, and his vision was hazy, but shapes started to form out of the darkness. He blinked, struggling to focus. A silhouette stood over him, tall and blurry, but familiar. As his eyes adjusted, he realized it was Sam.

Jamie's vision swam as the world slowly came back into focus. His side throbbed where the bullet had struck, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized something was wrong. The figure standing over him wasn't Sam-not the Sam he knew. The silhouette was wrong, twisted. As it stepped closer, Jamie's heart sank.

Glowing yellow eyes gleamed down at him, and an impossibly wide grin stretched from ear to ear, splitting the face unnaturally. The voice that followed was familiar, yet warped by something sinister-a voice Jamie had heard before.

"My, my, what big teeth you have," the figure crooned, chuckling darkly. "And those ears... It's really like the old fairy tale, isn't it? Although," the voice hissed with amusement, "I guess we skinwalkers never had the popularity to be turned into a fairy tale."

Jamie coughed violently, spitting out a bit of blood as he struggled to pull himself together. Pain racked his body, but he gritted his teeth and growled, "Come a little closer, and you'll find out how sharp they are."

The creature, still wearing Sam's face, let out a laugh that echoed through the empty street, almost as if mocking the very silence that surrounded them. "Well, well! If it isn't your *better half* coming out. You know, I want to like you, Jamie. Really, I do. You've got that whole 'monster with a heart' thing going on. But let's be honest," Sam's stolen face twisted into a sneer, "you're just a bastard through and through."

Jamie narrowed his eyes, still struggling to push himself upright. Every muscle in his body screamed at him, but he refused to give in. "I know his type," Jamie growled through labored breaths. "He'll get everyone killed if he doesn't cooperate. I'm not here to babysit someone who won't pull their weight."

Sam-or what wore Sam's skin-tilted its head, amusement dancing in those eerie yellow eyes. "Oh, but you were willing to save that girl, weren't you? That poor, helpless damsel in distress. But the man? Oh no, not him. He wasn't worth the effort." The creature's grin widened further, impossibly so. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"

Jamie went silent. A knot of frustration and guilt coiled in his chest, but he shoved it down, unwilling to let this twisted imitation get inside his head.

The creature's grin faltered for a moment, its voice turning low and cruel. "You know, in a world ruled by men, you'll never fit in. You don't exactly look like them-don't fit into one race, so you're always going to be the outcast. The bastard. And in a world full of monsters, you don't exactly act like one of us either. Transforming in the sunlight like that... How very un-werewolf of you." It laughed again, the sound grating against Jamie's nerves. "You're a rule-breaker, Jamie. A contradiction. A bastard, through and through."

The skinwalker leaned down, its face inches from Jamie's. Its eyes locked onto his, its voice dripping with venom. "And the best part? You're no hero. We both know that. You're too cynical, too jaded. You're not the hero this world needs. But you know what?" The grin returned, wider and more menacing than before. "You're the one it deserves."

Jamie's breath hitched, pain still gripping him as his mind raced. He mumbled something, his voice barely audible.

The creature raised an eyebrow, mockingly placing its hand to its ear. "What's that? The bastard has something to say?"

Jamie gritted his teeth, his voice barely a whisper. "When I find you... I'm going to rip you in half. Then you'll know what it's like to be *half a monster*."

The skinwalker laughed again, but this time, its laughter was cut short. A low rumble filled the air, and black flames ignited around Jamie's body. His form began to shift, the familiar fire engulfing him, transforming him back into his human state. In a fluid motion, Jamie grabbed the rifle from his back and fired a shot.

The skinwalker snarled as the bullet tore into its arm, stumbling back from the impact. "You think that's going to stop me?" it sneered, clutching its wound.

Jamie didn't answer. His movements were quick, driven by the adrenaline surging through him. But before he could take another shot, the skinwalker was faster. With a swift kick, it knocked the rifle from Jamie's hands, sending it clattering to the ground.

"You know," the creature mused, its voice laced with menace, "there are some advantages to being a second-generation monster. Like being able to blow your head off with a rifle. That's something you first-generation freaks will never have the luxury of."

It raised the rifle, pointing it directly at Jamie's head. The sound of the trigger click echoed-empty.

Nothing but a click.

Jamie let out a dry, humorless laugh despite the pain. "Guess you won't get that luxury either."

The skinwalker's face twisted into a snarl, furious. "I wasn't asking for your opinion!" it spat, before swinging the rifle like a club, smashing it across Jamie's head. The impact sent a burst of white-hot pain through Jamie's skull. His vision blurred, then everything went black.