The Eternal Avenger

Chapter Thirteen: Confessions

(Claray's POV)

We had all been sitting around a large conference table for over an hour now, exchanging stares, asking questions. I had described in painstaking detail my abilities as a werewolf (again), my abilities as a vampire, including compulsion which was all the more heightened by the gift from the witches. We hadn't descended down that path yet, although I was relatively certain it was coming.

"What else do we need to know?" Steve asked. I leaned forward on the table, resting on my elbows, looking directly into his green-flecked blue eyes.

"Agent Rogers, I haven't scratched the surface yet," I stated, matter-of-factly. He sighed, shaking his head.

"I think you can call me Steve now, Ms. Ridel," he smiled.

"Claray." I returned the smile and he nodded.

"I'm not sure where to start, really." I glanced around at the faces staring back at me. Natasha, sitting at the far side of the table, curled up into her chair like a cat, smiled at me reassuringly. "Natasha doesn't even know this part." She frowned slightly, but nodded for me to go ahead. "Being a hybrid is not the only thing that makes me different from other creatures." Steve was leaning forward now, interested.

"You hunt them," Banner offered from across the room. I nodded.

"I do, but you don't exactly know why." This was going to get difficult.

"Because they're bad?" Tony smirked from the head of the table. I couldn't help but grin at him.

"Aside from that, Mr. Stark."

"Tony, please. But continue, go ahead." He sat back in his chair, propping his no-doubt very expensive shoes up on the table, eating what looked to be blueberries.

"I hunt other werewolves who haven't learned to control their hunting," I began. I glanced around; they were all following along so far. "Many werewolves have decided, on their own or at the discretion of the pack, to not hunt humans. Although not entirely in control when shifting, it's instinctual to recognize human beings, and not target them as prey."

"So that's other wolves," Rhodey added. I nodded at him as he leaned against the far wall.

"That's not the same reason I hunt other vampires." Natasha furrowed her brow in confusion, and the team exchanged glances between themselves.

"So why do you?" Steve asked.

"That's going to take a bit of a history lesson, I'm afraid." A series of chuckles filled the room, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"The first thing that you need to know is that Vampires - potentially eternal beings - do not celebrate their birthdays in the same way as a human would. A year means nothing to us, so we tend to celebrate larger numbers." I received a few nods from around the room, prompting me to continue. Even Maria Hill had stopped scratching in her notebook, transfixed by the story. "Every two hundred and fifty years, what we call a Sestercentennial, every vampire is given the opportunity for a unique celebration. It's called a Havoc Year." The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It was almost funny, to watch the looks on their faces.

"That sounds good," Tony snarked from the corner.

"I don't want to know what that is, do I?" Steve asked. I looked down at the table, shaking my head.

"A Havoc Year is a year-long celebration where the vampire is allowed to hunt and to feed without consequences. Whatever they do is covered up by other vampires, and is not spoken of. It gets messy." Steve sighed and shook his head.

"Jesus," Banner muttered in the corner. I licked my lips slightly. This wasn't exactly a pleasant topic of conversation. Natasha leaned forward, looking at me.