My Bad Boy Werewolf Quadrillionaire Space Lord

Blood and Fur and Broken Trees

Alcuard extended his fist, believing it the appropriate way this world and its culture expressed jubilation and solidarity. He had seen it done in the countless films and stories he had watched and read during his six thousand year internment, and could think of no more appropriate gesture of respect for this cunning warrior.

Lito Cardego looked at him with the look of amused disdain that Alcuard himself usually wore. "I'm not some frat bro at a keg party. Grownups don't fist-bump."

"Apologies," Alcuard said, and he lowered his arm. "I had assumed it was custom in this world."

"Stories are also commercial products," Lito replied. "To appeal to children, they get adults to do childish things. Which is probably why you saw it so much while you binged Netflix from your coffin."

"That would also explain your son's fascination with toy aeroplanes firing foam darts," Alcuard mused.

"Huh?"

"Sorry. I think I'm filling in for Bird's metaphysical crisis," Alcuard said.

"Focus," Lito said in reprimand. And as much as Alcuard might be thousands of years older, there was a wisdom and focus in Lito Cardego that he found himself both respecting, and instinctively obeying. "He'll be back soon."

"Of course," Alcuard nodded.

Lito sat down easily and leaned against a tree. He then reached into the pouch on his belt, pulled out a small granola bar, and snacked away happily. Lito looked up and gestured with his half-eaten snack. "Sorry. I'd offer you some food, but..."

"I appreciate your restraint," Alcuard said, waving his hand. "Granola would give me gas. And hearing someone else masticate makes my stomach ache, the idea of chewing my food is revolting."

"Fair," Lito said, though it didn't stop him from continuing to chew.

They passed a few minutes in silence. Lito somehow both snacking and drinking water drawn from the tiny sack tied to his waist. Alcuard found himself wondering about it for a few minutes until Lito interrupted his wandering thoughts. "So you can levitate. Neat trick, by the way. Is that just an aspect of vampirism, or is it some sort of Atlantean science?"

"A bit of each," Alcuard admitted. "Vampirism was originally a side-effect of an anti-ageing technique where the wealthiest among us would inject the blood of young, virile peasants to reverse the wear of long years. Eventually, the dependency grew, and those that took the injections stopped being able to eat food normally, and their dead flesh could be sustained only on the vitality of others. We eventually learned to take advantage of the condition. My strength, hearing, sight, and levitation all came from those enhancements."

"I see," Lito said. "Interesting."

"Why is that?" Alcuard asked.

"It just occurred to me that I haven't seen a billionaire during the day in years," Lito said.

"That should trouble you," Alcuard said. "If the wealthy hide from the sun, your world may be repeating the sins that my people were guilty of."

"I had that feeling," Lito said. "What happened to your civilization?"

"I happened," Alcuard said.

"I wouldn't mind hearing that story," Lito admitted.

"If we live through tonight, I will tell it," Alcuard promised.

"Good," Lito said, and he turned to open the small pouch at his side. The bag itself was likely too small to hold a grapefruit, but Lito managed to reach his entire arm, almost to his shoulder, into the container.