The Misadventures of the Man Formerly Known as Victor Heart

In a dark room illuminated by a swinging light bulb, there were three people that looked nothing like each other.

The first was a middle-aged black man with whipcord muscles. The only light in the room gleamed off his shaved head. The shadows meanwhile covered all the blood and bruises covering his face and body.

The second was a Slenderman looking mother trucker. It was only if you looked closer that you realized that the man was slender in the way a snake was. In reality he had all the muscles of a champion bodybuilder just spread out over a body that was much taller. His slightly torn and dusty white dress shirt tucked into his black slacks with the top few buttons undone showcasing an ascot.

The last occupant was a short busty woman with jade skin and raven hair. Her purple dress shirt and slacks were immaculate.

“So, tell me. How did we get here?” the larger man asked the bloodied one.

With a roll of his eyes the man answered, “That partner of yours rung that bell of mine and I woke up in this room.”

“That’s the resolution. I want the inciting incident. The rising action. The climax. Tell me a story.” The scarred man said with mock excitement and an even more mocking smile.

”And why should I do that?” the roughed-up man inquired in an exacerbated tone being done with this “story”. Everything he built had come crashing down in a matter of days.

“You need to understand that Norman Musa tragically died due to his injuries caused by the ambush that killed his men. We are the ones who decide if you leave this room ever again and where you go if you do. Currently, we’re just not feeling much sympathy after what you have done and the lives that you have ruined. Need I go on?” The other man explained.

The man starting his story, “Very well. It started just about three decades ago during one of my first patrols as a new recruit…”

***

It was during one of my first patrols as a new recruit that we were attacked by enemy combatants. They came from nowhere, one moment we were alone and the next one surrounded. We rushed through a gap in their formation. My new brothers dropped around me one by one until we crested a hill, and it was just me.

Unluckily the direction of the previously mentioned gap was into the desert. This was my first week in the area and I was understandably unfamiliar with the terrain.

I wandered through the desert for days. The sun beat down on my neck. The light seared my flesh and took every drop of water from me. It was so hot. I was so thirsty.

After several days of conserving my limited water, it ran out. Then came the next stage of my parade of sh*t, hallucinations. Those seared my spirit. I saw my brothers in arms again at one point, but this time they were full of bullet holes blaming me for not seeing their killers. I then saw my girlfriend and family making similar claims. For you see I was the lookout for our troop.

After that so joyous of a time, I saw something I hoped was an illusion, a giant rotting serpent with a head on both ends. I did not want to think that such creature could exist in this world. I later found out that my altered mental state allowed me to pierce the mist.

The serpent blood smelled so foul I choked on it even at a distance. It smelled like smoke, the sickly-sweet scent of rot, and chicken. I did not want any part of that in my body, but needs must and all that sh*t. I was so thirsty, you understand.

I took the smallest of sips and let me tell you, the smell really undersold the taste. I had to choke it down and when I did, my world opened up. It was how I imagine overdosing on LSD your first time ever taking drugs is like.

I felt each and every thing around me, even the tiny ants wriggling in the sand. At first, I could not tell up from down, left from right. The world was spinning on every axis at the same time. It was like I was blind and yet all-seeing at the same time.

I later learned that the Amphisbaena was a mythical creature created when a drop of Medusa’s blood landed in the Libyan desert while being carried by Perseus. Its descendants spread from there, both by natural migration and people wanting one. It possessed a powerful seismic sense allowing it to find its main food source, ants.

It turns out that ingesting a monster’s blood grants its abilities and a powerful addiction to go along with it. I learned the first with my sip and would only learn the second much later when it was already too late.

It also had the side effect of solving my problem as it quenched my thirst with only the tiniest of sips. I know it’s going to sound silly and made up, but I could feel the addiction growing like a cancer from that very first taste. I had no choice though; I needed that sense and drink to have any hope of escaping the desert.

I filled my canteen with all the blood it could fit.

After several more days of following the vibrations in the sand, I ended up in a small village. From there I found my way back to base.

I spent the next several years using my canteen to thrive in the military and move up the ranks, one sip at a time.

I did eventually run out, but I had been preparing for that by studying all that I could about the moonlit world and my preferred prey. After running out, I would occasionally sneak off in the night to hunt for more Amphisbaenas to increase my supply.

Eventually, I was leading my own unit, and I was anything but stingy with my supply. I shared my own supply of blood and other types I had collected over the years with my men and women.

As our success reached ever higher, we were able to increase the range of our activities and find more varieties of blood types with higher purities.