There were a lot of things in this world that Sam knew how to deal with; he was former military after all. And in the division he'd been apart of, you saw things. Things you didn't easily forget no matter how hard to tried.
Like werewolves. And vampires.
Apparently those were things. Things that had been around for a very long time. He'd never come in direct contact with vampires but werewolves? Those he had quite a bit of experience with. More often than not werewolves were recruited to aid military groups or even private organizations, able to easy blend in with opposing forces and strike as soon as the full moon rose.
But that was the life he'd left behind. He'd lost a partner to one such attack and had been gravely injured--thankfully not by a werewolf--and had returned to normal life. As..normal as life could be for someone whose dreams were haunted by howls and plagued by the fact that he'd been the one that had to put his partner down. He'd been the one that had to use a silver bullet on the man he'd spent a large chunk of his life trusting and working with. He ended up finding a lot of others, both former soldiers and civilians alike, that had dealt with werewolves in some way or another and found solace in their similar situations. Found a little bit of peace even.
And then he'd gotten caught back up in the world all over again and a man named Steve Rogers was to blame.
Steve was the reason he was out in the middle of nowhere on a snowy night attempting to track down someone that the other man was looking for. A former friend and solider, according to Steve, that had allegedly died then surfaced again, spotted among various werewolf 'packs' throughout different cities. But he never lingered long, from what Steve had said, and the other man was worried. Wanted to help. Wanted to find a way to cure him.
Honestly, Sam thought it was a bit of a stretch but a part of him wanted to help because..he would have wanted to do the same for Riley, if there had been an opportunity to do so.
So here he was, trekking back towards the cabin he and Steve had acquired for their wolf 'hunting' trip, handgun tucked into his pants underneath his shirt as he went along. It was just a precaution, of course, and Sam wasn't going to use it unless absolutely necessary but it was better to have it than not have anything at all and end up with a bite.
He doubted he'd much good to Steve like that. (Though heightened senses would come in real damn handy right now.)
We'll start with Sam BD I may throw Fitz in a separate tag later. Let me know if this is alright!
Like werewolves. And vampires.
Apparently those were things. Things that had been around for a very long time. He'd never come in direct contact with vampires but werewolves? Those he had quite a bit of experience with. More often than not werewolves were recruited to aid military groups or even private organizations, able to easy blend in with opposing forces and strike as soon as the full moon rose.
But that was the life he'd left behind. He'd lost a partner to one such attack and had been gravely injured--thankfully not by a werewolf--and had returned to normal life. As..normal as life could be for someone whose dreams were haunted by howls and plagued by the fact that he'd been the one that had to put his partner down. He'd been the one that had to use a silver bullet on the man he'd spent a large chunk of his life trusting and working with. He ended up finding a lot of others, both former soldiers and civilians alike, that had dealt with werewolves in some way or another and found solace in their similar situations. Found a little bit of peace even.
And then he'd gotten caught back up in the world all over again and a man named Steve Rogers was to blame.
Steve was the reason he was out in the middle of nowhere on a snowy night attempting to track down someone that the other man was looking for. A former friend and solider, according to Steve, that had allegedly died then surfaced again, spotted among various werewolf 'packs' throughout different cities. But he never lingered long, from what Steve had said, and the other man was worried. Wanted to help. Wanted to find a way to cure him.
Honestly, Sam thought it was a bit of a stretch but a part of him wanted to help because..he would have wanted to do the same for Riley, if there had been an opportunity to do so.
So here he was, trekking back towards the cabin he and Steve had acquired for their wolf 'hunting' trip, handgun tucked into his pants underneath his shirt as he went along. It was just a precaution, of course, and Sam wasn't going to use it unless absolutely necessary but it was better to have it than not have anything at all and end up with a bite.
He doubted he'd much good to Steve like that. (Though heightened senses would come in real damn handy right now.)