Tank and...

TANK AND...

  by Graveyard Greg

  Tank and...

  Copyright 2013 by Graveyard Greg

  The usual thanks to Joshuwain for the edits and extra bonus thanks to Donryu for the cover art!

  Sometimes I'm surprised when a short story appears in my head. This particular one was inspired when I did the Kickstarter project for another short story called Relationships. One of the stretch goals for people who pledged six dollars or more was microfiction of Tank interacting with a character of their choice.

  So when I started writing it, a story began to blossom, but the people who pledged only got to see their part of the story. Sure, there were hints of previous chapters, but no one got to see the full tale.

  That changes now. Enjoy the full microfiction series!

  Graveyard Greg

  June 12th, 2013

  PART ONE:

  TANK AND HIS DAD

  Tank loved his father, but there were times he intimidated the hell out of him.

  At a whopping twelve feet to his eight, and weighing in at over two tons to Tank's some eight-hundred pounds, the rabbit felt small. When his father spoke, people listened. He never had to raise his voice because it was booming enough just speaking normally. A single word uttered by his father could rattle pictures hung on the walls. Tank could sing falsetto, at least.

  His father looked up from the newspaper, glancing over at his son from across the dining table. “So, what plans have you tonight, son?”

  Tank suppressed a grin at his father's formal tone. His dad always talked like that ever since he could remember. “I have to play babysitter tonight.”

  His father nodded his head, the neck muscles rippling under his brown coat of fur. “Ah, yes. The hybrid?”

  “Yes sir.” Tank didn't ask how his father knew. He was still connected to the monster hunter community, even though he had retired shortly after Tank was born.

  “A skunk-dragon, if I recall. It must not be easy, being something of that type.”

  “Yeah, I can't image it's easy.”

  “You should be fortunate, Angus.” His father never used Tank's nickname, choosing instead to call his son by his birth name. “You have never felt the discrimination of others.”

  “Have you, Dad?”

  “As a child, I might have suffered for a while,” his father said after a moment's hesitation. “I had a strong family for support, however.”

  “What a coincidence,” Tank said with a grin, “so did I. Still do.”

  His father gave him a rare grin. “So do I, my son. So do I.”

  PART TWO:

  TANK AND FAYD

  “It’s days like these which makes me wish the world would just leave me alone,” Tank said, moving his black checker closer to his opponent’s side of the board.

  His opponent studied the board, glancing up to lock eyes with him. “What happened?”

  Tank stared at the hybrid skunk-dragon. “I don’t think it’d be polite to tell you, Fayd,” he said. “You’ve got your own problems.”

  “I’m not a prisoner here,” Fayd said, moving a checker next to Tank’s

  “You might as well be,” Tank said, capturing it. “The second you leave these wards, they’ll find you.”

  Fayd flashed him a fanged grin. “Unless my protectors find them first.”

  Tank never quite understood who ‘they’ were. It wasn’t his job to know. Once a week, he took a four hour shift watching over the skunk-dragon. Sometimes he even enjoyed it.

  “I’ll be glad when they do find them,” he says. “No one should have to be afraid for their life.”

  “King me,” Fayd said, moving a checker to Tank’s side of the board.

  “Dammit,” Tank said. He had only two checkers left while Fayd had three times that. “You’re going to beat me again.”

  “Yup, I sure am,” Fayd smiled, her long, fluffy skunk tail twitching a staccato beat while the other two draconian tails coiled around themselves. Tank couldn’t get used to someone having multiple tails. Wasn’t one enough for most species?

  “Next time we’re playing cribbage.”

  Fayd smirked. “You’re avoiding the subject.”

  “Yup, I sure am,” he said.

  “Fine, I’m going to get some coffee. Want some?”

  “That’d be great, thanks,” he said, trying not to stare at the bulge between Fayd’s legs. The hybrid was not only endowed with quite the manhood, but also was stacked up top with a pair of breasts which could give a normal woman back pains for life.

  Hermaphrodites, Tank thought. He could never feel comfortable around them.

  PART THREE:

  TANK AND CONNER

  Tank didn't know the raccoon, but he knew when someone was in danger. In this case it was quite obvious, since the raccoon was being held by the throat and pinned up against the wall.

  The raccoon's assailant was wearing a fedora and trench coat. Given that it was t-shirt and shorts weather it meant the attacker had something to hide.

  Tank grabbed the first thing he could find, and slammed the garbage can against the assailant's back. The raccoon dropped down to the ground, and Tank grabbed a handful of trench coat, then tossed the attacker down the alley.

  "Mister, watch out!" the raccoon said, massaging his throat. "That thing's a monster!"

  Of course it was a monster. Tank had a lot of experience with monsters, but what kind of monster was it? Hopefully the kind he could easily beat.

  "Come on, let's get you out of here," Tank said, helping the raccoon to his feet. He had to give the guy credit, the raccoon didn't hesitate to accept Tank's help. It would make things easier.

  Unfortunately, the Universe proved once again it was a right bastard. The monster had already tossed the coat away, then proceeded to discard the skin it was wearing. It’s vulpine muzzle yawned open far wider than a normal muzzle had the right to, and another muzzle emerged from it, followed by its gore-soaked head.

  “Fuck me sideways and backwards,” Tank said, then dragged the raccoon out of the alley.

  “Wh-what is that thing?” the raccoon said as they both took off into a run.

  “It’s a gorehound,” Tank said, glancing over his shoulder. While it was emerging from its disguise, a gorehound was vulnerable, but the danger wasn’t just the one...

  Tank slowed down as two more individuals wearing trench coats appeared from an alley ahead of them.

  Gorehounds always traveled in packs.

  “What’s your name?” Tank asked the raccoon.

  “Conner.”

  “Well, Conner, I hope you know how to fight. Otherwise, this might be a challenge for me.”

  PART FOUR:

  TANK AND SENAN

  Tank disliked online chatting. He hated using Skype even more, but it was the only way to contact the coypu. After logging in to his account, he saw Senan was online. This wasn't too surprising.

  BigBunny>> Senan, it's Tank.

  CoypuRulez>> Are u secure?

  BigBunny>> I'm at my place behind the special firewall you insist on us using.

  Tank rubbed the back of his head as he stretched. If this took too long, the trail might grow cold, and he'd lose the opportunity to catch the bastards who tried to ambush him.

  CoypuRulez>> OK what do u need?

  BigBunny>> I need you to use that gift of yours to find a particular summoning.

  CoypuRulez>> Itll cost you.

  It always does, you greedy river rat, thought Tank.

  BigBunny>> How much?

  CoypuRulez>> I want the complete series of Twilight & season 3 of Archer.

  Tank grinned. At least he's a cheap greedy river rat.

  BigBunny>> Done. It happened behind the El Dorito, close to the river.

  A lot of st
uff happened at that casino. One day Tank would get some backup and do some investigating. Not today, though. Today was finding the bastards who tried to kill him.

  CoypuRulez>> What was summoned?

  BigBunny>> A pack of gorehounds.

  CoypuRulez>> FUUUU. Gorehounds r nasty.

  You’re telling me, Tank thought. It took him four hours to clean off the gore on his fur, and he could still smell their scent.

  BigBunny>> They set up an ambush just for me.

  CoypuRulez>> How do u know?

  BigBunny>> Because they went after me instead of the raccoon they used as bait.

  CoypuRulez>> Howd u survive?

  BigBunny>> They didn’t expect me to fight back.

  CoypuRulez>> BRB. Going 2 locate the summoning.

  BigBunny>> Okay.

  Tank prayed Senan would track whoever summoned the gorehounds. He wanted some payback, and wanted it for express delivery.

  PART FIVE:

  TANK AND KARMAKAT

  “You look like hell, my friend,” the gray lion with a red mane said as Tank walked into the locker room.

  Tank nodded with a smile as he pulled off his tank top. “Thanks, Karmakat. I had fun tracking down some guys,” he said.

  Karmakat looked around, but they were the only ones in the room. “Which kind?”

  “The special kind who like to summon other dimensional beasts,” Tank replied as he changed into a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

  “At least you’re here to complain about it.”

  Tank nodded, his smile fading into a tight line. “Yeah. I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate me being six feet under,” he said. “I know I wouldn’t like it.”

  “You ever think about retiring?”

  Tank put his street clothes in a locker, pausing to think about the question. “All the time,” he said. “You?”

  “I know Massak wouldn’t complain if I did.”

  Tank finally shut the locker door. “How is your boyfriend, anyway?”

  “Fine. How’s yours?”

  “Ivan’s good. He passed his finals, and is looking to renew his student visa.”

  “So why don’t you retire?”

  Tank shook his head. He should have known the lion wouldn’t allow him to change the subject. “Because the guys who can fight these things are in short supply.” He then smirked at Karmakat. “But you knew that.”

  Karmakat nodded. “I did.”

  “So why ask?”

  Karmakat grinned. “So you could think about that which is important to you. Namely, Ivan.”

  “Sometimes I truly hate how spot on you are.”

  Karmakat’s grin widened. “Only sometimes?”

  Tank rolled his eyes. “Okay, all the time,” he amended. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got some frustration to vent via lifting.”

  What Tank didn't tell Karmakat was Senan had located the source of the summoning energies.

  It had been at this very gym. Someone, possibly someone he knew, was out to kill him.

  PART SIX:

  TANK AND VICTOR

  “Something’s on your mind, Tank,” said the portly (yet still muscular) badger.

  Tank looked up from his position on the bench press. He had just re-racked the loaded barbell with the guidance of the badger. “What makes you say that, Victor?”

  “Can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s something in your eyes.”

  Tank sat up, folding his forearms across his knees. “What about my eyes?”

  “You got a distant look in them. Your mind’s not in the game today.” Victor squeezed Tank’s shoulder. “Everything all right?”

  Tank shook his head. “Not really, no. Got some work issues to deal with, you know?” Like someone here trying to kill me, he thought.

  Victor's eyes widened. “Problems here at the gym?”

  Tank laid back down on the bench, readying himself for another set. “No, not here,” he said. “The other job.”

  Victor was a rarity in the monster hunting field. He lived long enough to retire, and had the scars – both physical and mental – to prove it. The fur covered up the former, but sometimes the latter would show up in the badger’s nightmares. So Tank silently forgave him when the badger closed his eyes and muttered a prayer. “I don’t want to know, Tank. I hope you can understand.”

  “I understand completely, Victor. That part of your life is over now. Speaking of which, Dad wants you to come visit for Sunday dinner.”

  “Your pop saved my life more times than I can count, Tank. Tell him I’ll bring the beer.” He paused, then smiled. “So maybe after this workout you’ll let me rub your back?”

  “I’ll bring the stepladder,” Tank grinned.

  “You sure do live dangerously, teasing your spotter like that.”

  PART SEVEN:

  TANK AND COREY

  Corey amused Tank to no end. The young, slim dalmatian was always near the large lapin, ready to collect the sweat-laden towels used during Tank’s workouts.

  “I don’t want to have to wait until the last minute to do laundry,” was Corey’s reasoning, and it made a lot of sense, except Tank knew the real reason why Corey was so eager to gather up every sweat-soaked towel in the gym.

  One day when Tank went into the laundry room, he caught Corey inhaling the scent of a dirty towel. The dalmatian hadn’t seen Tank, and the lapin never told Corey he was on to his shenanigans. Corey was a good towel boy, and if he had a few kinks dealing with olfactory senses...well, who was Tank to judge?

  But when Tank went out to dispose of the day’s trash, he was shocked and dismayed to find Corey outside sitting down against the wall in a trance-like state. A gorehound was in front of him, struggling to emerge into his reality.

  The one who was summoning gorehounds to attack Tank was Corey? No, it couldn’t be. Unless...

  Tank snapped out of his shocked state and jumped towards the gorehound, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around the beast's neck. It was difficult – the monster’s fur was slick with its namesake gore – but once he locked his arms around its neck, he twisted the thing’s head forcefully. There was a sickening snap like a wet strand of spaghetti, then the beast became limp. As it faded from sight, never having made it fully into Tank’s reality, the rabbit looked over at Corey. The dalmatian was blinking his eyes, the trace broken once the gorehound had vanished.

  “Tank? What happened?”

  He doesn’t know his own power, thought Tank. Unless he’s playing dumb. He’d have to talk to his friend, the one who could read minds. He hated to think what he’d owe the telepath, but it was necessary.

  Tank grimaced. “Uh, I...”

  “Is that...what is that on your arms? Is that blood?” Corey’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Are you hurt?”

  “Uh, no! No. I...uhm...well, it’s hard to explain, but once I can think of a good explanation, I’ll totally tell you about it.” He moved past the dalmatian, gathering up the trash and tossing into the receptacle which was twenty feet away. Thank God I was such a pro at high school basketball, he thought before rushing into the gym with the singular intent on showering.

  Corey couldn’t have summoned those gorehounds on him maliciously. His subconscious must have summoned them, and since he had an obsession with the large lapin’s scent, they tracked him down.

  But what if Tank was wrong?

  Well, he'd cross that line if need be, and hate himself for the rest of his life.

  PART EIGHT:

  TANK AND BIRCH

  Tank looked up from his newspaper as the okapi entered the coffeehouse. He was short, barely five-six, but was built like Tank. “Thanks for helping me out, Birch,” Tank said as the okapi sat at the table.

  “You're welcome. Buy me an iced coffee and we'll call it even.”

  “Are you sure? Does that mean..?”

  “Yup. There wasn't anything bad inside Corey's head. Heck, I almost feel good seeing his viewpoint of the world. Do you
even know how rare that is for me? I'm almost tempted to buy you a coffee as a way of saying thanks.”

  “So he can be trained to control it.”

  “Yeah, or just suppress it. I mean, do you honestly want to destroy that kid's innocence?”

  Tank looked down at his coffee, gently swirling it. “You might be right.”

  “It's your call, Tank. You know I don't want to get too involved, and I sure as hell don't want to tamper with people's minds. I don't know if I have the talent to do so, and I don't want to know.”

  “With great power...”

  “...comes great responsibility. For a while, I thought my talent was uncontrollable. It was terrifying. I thought I'd never be able to live a normal life.”

  “Corey deserves to live a normal life,” Tank said quietly, “I'd hate it if his talent hurt anyone.”

  “The burden of knowledge is incredibly heavy.”

  “Don't forget incredibly shitty as well.”

  “I'm going to have to tell him,” Tank said. “I can't make this kind of decision for him.”

  “And that's why you're one of the good guys.”

  “Am I? I'm going to shatter a guy's worldview, and even if we're able to get him to forget...I'm going to have to live with the image of when he did find out.”

  “Yet you're still going to do it.”

  “I have to,” Tank said, and in his heart he knew it was the right thing to do. He couldn't let Corey's talent remain uncontrolled. The dalmatian would have to learn to control it. There was no other choice in Tank's mind.

  Either way, Tank hoped it would all work out in the end.

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