Bitesize 1.6

Bitesize 1.6

Ed swung by an all night garage to grab bacon and bread before heading home. He filled the tank on the car too, planning to go visit his dad the next day. He finally pulled up outside his house a little before 5 a.m. He made his way inside, noting the window once again. Maybe he could spraypaint the other letters out too, for now? He made bacon sandwiches, then peeled off the kevlar vest. The wolf's claws had completely ruined it, tearing right through, probably millimetres from his skin. He stuffed it inside a bin bag and left it by the door then took his sandwiches upstairs. He checked his email while he eat them and surfed a few paranormal discussion forums for anything of interest. One of them had an article on a big cat sighting in Lincolnshire. The article wasn't written particularly well and Ed put it down to someone local who'd picked it up on the grapevine. At least Gary had stuck to his story. Nothing else caught his eye. He logged on a poker site and gambled away a couple of hundred pounds playing hold 'em for a couple of hours. The money didn't bother him. The Bureau paid well, well enough that he didn't have to worry about what went out. There was more coming in than he could spend and he wasn't one for unnecessary luxury or opulence.
He had one last hand at the poker and won thirty back then quit. He shut the computer down and flicked the stereo on. He shuffled through its digital library and found some suitably fast metal and then slid himself behind his drumkit on the other side of the room. He hadn't played professionally in years but he still enjoyed the practice. He drummed along with the music as fast as he could, the concentration helping to relax his mind and stop it dwelling on the night's events. He played until his wrists hurt and his ankles ached. When he'd had enough he put the sticks down and went for a shower. Nothing like the drums for relaxing him. He wondered as he soaped himself what the other field agents did to wind down. What did Katia do? Probably something extreme like skydiving or snowboarding down the Alps. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for him to take up something more physical. A martial art perhaps. He'd sure felt less than adequate dealing with that werewolf. He shuddered to think what T-alpha himself must be like. Bigger, stronger, faster. Lethal. Close combat training was starting to sound more appealing by the second.

Twenty minutes later he was back upstairs. It was mid-afternoon already. He opened the cupboard on his bedside cabinet and pulled out a half bottle of spiced rum and poured himself a generous double. He lit up a cigarette and turned the computer back on. His email inbox was still empty and that was probably a good thing. He still had time to kill so he poured another rum and rummaged through a box of discs under the desk and found a shooting game he enjoyed. He spent the rest of the evening chasing a bunch of international computer nerds around a visually realistic WWII era Europe. The drink spoiled his aim, rapidly earning the nickname Bulletmagnet. A few hours later he finally gave in to the alcohol and the tiredness and called it a night.