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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(32, 178, 170)"><span style="font-size: 22px">Aesir "Ace" Beckett</span></span>​</div><hr class="bbc-hr"/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--left lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F564x%2F01%2Ff2%2Faa%2F01f2aaf4f2462f2a5bbe3101af77a580.jpg&amp;hash=7fa301163682cbd45237d5255a5822c5" title="01f2aaf4f2462f2a5bbe3101af77a580.jpg">
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</div>Alias: The Hound<br/>Power: Object Manipulation<br/>Age: 40<br/>Date/Time:<br/>Mood Music:<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F05NxitG44pE&amp;hash=7f3039bc571da53085fd9e9c37c7a36d" href="https://youtu.be/05NxitG44pE" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Recuerda </a>– Penny and Sparrow<br/>Tagging: Anyone at the Island<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr"/>They had spent the Spring and Summer together, exploring the Georgia Cattahoochee-Oconee National Forests. Well, as much as Mac's old bones would take him. The arthritis was starting to really kick in, and everyday they had together might be their last. Mac's eyes had long since clouded over to the point where there was no denying the old black labrador was going blind.<br/><br/>It sucked more than Aesir cared to admit.<br/><br/>Mac had been Aesir's dog for the last fourteen years. He had put a lot of good years in, a real turn of fate from where he had begun his life. It had started as a fluke; Aesir didn't even remember where the fuck he had been flying, but they'd touched down and picked up a group in the middle of the night. It had been a madhouse; more bullets in the air than he cared to think about, and chaos everywhere. They'd taken on more men than that Blackhawk was slated to hold, but the other bird had been clipped and there was no way they were leaving anyone behind.<br/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--left lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fencrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com%2Fimages%3Fq%3Dtbn%3AANd9GcQrmV65HF-eM5fJhqAjinN_D66Rkb4GoSAnUCBQtoGa0ko_rpn6hnZhaz-B5TB2ypLAhss%26usqp%3DCAU&amp;hash=ab11dffa65e0379aa39dc3145f2429eb" title="images">
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</div>Soldiers were clinging to each other, some piled two deep or clung to the doors. Sometime during the flight Aesir's right elbow kept getting nudged, and he finally put a hand back to figure out who or what was pushing him, and encountered a wet, cold nose.<br/><br/>The damn dog had sneaked onto the bird in the middle of a damned evac.<br/><br/>Mac never missed a mission from that day out. He took naturally to the role, passing his training to be allowed "officially" as a Combat Stress Control officer. Aesir remembered too many times that the last thing a soldier smiled at was that damn dog, before slipping under and away from the world. That dog had even saved their lives when it alerted to a 'friendly' they were pulling out of a crisis zone who happened to have explosives taped to his body. So much for friendlies.<br/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--left js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/mac-jpg.138166/" title="Mac.jpg">
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</div>"You're the only one I can trust, huh Boy?" Ace tussled Mac's ears as they watched the sun set over the Blue Ridge Lake. He heard Mac thump his tale, then felt that familiar muzzle find a comfortable spot laying across Aesir's thigh. Mac had been taking to snuggling closer these last few weeks, as if even he could sense that their time together was coming to an end.<br/><br/>"Let's go get some supper." That brought the greyed muzzle up quickly, and Aesir could swear Mac was grinning at him. "That sounds good, huh? Alright…Let's go home."<br/>The walk was slow, and halfway there Mac laid down in the dirt and looked up at Aesir as if to say "<i>This is all I got, Boss</i>." The retired soldier closed his eyes, knowing that Mac would keep going if he could.<br/><br/>"Alright," he said, squatting down to lift up his partner in his arms. He felt Mac's tail wagging back and forth slowly, as if to say he was sorry for being a bother. "You remember when we met?" Aesir asked. "You were such a scrawny little pup. More mange than fur," he began to walk towards his cabin. "I wasn't sure that you weren't just an overgrown rat," he chuckled.<br/><br/>Mac turned his muzzle and laid it against Aesir's shoulder. All the way home they talked. Aesir asked a question or remembered something funny that Mac had done, and Mac answered with a wave of his tail or a small puff of air from his grey-tinged mouth. Sometimes he perked his ears as if to say "<i>Is that so?</i>" or he grumbled like he was telling his human "<i>Yeah, that's what you think.</i>"<br/><br/>Back at the cabin Mac was laid on his favorite bed by the fireplace. It wasn't really that cold yet, but old dogs and old bones appreciated a little heat. Once the fire was lit and Mac was comfortably set up, Aesir went to heat up the ground chicken and sweet potatoes that made up the majority of the old dog's diet. He mixed in some unflavored goat yogurt, then stirred it well so each bite would have a bit of everything in it. As he prepared the meal he talked, looking over the couch to see Mac wag his tail or flick and ear.<br/><br/>Aesir swore he talked more to his dog than to other people, but there was a reason for that. People lied and betrayed you. A dog was honest in its feelings. If it was going to bite you, it warned you first; it didn't have to be a growl, sometimes they just locked up and anyone who knew a whiff about dogs knew that meant the bite was coming. But Mac…he never locked up. He never backed down from a challenge. He had never let Aesir down.<br/><br/>"Alright, Buddy." He brought the bowl over to where Mac waited. "Let's have some supper and I can carry you up to bed—" he sat on the hearth, the bowl cradled in his lap, and saw that Mac had fallen asleep.<br/><br/>Setting the bowl gently on the stone beside him, Aesir smiled softly. The poor old boy was tired. "It's alright," he said, reaching over to softly pet Mac's side. "We can…" Then his hand stilled, and Aesir's smile faded.<br/><br/>"Mac?" His body was much too still. Aesir stroked the fur a little more vigorously. "Mac? Hey Boy, wake up." He blinked through blurring eyes. "Mac?"<br/><br/>Aesir swallowed. He felt his countenance start to break. The tears were coming unbidden now, streaming down his cheeks as his throat tightened. He curled his fingers against Mac's fur and felt the solid emptiness of a body no longer filled with life.<br/><br/>He'd seen soldier and civilians alike die. He knew the feel of death. "Mac…oh God," his voice broke. He wasn't ready. The sorrow filled him, streamed down his face in rivulets, and he slowly moved to hold Mac one more time, sobbing into the cooling fur. He laid over the still form, rocking slowly as he sobbed, all the pain he had held back, all the horror of the wars and losses of life, flooded through him until he was completely undone.<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--2"/><br/>The next day Aesir packed the last shovelful of dirt over the much too small grave for such a big soul. He scattered wildflower seeds over the freshly tilled earth, raking it into the soil with his fingers until it seemed the seeds might stand a chance against the heat and the birds. The sun was just reaching its peak and the Georgia humidity was starting to send streams of sweat down the middle of Aesir's back.<br/><br/>There were no words worthy enough to be said over this grave. How can one put into words the way one life saved another?<br/><br/>Aesir stood there for just a few minutes as he surveyed their favorite spot. The last four and a half years they had fished this spot at least a thousand times. They had walked these trails a thousand more. Now it seemed like Aesir was destined to walk them alone.<br/><br/>"You were the love of my life, Mac," he finally said. "Thank you…for sharing," he felt his throat tighten and those damned tears begin to well. Sniffing, he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and the heel of his palm. "My worst days with you will be the best days of my tomorrow," his voice cracked. He sniffed, swallowed as he raised his face to the sun and felt the heat tighten the skin on his cheeks.<br/><br/>"I'm going to miss you. I love you, buddy. You were the best friend a man could have." He wiped his face with his hands, uncaring that he left streaks of dirt across himself, and collected his things.<br/><br/>It was time to do something different. Maybe it was time to go back, see if there was something to be done to help make the world a better place.<br/><br/>Two days later he got a message from Kiva. Three days after that he was rucking his bag off a ferry and stepping back on Zodiac Island, a place he thought he would never see again.