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#1 2008-01-02 19:19:50

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Here's a few possible beginning chapters for my Department 118 story. I'm trying to add more back story, and thought I'd start with how Chris was recruited by Dep:118.
  If it goes right, the following segments may actually be the beginning of the book.
  Since Dep:118's meeting up with Chris would no doubt be a case study for them, I'm also considering starting this sequence with a memo to the Empress, like I did in the other one. I haven't decided yet.
  After you read this first segment, tell me if you think it would capture a person's attention if they hadn't read any of my other stuff. That will hopefully let me know if this would be an interesting beginning for the reader.
  Feel free to let me know if you think the memo thing would be a good way to go, too.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#2 2008-01-02 19:28:28

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Chapter 1 (?)

Bookworm6467: Okay, so how about this: Home is where you hang your hat, right?
Street_Fang94:  Yeah.
Bookworm6467:  And most accidents happen within five miles of the home, right?
Street_Fang94:  Okay.
Bookworm6467:  So why don’t people hang their hats on the other side of town to avoid accidents?
Street_Fang94:  That’s because home is where the heart is, too. They’d have to hang their heart where their hat is, and that’s just gross.
Bookworm6467:  lol. So what if they keep their hearts, but forward all their accidents to where they’re hanging their hat?
Street_Fang94:  You mean like a second home?
Bookworm6467:  Yeah, why not?
Street_Fang94:  That would mean they can afford two homes. If they can afford two homes, they can also afford to delegate their accidents to somebody else. They’re automatically disqualified from the statistic.
Bookworm6467:  LOL!
Street_Fang94: tongue
Bookworm6467:  So, you heard anything new from the Howler lately?
Street_Fang94:  I’m never up that late, dude.
Bookworm6467: You got the local papers, and you can still hear things around town…
Street_Fang94: Jeez, man, I never should have told you I live in Romberg.
Bookworm6467:  If you didn’t want me to ask you about a possible real live werewolf in your home town, then yeah. But in that case, you never should have joined that forum discussion, either.
Street_Fang94:  I was just curious about Lycanthropy.
Bookworm6467: And what peaked that interest? The Howler. Why are you blaming me for your own curiosity?
Street_Fang94:  I’m not. I’m blaming you for yours. It’s not like I know him personally just because I’m in the same city. You want to meet him, come to Romberg yourself.
Bookworm6467:  I’d never meet him. Nobody ever meets him. I think he’s shy.
Street_Fang94: lol
Bookworm6467:  What’s so funny?
Street_Fang94: A crime-fighting werewolf that’s shy. That’s funny.
Bookworm6467: Well, how do you know he’s not shy? How do you know he’s really a werewolf? He stops crimes and stuff, then he runs away before anyone can see him. He just howls as he leaves the scene. I mean, there’s no real proof that he’s actually a werewolf other than sketchy testimonies. It could be a guy in a suit.
Street_Fang94:  I’ve heard all that on the forums, dude.
Bookworm6467: All I’m saying is that it doesn’t mean he’s a werewolf.
Street_Fang94: waitaminute - if you don’t believe, then why do you keep asking me about him?
Bookworm6467:  I’m curious. You know, kinda like you are? I want to find out if he’s a superhero, a werewolf, or a con man.
Street_Fang94:  What would you prefer?
Bookworm6467:  Werewolf.
Street_Fang94: Why?
Bookworm6467:  Why? Because werewolves are freaking cool! Duh!
Street_Fang94:  lol
Bookworm6467: Might I remind you that I’ve never asked if you were really the Howler, despite your location or your call name.
Street_Fang94:  That’s why I haven’t blocked you, BW, so don’t start. I won’t put up with that anymore.
Bookworm6467: Yeah, I kinda figured that’s why you left the forums, especially if they found out where you lived. It must have been annoying.
Street_Fang94: You have no idea.
Bookworm6467: Idiots like that don’t think it through. I mean, I doubt you’d be frequenting the forums if you were really the Howler.
Street_Fang94:  Why?
Bookworm6467: Are you kidding? You think that the Howler would put up with typing on a regular basis? I can see him getting claw marks on the keys, and shedding fur in-between them…
Street_Fang94:  lol Well what if he can shift back to a human?
Bookworm6467:  And then what? Surf ALAN for reported crimes in the area? Nah, he probably has to stay up on a rooftop somewhere and listen for trouble. Not much time for the forums if he has to do that.
Street_Fang94:  Good point.
Bookworm6467:  Crap – My lunch is over. Gotta go.
Street_Fang94:  np – ttyl
Bookworm6467: kk bye


  Chris closed the conversation window and the host portal, and then rubbed his face with his hands. The weary dread of his current situation loomed over his shoulders like a thunder cloud, ready to burst open. If only he told Bookworm the truth, then maybe his life might be more bearable with a friend who understood. He toyed multiple times with the idea of telling Bookworm that he truly was the Howler, but then what? Bookworm was fanatical, and would probably treat him just like the others on the forum started to treat him. Chris didn’t want a fan base; he was only trying to find an outlet for the animal he had become. No, he just couldn’t take the chance of losing one of the last few people with which he was willing to converse. His secret was something that he would have to endure on his own.
 
  He stood and turned off the computer terminal embedded in the wall, ignoring the loud, creaking instability from the decrepit wooden chair he sat in when using the electronic amenity. The chair, a torn couch, and two lamps were all the fixtures he had in the apartment. It was all he brought with him when he moved in. It was nearly all he had. He eventually found a box crate and a sheet of plywood for a makeshift coffee table, but he didn’t have anything to display upon it. He walked over to the kitchen. There was a bottle he recently filled with tap water and placed in the refrigerator. When he retrieved it, he noticed that it was refreshingly cold. He removed the cap and poured some into his mouth, swallowing almost immediately. The water was chilled well, but it gave little in variance to the quality of flavour he found on the streets. As he stared at the blank computer screen, reminders of what he had lost compared to what he had gained flooded his mind, only intensifying the isolation of his circumstance. 
 
  In the recent weeks, ever since he moved into his new apartment actually, Chris was feeling what must have been a distant cousin to solitary confinement. He thought getting off of the streets and into his own place would invigorate the feelings of freedom and independence. However, all of his friends and associates on the street had effectively ostracized him for somehow getting enough income to afford a place of his own, feeble though it was. He even invited many of them, but they stayed away from him like he was contagious. He had begun to build rapport with the guys at a local comic book store, but they were far from friends. He had no doubt that it would be a while before the opportunity to prove worthy of their camaraderie presented itself. In the meantime, he had not much more than what this measly apartment offered.

  Having his own computer was intimidating at first, but Chris decided to see it as an opportunity instead of a challenge. He quickly learned how to play the inherent games and programs, and eventually gained access to ALAN, the American Licensed Access Network. People on the streets still called it the net, or the internet, or the web. Chris was told that those terms were used for the network before the American Empire began registering, limiting, and even monitoring access with their artificially-intelligent software sentinel. He was surprised how much access he was given when he learned how to use it. The Empire was known more for the restrictions it enforced, not the freedom it offered. As a result, however, it didn’t give him access to the things he really needed to learn.

  It was only three years ago that Chris was tossed out of the commercial orphanage onto the streets. That was a difficult trial, but Chris had learned to make the best out of his situation. It was less than a year ago that he first turned into a werewolf. That was downright terrifying. He changed on a night with a crescent moon, not a full moon like all the stories say. It wasn’t long after that when he discovered that he could change into a werewolf at will. There were times when his emotions tried to invoke the change, but the streets had taught him self-control as well as self-reliance, so meeting that temptation was simple.

  He could not recall ever being bitten by anything, so he had no idea how he became a werewolf – unless he was born that way. If that was the case, then who were his parents, and why did they leave him at the orphanage? Why would parents do that to him? Yet even those questions paled in comparison to whether there were others like him. He tried to research the issue discreetly at the library, and even asked around in the streets when he could. Even so, he could never find any indications of other werewolves in existence, and the void of it gnawed at his soul.

  Chris tried many times to find information on werewolves when he accessed ALAN, but each time he was getting close, it would restrict him. The blasted sentinel was cutting him off. Fortunately, he already knew that he could find plenty of information at the library. Getting his new apartment gave him greater rights to more informational resources about all kinds of subjects. He was now considered a more productive citizen of the Empire since he could afford his own place. Therefore, he would be able to make deeper research into the subject of werewolves at the library – something ALAN couldn’t keep from him.

  Chris analyzed his situation, as he often did, by listing the facts. He had nothing to do. He had no money for Comics, so going to the shop was pointless. Bookworm wouldn't be available for another 4 hour at least. There were several hours before night.

  Chris decided to head to the library and make use of his new privileges.

Last edited by Grayle (2008-01-02 19:39:17)


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#3 2008-01-02 19:45:58

Niktoma
Advocatus Diaboli
Registered: 2007-07-20
Posts: 1077
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Way cool, good job Grayle!


'OK, how about werewolves?' said the voice eventually.
'What do they look like?' asked the kid.
'Ah, well, they look perfectly normal right up to the point where they grow all, like, hair and teeth and giant paws and leap through the window at you,' said the voice.

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#4 2008-01-03 13:02:21

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

In that case, I'll continue! smile
Well, that and also Punx asked me to write more...

-----


  The library was a popular place, but never overcrowded. Chris jumped off of the trolley bus that he rode into the appropriate area of downtown, made his way to the library, and started up the steps toward the ancient building. He glanced up at the top of it. He had already found his way to the roof of this building on previous nights. It was a great perch to listen to the sounds of the city, trying to identify the source if he heard trouble. There were a few other buildings that offered better vantage points, but none had the same amount of sentimental value.
 
  Chris entered the doors and approached the front desk. The brunette receptionist at the desk preferred to gaze her green eyes at the screen in front of her than look into the dark blue eyes that Chris had to offer. He watched as she moved her jaw in preparation of cracking her gum, and prepared himself for the inevitable sound. The crack grated across his ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. After she finished her indulgence, Chris announced his presence.
 
  “Name?” She asked.

  “Christopher Hansen.”

  The receptionist typed in his name and awaited his information to populate her screen, and then nodded. “Looks like you have Imperial Sanction, level two, but it doesn’t list an occupation.”

  “Self employed,” He said in the same indifference as the receptionist exhibited. The receptionist typed in an update to her information.

  “I can put you at station thirty-six, but it doesn’t have access to ALAN.”

  “That’s fine.”

  The receptionist typed in a few more things and a ticket printed up. She tore it off of the printer with mechanical monotony and handed it to Chris, finally meeting his eyes. The meeting seemed to have little effect on her disposition, if any. 

  “You’re good for three hours, but you could probably stay in that station until close. We’re not that busy today. If you want access to ALAN, you’ll need to apply for a different station.”

  Chris took the paper and said his thanks, then moved through the entrance to station thirty-six. Every aisle that he passed had at least one occupant, following their finger along the spines of books, or scrutinizing the cover, making an undisclosed judgment inappropriately. Even with all the cleaning solvents that came to his enhanced sense of smell, he could still make out the musty scent of the aged shelves holding uncounted tons of tangible knowledge. Chris finally approached station thirty-six, and began scanning the titles for his chosen subject.


  Most of what Chris found in his search was based on fiction, or a listing of the fictional characteristics of werewolves. They were usually solitary creatures, monsters that were created when a person was bitten by another werewolf. On the night of the full moon they would turn into a half-man, half-wolf form. They were mindless beasts that would roam around looking for throats to tear out. Silver would kill them somehow, and the only way to break the curse is to find the original source of the ‘bloodline’ and slaughter them in a gruesome manner. From his own experience, Chris was aware that most of this was not true.

  He knew that he didn’t change on the full moon. Why would that be, anyway? There’s no difference in moonlight when the moon is full, half-full, or crescent, except perhaps the quantity. And he could change whether it was overcast or not. So, it obviously wasn’t the moonlight itself that caused the change. In fact, Chris learned that he could invoke the change any time he wanted. So, that part of the myth was out.

  He once found some silver and tested his skin against it. It irritated his skin almost immediately, so it was reasonable that the silver part of the myth had some truth to it. He wasn’t about to test it any further. Chris also learned that he was able to sense – almost smell – when silver was near. It must be an instinctive reaction to the metal. Even so, as long as he was careful, he would be able to avoid that pitfall.

  There was also the fact that he was not a mindless, raging beast. When he was in his werewolf form, he was in total conscious control. He found himself more driven by his instincts, that much was true, but he was able to think for himself and even consciously deny his instincts. Regardless of the fact that he had such control over his instincts, they never drove him to go around killing people relentlessly. Most of his instincts were to find food, but it was up to him what he considered food and what he hunted.

  That was another thing: the stories say that werewolves are mechanically driven to hunt their prey. Chris had to admit that he loved to hunt prey; however it was his own choice as to what he hunted. He never hunted people, and he was never driven by his instincts to do so, like the tales implied. He usually went deep into the Imperial Forest Preserve and hunted a rabbit or deer. The more he thought about it, the more he was led to believe that the stories were meant to invoke fear and dread over a werewolf. Whatever it was that Chris had become, it was not something out of control that needed to be feared. With that in mind, it wasn’t necessarily a curse.

  Which brought up the final point: breaking the alleged curse. Chris didn’t really care if it was a curse; he only wished to find out more about what he was. And he wasn’t bitten, so what bloodline should he follow? Did he get this way from his parents, or was he some sort of genetic mutation? There were plenty of those in the American Empire, legal or not. Could it be that he was simply an abandoned genetic experiment?

  No; Chris refused to believe that. There was more to him that being a freak. Even if that was all he amounted to, he chose to become something more.

  That was one of the main reasons he became the Howler. He could use his abilities to the good of the community, and perhaps incline better thoughts toward werewolves, just in case there were others like him out there. As he became the Howler, he used to take spoils from the assailants he stopped, earning him a meager income. Then, others began to show their support, and he was soon able to set up a network of drop off points where he would often find food, or clothing, or even money waiting for him. To his surprise, the last few months have been rather stable in what was left at the drop off points, allowing him to get the lease on his apartment. Even so, there was no telling how long this arrangement would last, or who all was involved in it.

  There were a few store owners that witnessed his help, and they were the ones who instigated the first few drop off points. Every once in a while, he would find a note indicating another point, and he would carefully investigate in the case of a trap. Once he was satisfied of its validity, he would partake of the offering.

  Chris remembered one night when he found an official letter from a local branch of Department 5 of the American Empire, which was responsible for law enforcement. It was not signed, but indicated that the Howler’s efforts would be tolerated as long as the public was not in danger. It was a nice way to draw the line. Since then, Chris has been very careful to avoid causing damage as much as possible, just as a sign of good faith. Even so, he appreciated that the Empire was not trying to capture him for research; at least, not yet.

Last edited by Grayle (2008-01-03 13:11:37)


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#5 2008-01-03 13:29:34

Wolfy
Member
Registered: 2007-07-13
Posts: 260

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

I like your story very much Grayle; I think you should continue it and get it published.

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#6 2008-01-04 21:58:02

punxnotdead
Member
From: Canada...eh?
Registered: 2006-05-09
Posts: 11300

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

I think its an absolutely amazing start off. It captured my attention. I also liked how you introduced Chris before he came to DEP 118 and how he was searching for others his kind. I know if I was a werewolf, I'd be doing the same thing, which makes it very realistic and the kind of character that you can familiarize with. I also like how - in your alternate universe - you made an American Empire. There's nothing here that isn't to like. If I read the first page in a book store, I'd go out of my way to buy it and I'm not trying to be nice either - just honest. You have real potential.
Okie-dokie...I guess you don't want to hear me rant and rave...but it's great.


I'm an aspiring bodybuilder! smile
"Be yourself to be free." - The Unseen
I <3 SMALLVILLE!!!

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#7 2008-01-05 06:45:15

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Thanks very much Wolfy. You'll be happy to know that publishing this work once finished is one of my goals - that an an exquisite movie deal...
Hey, if you're gonna dream, dream big; right?
  Punx, thanks again for the encouragement as to whether this story would catch your attention of you started reading it. I really appreciate that.
  I'm going to continue this one, and maybe add another one later on. I'm hoping to slide both into the beginning of the story that's already here. If everything goes right, I'll have a nice, decent-sized book to market...

----------

Chris leaned back, pinched the bridge of his nose, brushed his fingers through his dark brown hair, and then stretched his arms above his head. He had been researching werewolves and lycanthropy for weeks at the library, on and off. It was getting to the point where he was familiar with all of the references that the library had to offer. He was sure that things would be much easier if he was able to access the resources that he knew ALAN was hiding from him, but he was still at an access level that was too restricted. It was apparent to him that he would not be getting any further in his research today, and the sun was starting to set.

  That meant he needed to decide on where he was going to prepare. As a precautionary measure, Chris would shift into his werewolf form at different locations around the city. It seemed a smart thing to do, but there were only so many places that were decent changing points. Of course, there was always the Imperial Forest Preserve, and he was getting hungry. Perhaps he could hunt a little in the fading forest light before the Howler began his patrol through the shadowed streets of Romberg.
 
  Chris stood from the small cubicle, put any books he retrieved on the cart at the end of the row of stations, and made for the exit. Many of the lights of the building had already turned off, since the occupancy had drastically reduced in the last hour or so. It gave the shelves of books a surreal appearance, as if they were some sort of trees in a wood, and anything could be hiding in between them. The feeling heightened his senses, which only made the urge to hunt become more prevalent. Perhaps he would find something in the forest to appease his inclinations.

  After exiting the library, Chris made his way across the street and caught the appropriate trolley bus, heading toward the Imperial Forest Preserve. The Preserve was a large piece of land over a thousand acres that was used for camping and hiking and the like, with plenty of wild animals that were friendly and a few that were not. Chris had always found a type of inner satisfaction when he was out there. Tonight would be no different, and his anticipation grew as he helped himself to an empty seat.

  For a moment, Chris began to watch the other people on the trolley bus. He could not help but feel the unseen air of difference that separated him from the rest of the occupants. There was an older man, white-haired and bearded, staring into the blue plastic back of the seat in front of him, as if it was going to move and he was going to catch it when it does. A woman was sitting behind him, reading a newspaper. Near the front of the bus was a mother, not even trying to control her three children, who were climbing over the empty seats and declaring their triumphs in scaling the plastic mountains. Chris caught the mother’s eyes, and suddenly she herded her children in response, ordering them to sit still next to her. She gave Chris one more glare of warning, and then refused to look at him again.

  What was it about him that made her think he was a threat? Did she have any idea who, or what, he was? Is that what she sensed, what she feared?

  Chris paid it no mind and turned his attention to the buildings and fences passing by, the distance between each increasing and their design changing as they left downtown and traveled into the suburbs. After two more transfers and twenty more minutes, he would be within walking distance to Ashley Campground. He could enter the Preserve from there, and then look for prey.


  The campground was usually sold out, simply because it was the closest to Romberg city limits. However, being September, the opportunities in camping took second place to schooling responsibilities. There were still a few campers, but not enough to pay Chris any attention. The fading light also helped conceal his presence, but it soon became obvious that Chris could be there with a blazing torch and none of the campers would notice him. He easily made his way around the sites and trudged into the forest. After a few minutes’ hike, he began to remove his clothing so that the only thing left was a tank top shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. He packed up his over shirt, cargo pants, socks and shoes, and then found some foliage to cover them with. As he finished placing his camouflage, he felt the isolation of the forest engulf him, and he involuntarily paused in thought.   

  Chris found his mind reviewing his segregation from the rest of the world. He remembered the lack of information on werewolves, he remembered the mother on the bus glaring at him, and he remembered how easy it was to be ignored by the campers. Without warning, he felt an enormous pang of loneliness overwhelm him. Was he the only one of his kind in existence? If so, why, and why him? Was there no one else that he could share his secret with?
 
  The questions infected his mind with a tenacity of an exotic virus, and he found that his immune system had no way to battle it. This was an enemy that only his mind could defeat.

  Wait – what was that?

  Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like something white took a hidden position behind the trunk of a nearby redwood. Chris peered in the direction, acutely listening, trying to find any sign to confirm that something was there. However, he knew that there was only one way to really find out.

  Ever so slowly, Chris approached the pine in question. The fallen needles under its canopy gave a soft cushion to his step, and improved his stealth. He drew near with intense care. Then at a pivotal moment, he used the bark as leverage and pounced around the girth of the tree to find…

Last edited by Grayle (2008-01-07 12:49:20)


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#8 2008-01-08 02:51:46

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Let's see if anyone catches my little cheat. This is a WIP after all...
-------

   Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  It was so odd. Chris was positive that he saw something, but the evidence proved otherwise. He looked deep into the growing darkness around him, scanned the ground for any markings, listened intently for any abnormal sound, and yet even with his honed senses, he discovered nothing.
 
  Of course, his senses were nowhere near as acute as when he was in his werewolf form, and since that’s the reason he came, there was no point in further delay. He once more scanned the surroundings until he was satisfied that he was alone, and then fell to his knees. Chris took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He listened to the internal workings of his body, soon found what he was looking for, and invoked the shift.

  Chris tensed as his body grew extremely hot. His blood sped through his veins and every cell in his body began to vibrate with change. An infinite number of stings ran over him as his amount of hair increased, and his current hair grew thicker. His bones and muscles ached, and his entire body screamed of pain, almost enough for him to cry out, but it only lasted for an instant before his nervous system compensated and blocked the hurting. Even so, the surging instability of his limbs caused him to fall onto all fours. The balls of his toes became pads to walk on as his thighs shortened. To the contrary, his calves, shins, and feet lengthened. His nose and mouth elongated to a muzzle, yet shorter than most canines. The outer rim of his ears lengthened and flattened. As his skull receded, his ears took a position near the top of his head. The tips of his fingers widened and hardened, making small pads. His thumbs did the same, but not to the same extent. His palms grew out to match the pads of his fingers, and his nails increased in length and thickness, almost at a perpendicular angle to his fingertips.

  As the change finished, Chris looked up and viewed the tops of the trees. He could hear the branches swaying in the cool night breeze. He heard the scuffling of some small creature traveling through the stems above. He heard the faint echo of bird song. The wind from the tops of the trees made its way down to him, caressing his chocolate fur and filling his nose with hundreds of different smells. With instinctive reaction, he took a long inhalation of the oxygen-enriched air. In his mind he isolated all of the odoriferous input, and suddenly there it was: the unmistakable scent of prey. It was only a rabbit, which means it would be a difficult hunt, but Chris felt up to the challenge. He sniffed a few more times to pinpoint the direction, and then trotted to find his intended meal.

  It wasn’t long before Chris noticed tracks that could only be created by his prey. He followed them, sniffing often to identify the distance from his target. When he soon became confident in the distance and direction, he slowed. He already knew he was downwind. Silently he approached from behind a redwood, and with one eye peered around the trunk to catch sight of his prey.

  The rabbit was chewing away on nearby leaves, facing away from Chris; so much the better. Every muscle tensed in his body, building to release, and then he leapt into the air and pounced at the rabbit. The rabbit looked up, but Chris was in the air, approaching from above. The tactic apparently didn’t matter to the rabbit, though, and it turned and darted in a direction perpendicular to Chris’ angle of trajectory. He landed with great velocity and failed to stay upright, stumbling as he tried to turn in the direction of his fleeing prey. However, he righted himself as quickly as possible and gave chase.

  The rabbit darted back and forth through the trees, but Chris was gaining. His calculating and aware mind, supplemented by his instincts, was a formidable tool. It was honed by capturing fleeing criminals as well as food. Closer and closer he came as the rabbit tried every attempt in losing him. Finally, Chris was within reach, and snapped at the rabbit with his jaws. He missed. He swiped the rabbit with his claws and barely caught its tail, but the rabbit did not falter. He got into range for one more attempt, but the rabbit suddenly darted down a hidden burrow. Chris overshot it. He doubled back quickly and attempted to dig the rabbit out of the burrow, yet to no avail. The tunnel went too deep. Chris pounded on the ground, raised his head, and howled his frustration to the night sky.

  Off in the distance, he heard a response. Chris knew what it was. He was hearing a territorial response from the wolves several miles away in the Native American Land Donation. There were those that called it the haunted forest. Many went in, but few ever came out. The Imperial Forest Preserve was created as an alternative for those who wished to challenge that legend, and an enormous wall was put in place to protect the haunted forest from those that were just too stubborn. In his werewolf form Chris might have been able to scale the wall, but he refused the temptation. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble with the Imperial authorities, for fear of jeopardizing his unofficial alliance with them.

  Chris imagined that a pack of wolves would never be outsmarted by a rabbit; yet he was, and now his hunger was even stronger. There was only one option left, so he headed back to the city of Romberg.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#9 2008-01-08 19:11:45

punxnotdead
Member
From: Canada...eh?
Registered: 2006-05-09
Posts: 11300

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Very nice, Grayel! I didn't know you posted more earlier or I would have replied. I like how you describe the forest around him and how alone he feels. It's very effective for the reader to sympathis with him. Can't wait to read more!


I'm an aspiring bodybuilder! smile
"Be yourself to be free." - The Unseen
I <3 SMALLVILLE!!!

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#10 2008-01-09 16:23:07

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

I'm very  glad you liked it, Punx. Very glad, indeed!
Now, I gave a hidden tribute to you in this next segment. I can take it out of you'd prefer, but here we go.

---------

In his werewolf form, Chris discovered that he could slip through the suburban streets practically unseen. If he was seen, he would be mistaken for a large dog on the loose. The distance that he needed to traverse was not a concern. He could cover distances nearly a hundred times the size that he could in his human form, to his estimation, and he could cover them in less than half the amount of time. On the transit system, it took him an hour to get from the library to Ashley campground, walking included. In his werewolf form it took a little less than that, because the route was more direct and he didn’t have to make unnecessary stops. Within the hour, he was in his chosen area, encompassing the alleyways and rooftops of downtown.

  This particular area of downtown suffered from the removal of several businesses, was not very well lit, and therefore was safe for him to frequent. It also attracted the most assailants, and quite a few transients. Even so, two of his drop off points were very close to the area. He decided to check those before he put any effort into his patrols.

  The first drop off point was ironically on top of an old convenience store, next to a butcher and delicatessen. Chris had stopped attempted robberies of both places, but since that time, the convenience store had closed down. The butcher/delicatessen was still doing well. Chris considered it fortunate that this was one of the first crimes that he stopped. Three of the people working at the store saw him jumping into the darkness when fleeing the scene. He later found cuts of meat on the roof of the convenience store, wrapped in a plastic bag, hanging from a makeshift wire hook attached to an old-fashioned television antenna. He had regularly found such gifts waiting for him.

  Chris scanned the surroundings and, when he was certain it was safe to do so, he scaled the fire escape onto the top of the convenience store and looked for the wire hook. Sure enough, there was a white plastic bag hanging from the hook, and there was something inside of it. His powerful sense of smell already informed him that there was a meal waiting for him there. With graceful swiftness, Chris sprinted across the rooftop and leaped from the other side into an alleyway, grabbing the plastic bag in the process. He continued his sprint down the alleyway into a dark, secluded corner of a parking garage, opened the bag and the paper wraps, and finally began to consume the contents. The taste of the raw trimmings tantalized his hunger, and he devoured the meat voraciously. He took a moment and allowed the meal to digest, curbing his appetite and filling his veins with satisfying energy.

  As he relaxed, Chris began to reminisce about a time when he placed an envelope on the hook with some money in it to pay for the meat in thanks. The next night, he found a note along with the money he left. It said that they wanted to give him the meat; it was a better alternative to throwing the scraps away. The note said that he could consider it on the house – pun intended. Since then, he would sometimes prepare a note to hang on the hook with the words ‘thank you’ scribbled upon it. After a few times, he received a note indicating that there was another drop off point that he could try out, and later on he was informed of yet another, and another. He investigated them and found most to be legitimate. That was how his support network was born.

  There were also a few times when he caught someone in a darkened corner or through a window, hoping to see him take the offering. At least they were smart enough to not try catching him on film. He was fortunate that the people who worked at this business respected him enough to keep his secret; he was well aware that not many would be so kind. When he was certain that they were alone and not trying to prove his existence to their friends or something of the like, he would provide his own offering of thanks. The discreet observers would catch a quick glimpse of the undisclosed contender of the streets, the legendary Werewolf in the Shadows of Romberg, the Howler.

  After a few moments, Chris picked up the bag for a closer inspection. Upon shifting the bag, Chris found a note at the bottom. He awkwardly removed it with his somewhat nimble paws, unfolded it, and read the message:

      Hey, how’z it howling?
       I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be on vacation next week. Ryan and Melissa will still be here,
       and I’ve told them to look after your food bowl - no offense. I hope you’re doing okay. Thanks again
       for all your help. It’s really, really nice that we don’t have any bad guys hanging around here anymore.   
            Justin


  Chris let out a chuff-like laugh at the note. Justin must be a pretty good employer if he’s thoughtful enough to let the Howler know he’ll be out of town. Chris found himself considering an application for a position at the counter of the deli. It would definitely supplement his income and perhaps his food intake as well. Then again, it may be long hours on top of his nocturnal protection. Even so, he promised himself that he would consider it further when he had the time. Right now, he wanted to check his other nearby drop off point.

  Four blocks away, there was an alley populated by several locked dumpsters. Three stories above the dumpsters, on the side of a hotel, was an unused and unseen ledge that Chris could leap onto from the roof of an office building across the alley. On that ledge was a fake rock, and under that fake rock was a key to one of the dumpsters. The location of the key and what it unlocked was given to Chris in a note at the Butcher’s drop off point.

  Since then, he had received very interesting gifts from this location, including the official letter from the local branch of Department 5. A few times, he even found cash awaiting him in the dumpster. Once he found a key to a safe deposit box at the Romberg city bank. An attached tag simply said “For the Howler.” Although he still had the key, he had never attempted to pick up the contents, since it would mean entering the bank in human form. The note never said who it was from. Attempting to retrieve the contents would simply be too revealing. He wasn’t about to do it until he got further information on the source. Even so, sometimes the temptation was difficult to resist.

  Chris climbed the outside of the office building to the roof and leaped to the ledge, carefully keeping vigil for hidden eyes all the while. He overturned the rock, retrieved the key, and made his hidden way down to the dumpster. With his hand-like paws, it took a little practice to figure out how to open the lock, but he soon developed a system that worked efficiently. He opened the lid, peered inside, and found...

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Of course, there had been other times when the dumpster had been empty, but this time only echoed the ambient feelings of alienation that were sequentially washing over him like the waves of the sea. Though his hunger for food was satisfied, the hunger for social interaction plagued him, and it was beginning to darken his mood. The only way he had found to successfully subvert these feelings was to act like a useful member of the community. As a result, he replaced the key in its hidden position and climbed to the top of the hotel. There, he began to listen for murmurs of tribulation among his fellow citizens.

Last edited by Grayle (2008-01-10 15:08:31)


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#11 2008-01-11 19:47:06

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

hmmmm.... didn't find the tribute? oh, well. On we go...
-----

  The night air was quiet and still among the rooftops. The breeze in the Forest Preserve did not travel as far as downtown, and the sparse clouds did little to stop the heavenly expanse from boasting to onlookers of its vastness. Above the streets, the light pollution was blocked by the looming buildings, so the view of the night sky was even more splendid than from the ground. The moon was only half full; this caused many unsavory individuals to develop a false sense of security, thinking that the lack of a full moon protected them from possible subversion bestowed upon them by The Howler. It was unfortunate that they restricted their thinking to the parameters of the lunar cycle.

  The Howler sat on the ledge of a hotel rooftop, scanning the light sources, his acute hearing expanded to pick up on any ambient sounds that may tell of trouble. To the far right, I woman yelled at her boyfriend over a cell phone. A block away, there was the hiss of air brakes being activated. Three blocks away, two teenagers were comparing their latest exploits. Down a distant alleyway, an inebriated gentleman was sharing his processed alcohol with a brick wall. Almost two blocks to the left, there was the shattering of glass. It was enough to warrant a closer inspection.

  He, the unseen guardian of the streets, stood from his roost and sprinted toward the north ledge of the roof with remarkable speed and agility. At the last possible moment he planted his right foot on the ledge and hurled himself through the air at the rooftop across the street, seven stories below. He landed on the six-story building across the street with barely a huff, and continued. The sound came from the next block, where he knew there was a pawn shop that was new to the area, and not very well protected. In truth, he was expecting the shop to be pilfered sooner than this, but if now was the time, so be it.

  Using the assistance of a drainage pipe, the Howler descended to a fire escape ladder and swung to the alley below. With careful vigilance, he peered through the darkness of the surroundings to make sure it was safe to investigate, and swiftly entered the establishment while shrouded in the gloom.

  The two unwelcome patrons were acting quickly, and both were full of agitation, but efficient in collecting their chosen items from the shelves. They both wore garments of no other color than black, and also wore LED flashlights on their heads, lighting the way before them. A third shape from the shadows picked up a universal remote from a nearby shelf and tossed it high into the air. The remote landed on the other side of the room behind the cashier counter.

  Instantly, both men stopped, brandished hand-held firearms, and pointed them in the direction of the register.

  “Check it out,” commanded the taller of the two with a low voice.

  With a nervous glance to his comrade, the shorter slowly approached the counter. With a sudden move, he turned and blocked the entrance to behind the counter, pointing his gun down the alcove. The flashlight fastened to his forehead informed him that nothing was there, but a rectangular object in the middle of the floor behind the counter. He approached and picked up the object.

  “It’s just a remote,” he announced, and showed it to the taller. “It must have fell off the counter.”

  “No,” the taller disagreed with a steady, tense voice, “That’s not where they keep the remotes.” He slowly turned behind, facing toward the shelves on the other side of the room.

  The shorter quietly placed the remote on the counter and held up his gun, pointing it toward the area that the taller was slowly approaching. The remotes were displayed on the ends of two parallel aisles. The taller was walking down an adjacent aisle. He paused at the end of the aisle, then suddenly turned and flashed his gun down the ends of the aisles.

  Nothing there.

  When the taller moved his attention around the room, the shorter exhaled and relaxed his stance.

  And that was when he disappeared behind the counter. A scream reverberated throughout the room; then two thuds and all was silent.

  The taller approached the counter slowly. He quickly unloaded his clip and reloaded his gun with another that he retrieved from his jacket pocket. Before he could get close enough, something large darted out of the entrance to the register counter. The taller shot twice, and then ran for cover behind a rack of shelves. He was facing the back of the store, his back was against the rack and the front entrance was behind him. He looked to the sides of the store and saw a door with a sign that said ‘employees only,’ but a sign posted above the door said ‘emergency exit.’

  He waited for a few seconds, then he stood, shot two rounds to either side of the front entrance, and launched at the emergency exit.

  Chris was having fun. It had been a while since he had the opportunity to be so elusive in stopping criminals, and watching them panic in fear tickled him. The first was almost too easy to incapacitate, but the second was proving to be a challenge. Nonetheless, the smell of the criminal’s sweat and his heavy, quivering breaths betrayed his fear. It was the price of trying to carry out a crime in the Howler’s turf.

  Chris darted out from behind the counter before the taller could get there. He heard shots trying to follow him as he took cover. Seconds later, his nose was met with a pungent aroma. He was vaguely familiar with the smell, but the heat of the rounds augmented their odor.

  Silver.

  The bastard was actually using silver bullets! No one had tried that before!

  Chris felt his heartbeat begin to race instinctively, but he could not afford to be out of control. He quietly took a quick breath, and realized that he had to incapacitate the second crook immediately. He scanned the room, and his sense of hearing and smell identified exactly where the criminal was hiding. He was closer to the back door than the front entrance.

  Sure enough, the crook rose and fired two shots toward the front entrance. It was plainly obvious that he was going to attempt the back door. Chris leaped over the shelves toward the back door. He watched the crook aim and shoot at him as he sailed through the air directly at the crook. Chris felt a searing pain attack his right side under his ribs, but did not let it overcome him. He had to finish this. The crook would not get away. He landed less than a foot away from the crook and slashed at the crook’s left upper leg.

  The crook screamed in pain as he stumbled into a rack of clothes, toppling the fixture and landing upon its remnants. Chris stood over the crook and met his eyes. A low growl emanated from his throat, and then he issued a terrifying roar only inches away from the crooks face. The crook cried out in terror, but the sound was drowned out by the roar of the werewolf looming over him.

  Chris grabbed the man by the neck and banged his head against the wall to the right of the emergency exit, rendering the criminal unconscious.
The pain from the gunshot returned to him, but now was not the time to survey his wound. He opened the emergency exit, which activated a buzz alarm, and exited through it. He was in the alley on the side of the store. He leaped onto the ladder of the fire escape, climbed to the top of the building, then began running and vaulting his way to the roof of the library.

Last edited by Grayle (2008-01-13 23:07:05)


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#12 2008-01-13 20:25:28

punxnotdead
Member
From: Canada...eh?
Registered: 2006-05-09
Posts: 11300

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Ooo, I found the piece with the hint...haha. I don't mind at all. You could post anything in your story about me and I wouldn't mind. I love the segment. I may not have time to come on often, but I'll still continue to read your story. I've got exams coming up in a few days and I have to study. From now on your story, Loup's and Niktoma's will be my top priority. I cannot wait for more!!!


I'm an aspiring bodybuilder! smile
"Be yourself to be free." - The Unseen
I <3 SMALLVILLE!!!

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#13 2008-01-14 11:05:05

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Thank you very much, Punx! I'll try to keep the segments short, so they don't take up too much time.
--------

  By the time he reached the library roof, Chris was feeling intense amounts of stinging and aching from the wound at his side. As if from a different world, Chris heard the sound of law enforcement vehicles speeding away in the direction from which he just arrived. Normally he would have howled once the criminals were subverted, but there were other things on his mind this time, and he chose to forego the tradition. The emergency exit alarm must have tipped them off.

  He sat against the wall of the roof access from the Library and tried to explore the wound with his paw. His tank top now had a tear, and when he tried to touch the wound underneath, it increased in pain and he whined.

  This was not the first time that he had been wounded. Chris already knew that shifting back to human form would address any injury depending on its severity. It was a side affect to his entire body reshaping itself into another form. However, this was his first wound inflicted by silver. Would the shift be able to help? He would have rather waited to find out by making his way to the Forest Preserve where his clothes were, but he really didn’t want to take the chance of waiting any longer, in case time was an important factor. He could always change back later, and then either head to the Preserve or his apartment.

  After a few moments of forced deep breaths and taking a position on all fours, Chris had calmed to the point where he could invoke the shift. Once again, he felt the heat invade every fiber of his body, preparing it to twist and writhe back into a more humane form. Uncomfortable aching coursed through his muscles, tendons and cartilage burned as they stretched and reduced. His bones repeatedly dislocated and snapped back in place as they twisted into normal human dimensions. His muzzle retracted, his lips became more pronounced, his brow increased, and his ears returned to the sides of his head. Most of the fur and extra body hair that covered him began to fall out of his pores and coat the gravel, tar, and stepping stones that were positioned underneath him. The bite of the night air grabbed hold of his skin, and since by that time the heat of the change diminished, a shiver ran the length of his skin.

  Once the change finished, he leaned back on his knees and gingerly reached for the gunshot wound. As his fingers made the slightest contact he felt intense pain, seemingly from both the injury and his own fingers themselves. His face tightened and he grimaced in reaction to the pain. Chris sat back against the wall of the roof access again, and then his countenance fell. His injury had not healed, and seemed to be getting worse. He was starting to feel dizzy. The small partitions of greenery strategically placed along the rooftop all seemed to haze into a singular form, so apparently his vision was being affected. He was also getting short of breath. He tried to think of something he could do, anyone he could contact. Finally he realized that, even with his support network, there was no one to help him.

  Chris began to seriously contemplate his situation. It was as if he was instinctively following the tradition of reviewing his life before his death. He had discovered that he was a werewolf, and despite being the only one he could find, he made the best of it that he could. Now, here he is on the top of a library, possibly going to die from a silver bullet, and no one would know his story. The Howler would stop being seen, and no one would know what happened. They may not even find his body up here for months, or even years, for all he knew. Though it wasn’t restricted, no one ever came up to the roof of the library.

  At that one moment, he felt more alone than he had ever felt in his life. If he was supposed to fulfill some sort of destiny with his lycanthropy, it didn’t matter now. He opened his eyes and tried to focus them on the brightest star he could find in the night sky. Silently he apologized to whoever may be involved for his failure. He figured it was the right thing to do before he passed, even though he had no idea how much longer he had. He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#14 2008-01-14 18:00:04

WritingWulf
Member
From: Wisconsin
Registered: 2007-11-16
Posts: 5645

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Wow! good stuff Grayle! The viewpoint of loneliness is great for a werewolf. I myself like to put the werewolf in a state of love or absolute loneliness but you made it so i could imagine the main as anyone that i would see on the street! Your descriptions of his interactions with things around him really help to. All in all its a great one, ill have to buy it when it gets published!

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#15 2008-01-15 15:24:50

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Thank you very much, Writer! If it's okay to ask, did you find the change of views in post #11 confusing? I have a real trial with that technique, and I'm not sure it should even be there because I don't use it anywhere else. It feels out of place to me.
Anyway, on with the story....

------

  “Are you hurt?” a voice abruptly asked from somewhere to the right.

  Chris opened his eyes and looked in that direction to see a blond-haired, brown-eyed woman. She was wearing purely white clothing; it was practically glowing, and there was no other color. It seemed almost surreal in appearance; in fact, her presence itself seemed somewhat unbelievable. Was she an angel?

  “Are you hurt?” she asked again.

  Chris was still unsure whether he should respond. He was almost unsure how to respond.

  The woman looked him over, and her gaze soon met with his wound. Her eyes widened as they looked back to meet his own.

  “Is it silver?” she asked.

  She knew. She knew who he was, what he was. Apprehension radiated from his face as Chris tried to move backward and away from her, blocked by the wall he was sitting against.

  She put up her hands in surrender. “Don’t worry; your secrets are safe with me – as long as my secrets are safe with you. But if that's from silver infection, you should let me have a look.”

  Chris inhaled a quivering breath. He was having trouble thinking. Was it due to his wound, or the absurdity of this sequence of events? He was a lone werewolf in the world, about to die from a silver bullet on the roof of a library, and some woman with bleach-white glowing clothes shows up and wants to inspect his wound?

  Was she an angel, or a nurse?     

  “Look, my name is Julie,” she offered. “I know you’re the Howler. I only want to help you; honest. You don’t even have to tell me your name. Just let me take a look, okay?”

  With a slight pause but still without a word, Chris awkwardly rolled onto his side, exposing his wound for her inspection. The woman, Julie, approached and surveyed the injury.

  “It feels worse than it is. You’re lucky. The bullet right passed through you, from the looks of it. The entry and exit wounds are still open, but not that much silver had a chance to take affect. The bleeding has stopped, but we should still get you patched up as soon as we can. It’s going to ache for a week or two, like a human wound. The silver will hinder it from healing when you shift; since you’re already in human form, I’d guess you already found that out.”

  Chris rolled onto his back and sat up, refusing to give way to the pain, and looked at her.

  “Who are you?” he asked emphatically.

  She smiled as she produced a long piece of fabric from her waist. She kneeled at his side and began wrapping it around his abdomen. “I told you. My name is Julie.”

  Chris sighed at the evasion. “And you just happened to be in the area, knowing who I am and where I’d go?”

  “Oh, no. Usually, I’m looking for people who are incredibly lonely. At first I found you in the Imperial Forest Preserve, but had to leave. Then, I came back and found you up here feeling lonely again – well, you started out that way, but then you just got melodramatic. That’s kind of distasteful in my opinion, by the way. I noticed that you seemed to be hurt, and figured I’d be a Good Samaritan.”

  “Gee; thanks,” Chris said as he lifted up his back so she could get around it. He reconsidered his sarcastic comment; he wasn’t really in a position to show such a lack of appreciation, but her explanation gave the feeling of a hidden apathy or annoyance. Still, he really should be more thankful.

  Chris thought about what she said. She was there in the Forest Preserve; she must have been the flash of white that he thought he saw. He wanted to ask her about who or what she was, but he sensed that she wasn’t about to tell him. There was something about her voice, about her no-nonsense actions. It was almost like she wasn’t supposed to be here, like she was taking a risk in helping him. Even so, this was an opportunity that he couldn’t afford to let pass by.

  “So do you know a lot about werewolves?”

  “I know that silver can kill them,” she confirmed. Her dark brown eyes broke from tying the cloth over his wound, and met with his dark blue eyes. “And I know that you aren’t the only one.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me regret telling you.”

  Chris fought vigorously to not allow the shock of this development overtake him. There were others, and she knew there were others.

  “Others? Where? Where are they?”

  She held up a hand to stop his inquiries. “Look, I’ve already said too much. I don’t want to get in trouble with others like me.”

  Chris immediately began to open his mouth in protest, but she continued before he could.

  “I know that’s not fair, but I’ve got to be careful for my own sake. I will tell you this much: you’ll be finding out a lot more about who you are very soon.”

  “What?” Chris protested. “Wait a minute! You can’t tell me a thing?!”

  Julie eyed him once again. “Hey; I already told you that you aren’t the only one of your kind, and that you’ll be finding out more very soon. That will have to do. I suggest you rest a little while and then find your way home.”
 
  Chris tried once again to continue his protest. Yet before he could say any more, Julie brought up a finger in warning. Chris reluctantly fell silent.
 
  Julie stood from kneeling at his side and walked over to the ledge. She then turned and looked at Chris one last time.

  “Thanks for respecting my limits. Remember: your secrets are safe with me as long as my secrets are safe with you.”

  With that, she turned back around and promptly walked off the ledge of the roof. She just walked off the edge of the roof, falling to her death!
Chris immediately got up and ran to the ledge, but even as he did, he knew he was too late to save her. He peered over the edge, and found no indication that she ever met the ground.

  She disappeared, just as abruptly as she appeared in the first place.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#16 2008-01-17 18:14:13

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Smaller post. Sorry.

  Chris took an hour or two to rest, more out of his body’s enticement than Julie’s. When he felt prepared, he shifted back to his werewolf form and headed for his home. He could have tried to get to the Forest Preserve, but he was not certain he would make it before sunrise, and his apartment was closer.

  He got to the roof of his apartment building without incident. His apartment was on the third story of a three-story building, and he kept his sliding glass door to the porch unlocked just in case he needed to access it without his keys. He found the porch for his apartment, swung from the roof onto the porch, and entered his domicile quietly as the ebony night sky began to develop an indigo hue over the eastern mountains.

  The first thing Chris did was head to the bathroom. He awkwardly stepped into the bathtub and once again shifted back to human form. The bathtub worked well to catch all of the fur that fell from his body as he changed. Once the shift was complete, Chris exited the bathtub. He removed his tank top, shorts, and untied the cloth that was covering his wound. He stretched by raising his arms above his head and found aching and stiffness accompanying the much-reduced pain, just as Julie predicted.

  After stretching, Chris positioned himself in front of the mirror to try to get a view of the injury. It looked like a very small hole on his right side, under his ribs. Only a few centimeters behind it was a larger hole: the exit wound. It looked much worse than the entry point. However, neither wound was secreting any fluid, nor did they look to be infected except for the redness around each opening. He looked back at his reflection. Bags of weariness hung beneath his eyes, and fatigue was beginning to make its presence known in every one of his muscles. 

  “This was by far the most eventful night of my entire life,” He told the reflection. “And before you ask, yes; there even was even a girl involved.”

  The reflection didn’t seem to have any more interest than what Chris himself felt.

  With a sigh, Chris picked up his torn tank top and used it as a new bandage to protect his injury. It was the best thing he had for now. He exited his bathroom and went to the almost-empty bedroom. Robotically he staggered toward a few cardboard boxes that he used to divide up his laundry, not that he had much. He grabbed a shirt and another pair of shorts from the boxes, donned the items, and then headed out to the living room. As he passed the bathroom door, he made a mental note to deal with the hair in his bathtub later. Right now he simply wanted to collapse on the sofa and sleep; the eastern sky was only beginning to herald the sun’s arrival. Chris closed the drapes to his porch so that he would not have to deal with the light coming in around seven o’clock, as it usually did this time of year. With that done, he climbed onto the sofa and let his mind relax until it faded into unconsciousness.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#17 2008-01-20 03:04:34

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Longer post. However, it's mostly line skips, so no worries.
------

  Five hours later, Chris awoke on the couch to the blaring call of his stomach. He sat upright on the couch and stretched. The pain from his injury was dull, and it itched. Chris did his best not to scratch at it as he stood and made his way to the kitchen. On the way there, his stomach again growled; no, actually it roared. He currently had half a dozen frozen steaks; spoils from what the butcher and others supplied him with over the last week. He retrieved three steaks and put them in the microwave, setting the machine to automatically scan the contents and begin defrosting them appropriately.

  As the meat defrosted he made his way to the bathroom, collected the fur from the tub, and flushed it down the toilet in small increments. By the time he was finished, the microwave announced it was finished as well. Chris went back to the kitchen and retrieved the steaks. They were still raw, and slightly warm. Chris began to tear into them without a second thought. There was a time when it might have bothered him that he was eating raw meat, but now it seemed like the most normal thing in the world. 

  After he finished the meat and his stomach was graciously satisfied, it was time to check his messages. The computer terminal whined to life after Chris pressed the power button, and the chair creaked as he sat down in it. A few minutes later, the welcome screen announced that he had two messages waiting for him. Both turned out to be spam, so he deleted them. Suddenly a window popped open unexpectedly.

Bookworm6467:  Hey, Fang. What’s up?

  Chris sighed, and then smiled. He felt gratitude bubble up inside of him in response to being greeted by Bookworm. BW was the only one that kept in regular contact with him, and right now he really felt the need for a friend. Even so, he had no easy answer to the question looming in his mind: how much was safe to talk about?

Street_Fang94:  Not much. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?
Bookworm6467:  I am at work. Just not in the office. You?
Street_Fang94:  Rough night. I got hurt. Not sure how bad.

  There was a pause before Bookworm responded.

Bookworm6467:  Is everything okay? Do you need anything?
Street_Fang94:  lol – what? You’ll go to the store for me?
Bookworm6467:  You never know. Maybe I can arrange something…
Street_Fang94:  Thanks, BW, but I’m fine for right now.
Bookworm6467:  You’ll tell me if you need anything, right?

  This was very odd. Why was Bookworm pushing to help out so strongly? Chris didn’t see any detriment to taking the direct approach in trying to find out.

Street_Fang94:  Why are you asking me that?

  There was another pause before the reply.

Bookworm6467:  I wanted to keep it for a surprise, but I’m having trouble finding out where you live. I’m in Romberg, on assignment. I was hoping to drop by and surprise you, but it’s kind of a moot point if you’re hurt.

  Bookworm is in Romberg? He’s in the city, right now?

Street_Fang94:  Where are you?
Bookworm6467:  I’m staying at the Tollamek Hotel. You know where that is?
Street_Fang94:  Yeah. Other side of town from me. I can meet you there. Will you have time?
Bookworm6467:  Oh Heck Yeah! I’ll make time!
Street_Fang94:  lol

  Chris really did laugh out loud. A surge of excitement bolstered his energy, and his disposition rose to record levels. Even the injury on his side felt like the pain wasn’t there anymore. He had a friend in town, his closest friend; his only friend, really.

Bookworm6467:  I don’t want to impose or anything. If you’re hurt, I can make it over to you.
Street_Fang94:   NBD - I can handle it. Besides, your side of town is friendlier.
Bookworm6467:  lol - well, you’d know more than I would! When do you want to meet?

  Chris looked at the system clock on the terminal desktop; it was a little after ten thirty in the morning. He reviewed his itinerary for the day: sleep, eat, heal, repeat. Due to his injury, it was unlikely that the Howler would make an appearance tonight. However, he needed to retrieve his clothing from the Forest Preserve, and he also wanted to go back to the library and try to find what he could about Julie – that is, if he could actually find anything at all. He could scratch out the repetition of the items he had already accomplished, move up the library visit, and meet Bookworm in the late afternoon.

Street_Fang94:  How about 4:00? In the Lobby?
Bookworm6467:  4:00? Yeah, I can pencil you in…
Street_Fang94:  tongue  lol
Bookworm6467:  big_smile It’s going to be terrific to finally meet you! I guess I should go ahead and give you my real name. It’s Phillip Alton. You can call me Phil.
Street_Fang94:  Mine’s Christopher Hansen. You can call me Chris.
Bookworm6467:  Nice to meet you, Chris!
Street_Fang94:  Nice to meet you too, Phil!
Bookworm6467:  Hate to say it, but I gotta go. I didn’t come to Romberg just for you, you know…
Street_Fang94:  lol I understand. See you at 4:00, then?
Bookworm6467:  Oh this is going to be great!! See you at 4:00!
Street_Fang94:  ttyl
Bookworm6467:  kk bye! big_smile

  Chris could hardly hold back his excitement. This was just what he needed. He powered off the computer and went to get dressed. First, he would retrieve his clothes in the forest. Then, he would do some research at the library. And then he would finally get to meet Bookworm, face to face.

  Today was going to be a great day.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#18 2008-01-22 13:17:14

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)


   
  The mid-morning travelers on the trolley bus were sparse at best. As a result, the stops were less frequent and the bus stayed on time. Chris was at the entrance to Ashley campground before noon. He jogged up through the campground. Only two of the campsites were taken, and the occupants were not present. Chris continued through into the forest, and it didn’t take long to find his clothes, still intact. He retrieved his keys and wallet, changed his shoes, wrapped up the residuals in the extra shirt and pair of pants, and finally jogged back to the bus stop.


  It was about one o’clock when he arrived at the library. A different, more social attendant was at the front desk.
 
  “Can I have your name, sir?” She asked with a smile, looking up at Chris.

  “Christopher Hansen.”

  “Good Afternoon, Mr. Hansen. We have – hmmm…” She cut off as she peered at the results of her screen.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said thoughtfully. “Would you mind if I check something really quick?”

  Chris shook his head no innocently, trying not to be anxious.

  After checking a sheet that was held by a clipboard hanging on the wall behind her, the attendant went back to her screen.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to verify the status of one of our stations. We have station fourteen listed as available, but it was checked out earlier and the person hasn’t turned in their ticket. Unfortunately that’s the only station even close to available for you right now. The person may be finished with it, but then again, they may not be.”

  “Well, if they’re there, I can wait for a little while and look up some books manually if I have to until they’re finished,” Chris responded.

  The attendant smiled sincerely. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Hansen. I do apologize for the inconvenience.”

  Chris nodded with a smile. “No problem at all.” With current expectations of later events, a little station sharing wasn’t going to have any affect on his mood.

  The attendant printed off his ticket and handed it to him, again with thanks. Chris smiled in response, and made his way to station fourteen.

  The station was empty, but the terminal was still powered on. When Chris approached he saw a document open for editing on the screen, possibly notes of a work in progress. He discreetly took a closer look. The name of the document was History of events leading to Department 118, and the author was listed as Rachel Blackwood.

  Chris scanned the surroundings, looking for any possible indication of the owner. The library was busy today; Chris couldn’t think of a good way to pick Miss Blackwood out of the crowd. He considered the situation thoughtfully, and decided that he would give her a few minutes to appear. If she didn’t, he would inform the front desk, they would save the work as a file, and then he could continue. However, since he was officially assigned to this station anyway, he saw no harm in sampling Rachel Blackwood’s displayed work.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#19 2008-01-22 16:01:39

punxnotdead
Member
From: Canada...eh?
Registered: 2006-05-09
Posts: 11300

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

I just finished this segment since I have 20 minutes at school to read. I love it! Great action sequence. I'll read as much as I can in five more minutes!

Grayle wrote:

Thank you very much, Punx! I'll try to keep the segments short, so they don't take up too much time.
--------

  By the time he reached the library roof, Chris was feeling intense amounts of stinging and aching from the wound at his side. As if from a different world, Chris heard the sound of law enforcement vehicles speeding away in the direction from which he just arrived. Normally he would have howled once the criminals were subverted, but there were other things on his mind this time, and he chose to forego the tradition. The emergency exit alarm must have tipped them off.

  He sat against the wall of the roof access from the Library and tried to explore the wound with his paw. His tank top now had a tear, and when he tried to touch the wound underneath, it increased in pain and he whined.

  This was not the first time that he had been wounded. Chris already knew that shifting back to human form would address any injury depending on its severity. It was a side affect to his entire body reshaping itself into another form. However, this was his first wound inflicted by silver. Would the shift be able to help? He would have rather waited to find out by making his way to the Forest Preserve where his clothes were, but he really didn’t want to take the chance of waiting any longer, in case time was an important factor. He could always change back later, and then either head to the Preserve or his apartment.

  After a few moments of forced deep breaths and taking a position on all fours, Chris had calmed to the point where he could invoke the shift. Once again, he felt the heat invade every fiber of his body, preparing it to twist and writhe back into a more humane form. Uncomfortable aching coursed through his muscles, tendons and cartilage burned as they stretched and reduced. His bones repeatedly dislocated and snapped back in place as they twisted into normal human dimensions. His muzzle retracted, his lips became more pronounced, his brow increased, and his ears returned to the sides of his head. Most of the fur and extra body hair that covered him began to fall out of his pores and coat the gravel, tar, and stepping stones that were positioned underneath him. The bite of the night air grabbed hold of his skin, and since by that time the heat of the change diminished, a shiver ran the length of his skin.

  Once the change finished, he leaned back on his knees and gingerly reached for the gunshot wound. As his fingers made the slightest contact he felt intense pain, seemingly from both the injury and his own fingers themselves. His face tightened and he grimaced in reaction to the pain. Chris sat back against the wall of the roof access again, and then his countenance fell. His injury had not healed, and seemed to be getting worse. He was starting to feel dizzy. The small partitions of greenery strategically placed along the rooftop all seemed to haze into a singular form, so apparently his vision was being affected. He was also getting short of breath. He tried to think of something he could do, anyone he could contact. Finally he realized that, even with his support network, there was no one to help him.

  Chris began to seriously contemplate his situation. It was as if he was instinctively following the tradition of reviewing his life before his death. He had discovered that he was a werewolf, and despite being the only one he could find, he made the best of it that he could. Now, here he is on the top of a library, possibly going to die from a silver bullet, and no one would know his story. The Howler would stop being seen, and no one would know what happened. They may not even find his body up here for months, or even years, for all he knew. Though it wasn’t restricted, no one ever came up to the roof of the library.

  At that one moment, he felt more alone than he had ever felt in his life. If he was supposed to fulfill some sort of destiny with his lycanthropy, it didn’t matter now. He opened his eyes and tried to focus them on the brightest star he could find in the night sky. Silently he apologized to whoever may be involved for his failure. He figured it was the right thing to do before he passed, even though he had no idea how much longer he had. He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.


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"Be yourself to be free." - The Unseen
I <3 SMALLVILLE!!!

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#20 2008-01-24 13:08:47

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

It's really wonderful to hear you loved it, Punx! Still, don't spend all of your extra time reading my story - I'd rather you keep posting on yours (yes, for selfish reasons. I'm hooked on Werewolf in the Shadows!)
This next bit is simply a sneaky way of giving some background information about the world that this story takes place in. Big thanks to Niktoma for identifying that further back story on the world itself was needed. Even so, it's kind of bland, so feel free to skip it if you wish.

----------

  Being not too knowledgeable yet still curious about American History, Chris sat down at the terminal and began to read the document.

          History of Imperial events leading to Department 118
       
                        By Rachel Blackwood (possibly list the date?)

  America seceded from the British Empire and developed an empire of its own after the assassination of the original signers of the Declaration of Independence. During and after World War II, under the Rule of Emperor MacArthur, The Empire began heavily developing genetically engineered soldiers. This culminated with the Global Organic Rule Enforcers, or GORE; super-soldiers that were used as the main body of law enforcement on internal, national, and even international scales.

  It was only with the help of these soldiers that WWII was finally won in 1949. This diverted the heavy push by some officials to develop weapons out of nuclear research. As a result of the efficiency of the GORE, nuclear research was restricted to energy and technology. (Making a bit of a political statement aren’t you? What does this have to do with Dep:118?)
 
  Emperor Beagley was successful in gradually bringing down government after government by using the GORE, supplemented by other covert operations. A few governments were annexed, many volunteered, and some surrendered. By July 2012, over 98% of the entire Earth was under the rule of a single government: The American Empire.
 
  As a result of no need for arming themselves against or competing against foreign countries (You need to rephrase this first sentence), government spending turned toward the welfare of its citizens. Currency, measurements, transportation, record keeping, etc. were regulated to singular types. Processing as a whole was streamlined. Capitalist gains were also regulated. Any technological advancement in any country was spread to the rest of the world. Crime was lowered since the GORE were used to catch criminals, and the laws were strictly enforced. This caused many to resist at first, but the rewards far outweighed the cost.
 
  Many small communities gathered and refused to join the Empire. They were allowed to start ‘Isolation Colonies’ that cannot have any transactions with the Empire; they need to be completely and utterly self-sustaining. As of July, 2110, these colonies represent about .3% of the world's population. (Is this paragraph necessary?)
 
  The administration of most aspects of life began to take its toll on the all-encompassing Empire. Eventually, the Empire sanctioned certain aspects to different "departments" that were usually sub-contracted out to the highest bidder or the most qualified. The individuals who were entrusted with the running of a department were given the title "Overlord," And were given status equal or greater to Knights of the Empire.

Examples of certain departments:
Dep:5 – Law enforcement
Dep:8 – Housing and shelter
Dep:9 – Internal/Citizen financial affairs
Dep:12 – Language translation
Dep:22 – Business financial compensation or regulation
Dep:23 – Botany and reforestation
Dep:41 – Wild Animal preservation and encroachment
Dep:79 – Extra-terrestrial research and development, space travel
Dep:82 – Genetic research and development
Dep:118 – Unexplained phenomena
 
  Dep:118 has an unofficial motto declaring that they ‘explain the unexplainable.’ Any circumstances or events that cannot be identified or explained by other departments are forwarded over to Dep:118 for continued research and investigation. Subjects often addressed by Dep:118 include alleged sightings of supernatural, paranormal, or extra-terrestrial occurrences (including abductions), unregistered genetic mutations, spatial or temporal anomalies, sightings of legendary or mythological creatures, and extraordinary events or abilities. The extent of their investigations continues beyond the spectrum of these listed subjects.
 
  Dep:118 is currently run by Dr. Raymond Collins. Dr. Collins is an Imperially-registered scientist who received an external contract from Dep:82 for researching genetic mutations. Dr. Collins legally adopted a former intern of his, Jacob Trenton, who volunteered for a genetic research study and suffered extensive, untreatable mutation. He was legally registered as a genetic mutation, entitling him to Imperial assistance in living needs. Shortly after Jacob’s mutation Dep:118 was officially sanctioned, and Dr. Collins was placed in full charge of the department as Overlord. Jacob Trenton lost his Imperial funding in preference for taking a position in Dep:118 under Lord Collins’ supervision. (You spend a whole paragraph on Jake? You got a crush on him or something?)
 
  Since Dep:118 investigates anything that cannot be explained by other departments, they are considered a low-priority department. Most of their conclusions are considered laughable, or at least outlandish. However, many of their investigations have directly led to knowledge or development of technology or circumstances that have benefited the Empire. Further explanations or inquiries of these cases are restricted by the Office of the Emperor. Nearly all investigations of Dep:118 are currently listed as classified and confidential until deemed otherwise by the Office of the Emperor.
(Nice start, but you ramble a bit, dear. There is more info on Dep:118 if you know where to look. You could add it to replace that stuff about Isolation Colonies and the GORE. Stay on topic. Still, what you already have here is a nice start.)


  Chris looked at the report curiously. Department 118 investigates unexplained phenomenon. He thought about Julie, who could appear and disappear instantly. She wore clothing that was almost too white. She knew about werewolves. She said that she looked for people who were extremely lonely. That definitely sounded like an unexplainable phenomenon to him; maybe Dep:118 might know something about her. In fact, perhaps they know something about werewolves as well! It was possible that the person using this station before him, Rachel Blackwood, might be connected to Dep:118. If not, maybe she knows how to contact them.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#21 2008-01-30 13:59:50

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)


  It was about that time when Chris noticed someone had approached and was looking at him from over his shoulder. He turned and saw the person’s legs first, and then quickly made his way up to her face without spending any indecent time in between.

  “You like what you see?”

  She was rather attractive; slender with shoulder-length chestnut hair, a tanned complexion, and large brown eyes that wielded her confidence like a weapon. She wore a dark yellow shirt and black jeans with her low heels. She looked at Chris like she was annoyed with his presence, let alone his actions.     

  Out of courtesy, and perhaps out of surprise, Chris stood. “I’m sorry; it was on the screen and I just started reading it. I don’t know that much about history, so it kind of caught my eye…”

  His explanation trailed off and faded into silence. Her staring made him uneasy, but he could tell that there was no chemistry involved in it. When he reviewed the situation, he didn’t feel any chemistry himself, so it must have been her stare itself that set him on edge.

  “So,” Chris started again to change the awkward situation, “You must be Rachel Blackwood.”

  “No,” she replied summarily. “I’m a friend of hers. She wanted me to proofread her paper before she tries to get a job with Department 118.”

  Chris paused. Apparently the woman didn’t know much about Dep:118. He might have been able to get more information from Miss Blackwood about the department, but this woman acted more like an English Major who didn't necessarily know or care about the subject of the paper she was inspecting. Her demeanor was uncompromising at least, rude at worst. The normal thing for a person to do at this juncture would be to volunteer their name, but it seemed like this woman was deliberately waiting for him to ask for it.

  “Okay, then; can I ask your name?”

  “Shannon Steele.”

  Chris nodded. “My name’s Chris Hansen.”

  “Hi, Chris. Mind if I save that document and pull it so I can get out of your way?” Her response did little to hide that she was more of the opinion he was actually in her way.

  Chris raised his arms disarmingly and stepped aside. Shannon thanked him with a nod and began to save and pull the document. Chris respectfully looked a different way as she leaned over the chair to accomplish the task. She finished quickly, stood from the terminal and looked at Chris.

  “It’s all yours.”

  “Thanks,” Chris replied politely, “and, nice meeting you, Shannon.”

  Shannon stopped and refocused her attention to Chris. Her face suddenly softened and she held out her hand to him. “It was nice meeting you too, Chris. Thanks again for your discretion.”

  This time her statement was flavored with sincerity and appeal. Chris graciously took her hand and shook it. As he did, Shannon stared into his eyes. As soon as Chris began to feel uneasy about her stare, she stopped, and broke the handshake.

  “See you around,” Shannon bid him.

  Chris shrugged. “Maybe so; you never know,” he commented in response.

  A beautiful smile met Shannon’s face in agreement of his response, and then she turned and left. As she did, Chris shook off the strangeness of the meeting and sat back down at the terminal.

Last edited by Grayle (2008-02-01 13:53:54)


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#22 2008-01-31 02:51:27

punxnotdead
Member
From: Canada...eh?
Registered: 2006-05-09
Posts: 11300

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Hey, I just got caught up on two other posts before bed. I'm guessing she was an angel or something. It's great though...suspensful, too.
Can't wait to get fully caught up and see where Chris is headed next!


I'm an aspiring bodybuilder! smile
"Be yourself to be free." - The Unseen
I <3 SMALLVILLE!!!

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#23 2008-02-04 01:35:19

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Hang in there, Punx. I think the story might be getting a little slow, unfortunately.  Let me know what you think.
As to Julie being an angel, it's rather interesting you chose that conclusion, because
<EDITED FOR CONTENT>, as you'll see in this next segment. Enjoy!
----------

  Station fourteen had full access to ALAN, depending on the sanction of the person using it, of course. Chris opened up a search engine and began his search with the keywords ‘Julie,’ ‘white,’ and ‘ghost’. The top reference was about the Ghost of Julie White and reports of its sightings in a European mansion. That couldn’t be right. He continued with the same combination, replacing one of the words with other possibilities like rooftop, disappear, blond, and even werewolf. None of his inquiries were coming up with any viable information. It was not until he looked up ‘white,’ ‘angel,’ and ‘lonely’ that he found what he was looking for. 

  There were ten reports and references to a person called the Angel of Loneliness.

  Chris quickly marked most of the references and printed up the list. He retrieved it from the printer and then began with the first reference. Most of the references described a woman whose appearance would change but her clothing stayed the same: it was always pure white, practically glowing. Many reported that her clothing never seemed to get dirty. Several people testified that they were not only alone in presence when she appeared, but they were also feeling excessive loneliness. Some reported feeling suicidal. A few only caught a glimpse of her, but most claimed that they actually got to talk with her. The reports said that she would appear from nowhere and then listen and console the individuals, helping them cope with their loneliness. However, those reports did not coincide with the experience Chris had.

  Once he clicked on the eighth reference, the screen was filled with an alert window.

   
NOTICE: Your current study subject is listed as interpretive and unexplained. The subject is actively under investigation by Department 118 of the American Empire. Though further research on this subject is permitted, any personal experiences or formal investigations should be directed to Department 118 immediately.


  At first Chris was about to close the window, since he often times received a similar messages during his research into werewolves or lycanthropy. Yet this time, he stopped short when he noticed a difference in the nature of this one. He remembered that the other ones were also directing him to Department 118, but his further research would then be blocked. This time it was simply a suggested redirection. Apparently they were very animate about the subject of werewolves, while the subject of this Angel of Loneliness was not such a high priority. It was too bad that Rachel Blackwood wasn’t there so he could ask her a few questions. However, since she was only applying for a position, she probably didn’t know that much anyway.

  The thought suddenly returned to Chris that this department may very well have a lot more information about werewolves than he originally thought. They probably investigated any reports of werewolf sightings that they received, and maybe even found a confirmed werewolf or two. Perhaps if he worked for the department, he could quietly find out more about his kind. Of course, if they discovered him, they’d probably put him in a cell or a lab and put him through a whole bunch of terrible tests. Was it really worth the risk? Maybe it would be better if he got more information about the department itself first, and then made a decision.

  Chris closed the alert and was about to change his research subject to Dep:118 when he glanced up at the clock on the far wall. It was 3:05, which meant he had less than an hour to get over to the meet BW. As an afterthought, Chris noted that he should probably get used to calling him Phil. He grabbed his printout and his bundle of clothes, turned off the terminal, stood and made his way to the entrance. Department 118 would have to wait.

Last edited by Grayle (2008-02-04 11:07:32)


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#24 2008-02-05 18:13:18

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

This segment's a bit bland. For anyone who hasn't read my other stories, there's a few surprises in store after this segment.

  The Tollamek was sensible as well as comfortable; it was more of a middle-class hotel compared its big brothers a few blocks away. Though it was devoid of unique or outstanding fixtures, the symmetrical windows and balconies of the rooms gave the building identity as well as character. The front of the hotel offered a tall overhang at the front to accommodate vehicles, and even an entrance on top of the overhang to cater to airborne crafts. Even though it was not ritzy or well-to-do, Chris never dreamed that he would be meeting someone staying at a place like this. He was familiar with the low-end beds-for-rent in the other end of downtown, but this was pleasantly respectable compared to the latter.

  After a few moments, Chris felt he should probably stop staring, cross the street, and enter the building. He crossed when safe to do so and approached the large glass revolving doors of the entrance. They stood perhaps three or four meters tall, and the entire fixture spanned at least five meters in length. As Chris entered between two of the panels, they started to automatically swivel without his manual encouragement. He walked along with the revolving doors, exited the opening to the interior of the hotel, took a few more steps and scanned the open area that greeted him.

  The area boasted of many tall plants and small trees. Multiple waterfalls started from the third story and merged as they made their way down to the main floor. They culminated in one large waterfall, four meters tall, pouring into a pond populated with various types of fish. The pond was situated directly across from the entrance. The roar from the constant flow of water echoed off of the walls and was rather overwhelming. As he looked around, Chris noted that no one seemed to be in this open area of the hotel. A directory to the right offered the locations of the front desk, a lounge, a restaurant, and convention rooms. If this area was the lobby, Phil was not here. He looked at a clock on the wall, and the red digital numbers indicated that it was two minutes before four o’clock.

  Chris followed the directory’s guidance. He went through an archway to the right of the waterfall and emerged in a large open area. The middle of the floor sunk down two steps and created a small lounge, with nearly every table and bench occupied. This casual area was symmetrically surrounded by four elevators with glass casings. Along the right was the front desk. Chris found himself thinking that if this was a middle-class hotel, the high class ones must be downright decadent.

  He made his way to the front desk and found a young concierge with black curly hair and a well-fitting suit behind the counter. He had a bright smile, and his eyes took care not to make any judgments of those who approached. Chris explained he was looking for Phillip Alton, and the concierge confirmed that he was a guest. The concierge discovered that Phillip would be waiting in the restaurant. The concierge then assigned an even younger assistant to guide Chris to the proper location. The assistant accompanied Chris to the restaurant entrance, gestured to one of the eight occupants sitting at a table overlooking the lounge. Chris nodded in understanding and thanked the assistant, who then smiled and left.

  The person highlighted by the assistant was wearing simple blue jeans and a tan polo shirt along with black sneakers. He was clean-shaven, but his full head of dirty blond hair ran down beyond his shoulders and was loosely tied behind his nape. He had a quirky smile upon his face. His attention was acutely directed to an open magazine sitting on his table. Upon second glance Chris realized that it was not a magazine but a comic book that he was reading. That had to be Phillip.

  Chris grinned and slowly began to approach. After a few steps, Phil turned the page and looked up toward the entrance. As he caught sight of Chris, Phil’s eyes at first widened with inquisitiveness. When Chris broadened his smile, the inquiry in Phillip’s blue eyes was replaced with delight, and he also smiled broadly. Chris increased his pace as Phil rose from his seat and met him.

  “Mister Alton, I presume?” Chris greeted.

  Phillip laughed in response as he shook Chris’ hand with the utmost enthusiasm. “Oh, it’s so great to finally meet you face to face, Chris! Come and have a seat.”

Phillip returned to his chair as he gestured to the one opposite him. Chris accepted the offer. As he sat down, he took a closer look at the frames of the comic book that Phillip was reading. He recognized not only the art style, but the subject matter as well.

  “Is that the latest issue of BloodWing?” He asked as he inclined his head toward the book.

  Phillip shook his head. “Nah; it’s just issue fourteen, one of my favourites.”

  “Isn’t that the one where she goes up against the Buccaneers?”

  “Yep,” Phillip confirmed as he returned the book to its protective cover. “It has some of the best humor of the series in it. Lots of puns, too. I was going through it again in preparation for the movie next summer.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Chris declared at the sudden reminder. “I forgot all about that! I’ve had my focus on other things.”

  “What?” Phillip protested teasingly. “You know that they got Ava Townsend to play BloodWing, right? How could you have your focus on anything else?”

  “She’s mega-hot alright, but she’s out of my league.”

  “Well, I’m not saying you should try for a relationship or whatever. I doubt either of us would have a shot at her. But that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate her from afar,” Phillip replied with a predatory look in his pale blue eyes.

  For the slightest moment Chris found it surreal that he was conversing with this man that he met in person only seconds ago. He realized that this had to be the same person, as both his sentence structure and choice in literature testified. Chris had no alarms going off in his head; with the instinctive judge of character from his lupine nature, he’d know if this person was false. Therefore he concluded that he had no reason to doubt this man’s identity, but the ease of falling into a conversation as if they were long-lost friends was almost unreal.

  Chris shrugged. “Just a one-woman guy, I guess. And I’ve been kinda preoccupied lately anyway.”

  “Speaking of which,” Phillip continued, “How are you holding up?”

  Chris realized that Phillip was speaking about his wound. He thought for a moment, making a quick internal survey of his system. “It’s healing; I think the worst is over.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of injury is it?”

  “I kind of… punctured my side,” Chris said as he pointed to his right side. “I was jumping for something and missed, sort of.”

  Phillip grimaced with empathy, and then looked back at Chris with intensified scrutiny, almost to the point of suspicion. “A little bit of a daredevil, are we? Well, if your body needs to heal, it probably needs something to work with. And what do you know? Here we are, sitting in a restaurant. How about something to eat, my treat?”

  Chris looked around nervously. “Are you sure?”

  Phillip smiled. “Yep, I’m sure. Just consider this a business lunch, not a date. You’re not my type. Besides, I’m saving myself for Ava Townsend.”

  Chris eyed him. “Now, wait a minute; didn’t you just say…”

  Phillip raised his finger in contest. “Hey, you just said that you’re out of the running, so that increases my odds.”

  Chris dropped his shoulders, almost in shock at the absurdity of increasing million-to-one odds by one person. Phillip plainly could not be serious, could he?

  Phillip shrugged. “If you’re gonna dream, dream big; right?”

  “If you say so,” Chris said through his blurted laugh.

  Chris could not remove his smile. He felt at home, at peace, and even at a state of happiness in the company of Phillip. He had spent so much of his life on the defensive or alone, and this was so different from those times that it felt like another life entirely. At first, he started to feel like he didn’t deserve this, but that feeling was somehow cut off from developing, and was replaced by these foreign feelings of a positive nature. He wanted to keep this new life. He wanted friends and good times, and it felt like this was his chance to start.


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#25 2008-02-10 18:16:15

Grayle
Literary Lycanthrope
From: My Desk. Duh.
Registered: 2007-09-04
Posts: 2006
Website

Re: From the files of Department 118 - Part One (complete)

Here's some more in preparation for my absence for the next week (see my personal forum, Grayle's Den, for more details). Enjoy.
---------

  Phillip returned his reading material to its protective cover. He lifted a briefcase from beside him, opened it, and placed the comic book inside. After replacing the briefcase, both of them lifted their menus and began to peruse the choices offered. Phillip decided on a grilled chicken club sandwich. Chris was about to choose a Caesar salad, but Phillip chastised him for ordering something that he could tell was insufficient.
 
  “You strike me as more of a steak and burger kind of guy to me,” he deduced.
 
  After a few more seconds of nervous reluctance, Chris settled on a Philly cheese steak sandwich. Phillip suggested that he could add mayonnaise to it, therefore officially changing it to a ‘Phillip’ cheese steak. Chris smirked, but was not that much of a fan of mayonnaise, so he respectfully declined the suggestion.

  The waitress approached, and they ordered their meals. The conversation eventually navigated away from small talk and straddled the topics of current circumstances.

  “So, what do you do for a living, anyway?” Chris asked. “I mean, you said that you came to Romberg on assignment.”

  Phillip winced and turned his head to the side. Apparently this was not a casual subject for him.

  “I’m a researcher, basically. I came to Romberg to follow a lead. My boss thinks I might be able to make contact with someone that could be, um, helpful to our cause, I guess you could say.”

  Chris was somewhat confused at the evasive response. “Is it top secret or something?”

  Phillip smiled nervously. “Well, no, but it is a sensitive situation.”

  “Helpful to your cause,” Chris repeated thoughtfully as he peered at Phillip, who was avoiding eye contact. “Does this, by any chance, have something to do with the Howler?”

  Phillip immediately looked up and met Chris’ eyes. He stared at Chris for a moment, holding his breath, not willing to move. Whatever really brought Phillip to Romberg, the Howler was definitely involved. Phillip sighed nervously, took a pen from his pocket and grabbed a nearby napkin. He wrote a message on the napkin, folded it to conceal the message, and then held it up in front of Chris.

  “If you really want to know, you can read what’s on here. If you choose to read it, there’s no going back. It’ll change your life forever, believe me. If you don’t want your life to change, don’t read the message and we’ll continue as is, still good friends. If you choose to read it, you’ll be just as responsible for the knowledge as I am – maybe even more so. Still, the choice has to be yours.”

  With a slow but steady movement, Phillip placed the napkin on the table in front of him.

  Chris sat dumbfounded. He had just watched the person in front of him practically change into a different person before his eyes. The happy-go-lucky comic book and movie fan had transformed into a reclusive, mysterious stranger, and somehow the Howler was involved. Chris couldn’t help but wonder what it could be.

  Unexpectedly, a memory was brought to the forefront of his mind without his calling it. He remembered what Julie had said: that he would be learning more about his people very soon. Could this be what she was talking about? Was whatever Phillip had to offer related to more information about his kind? Chris thought about the current status of his life. It wasn’t like it turned out the way he wanted it to, and he didn't have anything to go back to either, except the streets.

  “Well,” Chris said with a nervous sigh, “I could use a change in my life, I guess.” Cautiously he reached for the napkin, picked it up, opened it and read the message.


  Your secrets are safe with me, as long as my secrets are safe with you.


  It was the exact phrase that Julie told him to remember.
 
  Immediately after reading the note, Chris looked at Phillip with wide eyes. Phillip wore an amiable expression, like he was afraid of the outcome.

  “Looks like I came to Romberg just to meet you after all.”


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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