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#151 2009-12-23 01:12:06

SilentStrider
Member
From: Michigan, Oscoda
Registered: 2008-09-10
Posts: 441

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

Great to see that you back Punx!
It's been a while, but I'm glad to see you still here.
When you get a chance I'd love to see what you think of my story so far and what tips you might have to offer.  I've missed reading your insightful comments too.  Hehe, I'm halfway caught up to you on the numbers of replies wink

For the record I'm still reading your story... and loving it!

Keep up the good work, Punx!  I look forward to your next installment.

Last edited by SilentStrider (2009-12-25 21:07:51)

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#152 2009-12-23 06:42:02

Edo
Member
From: from the very depths of
Registered: 2008-09-25
Posts: 51

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

I am! Still subscribed.

I too have missed your story, but I'll just be waiting patiently until you post the next section smile

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#153 2009-12-23 09:14:28

mrRW
Member
Registered: 2009-12-01
Posts: 127

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

I look out for updates to this story as well.

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#154 2009-12-23 13:23:03

lonewolf13
Member
From: a time long forgotten
Registered: 2009-06-12
Posts: 161

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

still awake. bearly
please postsoon.


"Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange. ...In those days, we really believed that to be the world's one, and only truth...."
    Alphonse Elric --- Fullmetal Alchemist

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#155 2009-12-23 16:18:54

clairsior818
Member
From: Florida, West Palm Beach
Registered: 2009-05-27
Posts: 99

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

Im still reading and thoroughly enjoying every one of stevens punch lines and all sour retorts and recollections of alexs!!
absolutely lovin it!!!
More soon!!!!!!!
PLEASE!!!!?????


"Life is weird, I am just trying to fit in." - Joshua Harper

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#156 2010-01-21 23:10:48

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

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

With complete justification, your fanbase stands resilient, weathering the passage of time unfaltered, committed, hanging on every word of your story - and rightfully so.
Write on, Punx; no matter when your circumstances permit, we'll be here.



Yes, I was being sincere - if a little verbose - but hey, I am the Literary Lycanthrope, after all...


To thy known wolf be true...


"Yay! We're Doomed!"  -- Gir

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#157 2010-03-07 07:55:48

KCat
Member
Registered: 2010-02-06
Posts: 36

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

*tosses in another vote for interest*

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#158 2010-03-30 12:47:19

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

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

It's been a while, so I'll just post as much as I can now while I have the chance. THanks, everyone who has followed this far!

Chapter 7
    The burning moonlight illuminated the streets ahead of him, allowing him to see the creature’s amber eyes and prominent facial features with ease.
    The arctic wind stirred the falling autumn laves, causing them to rustle noisily as they rolled idly across the street. All was silent besides the distant roar of traffic and Alex’s frantic pulse clamouring in his ears.
    Alex’s eyes were wide, stunned, as he gazed at the emerging creature. The fathomless molten orbs gazed back at him with frightening intelligence. However, he was unable to distinguish its expression from such a distance. Though it was sheathed in the shadows, he watched with awe as its massive yet delicate form appeared from behind the building.
   
A brilliant brown pelt clung to a mass of sinewy, lithe muscles and black, daunting talons protruded from its pawed fingertips.
    His breath was caught in his throat and he was unable to fully comprehend what was occurring. ‘It must be a dream,’ he assured himself, though he could hardly imagine such majestic beauty. No, nothing close could compare to the magnificence that rolled from its feminine features.
    Though it was relatively muscled, he could see the contours of its breasts visible beneath its thick pelt with a curved waist and wide hips, only slightly shorter than Alex’s werewolf form.
    Alex felt his fists clench and he dared not move, afraid to startle the beast that may very well be a figment of his hopeful delusions. It seemed as though time ceased to exist as he stared intently at the glorious creature that assessed him with wary eyes.
    Nonetheless, Steven, perplexed by Alex’s sudden fixation, abruptly stopped his monotonous recordings and gazed curiously in the same direction, though his eyes failed to see through the thick veil of darkness. “Do you see something?” He hollered and swept his flashlight on the location.
    Before the light could touch the beast, it rapidly disappeared in a whirl of fur. It ran so fast Alex had difficulty following its retreat behind the building.
   
His heart staggered and disappointment consumed him. “Stay here,” he instructed to Steven, releasing his flashlight and bolted forward.
    He ignored Steven’s bemused proclamations and darted toward the alley in which the werewolf had disappeared. He felt the cool air dishevel his hair and sting his eyes, yet he refused to relent. He waited until he was sheathed in darkness before propelling himself faster with supernatural speeds.
    His feet scarcely touched the ground as he followed the lingering scent through a complex sequence of twists and turns. He could barely hear the werewolf’s fleeing footfalls as his heart drowned out all other noises. His sole focus was on finding the creature.
   
He would have shifted to his werewolf form, but he could not risk it with Steven so near. It was too dangerous. Instead, he summoned every fibre of strength to continue his pursuit, his lungs and muscles failing to tire.
    With every turn, he saw that the beast was one corner ahead of him, so far from his grasp, yet close enough for him to see a fleeting glimpse of its massive body.
    This, he knew, would likely be his only opportunity to find others like him. But why was she running from him? Surely she could see that he was different?
    Undeterred, he persisted, the buildings flashing by him in a blur of colour. He could smell her thick perfume clinging to the air, invigorating.
    With every step he drew nearer, the werewolf would lunge forward in another explosion of surreptitious speed and manoeuvre with unparalleled swiftness.
    Without warning, the beast sprang through the air, taking a sharp left turn to exit the convoluted maze of buildings.
   
Alex followed, reaching the end of the alley a short moment later. He suddenly came to an abrupt halt as his bewildered gaze scoured the expansive street that stretched out before him. There were no buildings surrounding the other side of the street, only a vast clearing of fissured cement. And yet he saw no indication of the werewolf. He heard nothing but the tireless whistle of cold wind lashing the buildings. He smelled nothing but the residual fragrance that the beast had left in its wake.
    But the odour did not extend past the barrier of the alley. Disappointment twisted in his gut like a blunt knife. He listened and waited, testing the air and scouring the streets. Nothing. Nothing but complete emptiness, and soon he felt the empty sensation painfully creep into his chest. 
    His mind was spinning with thought and again, the urge to shift consumed him. He wanted to change form, desiring to find the one creature that might have the answers to the searing questions that frequently plagued his mind. Despite this, he abstained, silently cursing.
    He contemplated, trying to grasp one thought as it was curtly pushed aside by another. His mind swirled with fathomless notions and he remained in a stunned stupor.
   
Steven’s exhausted shouts sounded behind him, pounding against Alex’s eardrums. He heard his heavy and uncoordinated footfalls approaching.
    Steven was heavily panting as he reached Alex, his hands grasping his knees for support as he worked a stitch out of his side. He vigorously wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow, gasping for air.
    “How...the...hell...did...you...run...so...fast?” He gasped between ragged breaths.
   
“Adrenaline, I guess,” Alex responded, his voice flat, and his mind elsewhere. It took some time to rip himself from his musings as he revolved to face Steven, tying to keep the astonishment from his expression.
   
“What...did you see?” Steven questioned, still winded but regaining his composure.
   

He hopefully glanced back at the street and saw nothing, hearing nothing but the creaking of dead trees as they bowed to the relentless wind. He delayed his response before he turned to face Steven, his face neutral.
    “I saw nothing,” he lied, “I think it was just a dog.”
   
Steven muttered under his breath. “A dog? Are you sure?” He enquired with disappointment present in his voice.
    When Alex nodded again in conformation, Steven’s face creased with exasperation. “You mean you chased the bloody thing halfway across town, only to find out it was a dog?!”
   
Alex refused to meet Steven’s solemn brown eyes, knowing his friend would see through the deceit and eventually pry the truth from him. His expressions often betrayed his emotions and he cursed them vehemently. Instead, he averted his eyes to the ground, nodding again.
   
“Let’s go,” Alex ordered, dismissing the prickle of guilt he felt for lying to Steven. “It’s getting late and I don’t want to be tired for work in the morning.”
   
Steven sighed, looking displeased, giving Alex an unconvinced glance. “Damn it,” he muttered, kicking up a heap of fallen leaves.
                    ***


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

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#159 2010-03-30 12:51:05

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

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

Olivia’s paws thundered against the pavement, the sounds miniscule to the roaring of her heartbeat. Her lithe body bolted away from her pursuer, lunging to climb the two storey building. With haste, adrenaline and desperation to warn her pack propelled her from rooftop to rooftop until she was certain that her follower would no longer follow her.
    She had caught the two men’s scent from her hideout, the odour of the two humans unrecognizable to her. When she neared the vicinity, she had observed them collecting evidence, with the one man standing guard. At that precise moment, she knew exactly who they were. Crowell’s officers! A deep snarl accumulated in her chest, casing her fur to bristle.
    How the one man had seen her, she did not know, but she was certain that they were armed, prepared to shoot if given the opportunity. Because they had the advantage, she didn’t dare to kill them herself. No, she’d inform her pack first, conjuring a better fighting tactic.
   
She hoped, prayed, that they would not follow her, though she scrambled her scent by travelling amongst the rooftops.
    But why the man would pursue her without a hope of catching her, she did not know. She didn’t care. Her only goal was to warn the others of the imminent threat so close to their dwellings.
    She leapt from the rooftop onto the cement with feline grace, the rhythm of her hasty footfalls remained unfaltering.
    When she was certain that she was safe, she slowed her pace to gather her bearings and continued toward an expansive clearing. Few buildings surrounded the entrance to the underground tunnelling, which was their only refuge from Crowell’s army. Once it was discovered, they’d have no means of protection from the relentless force acting upon them, she thought with disrepute. If the day ever occurred, she’d fight until her life was extinguished because she cared more for her pack’s safety than her own.
    She stopped at the entrance, which was plated with a circular metal grate. She grasped it with her massive paws, prying it off with ease as she lunged inside.
   
She landed fifteen feet down into pool of rancid water, submerging her paws beneath the icy water. She grunted in displeasure and commenced forward, her shoulders grazing the narrow brick walls that surrounded the tunnel. To ease her path through the tunnels, she began the transition to her human state.
    Her thick pelt of glossy, auburn fur disappeared within her dark human flesh. Her elongated bones and amplified muscles writhed and popped, causing an odd sensation to ripple through her body. It wasn’t painful, nor was it particularly comfortable, but decades of refinements allowed her state to alter with greater ease and swiftness.
   
Scythe-like talons and dagger-sized teeth were replaced with normal human features. Within moments, she stood as a naked woman, her dark skin reflecting the glimmer of torchlight along the circular walls.
    She hurried down the long tunnel towards the vast room beyond, urgency prompting her limbs to move faster. She could feel her brown tresses caress her shoulder blades as she continued onward, unhindered by the frigid cold that engulfed her surroundings.
    She was determined to warn her pack before the vermin appeared at their hideout. For over eleven years they had been persecuted by Crowell’s soldiers, hunted as if game to a trophy hunter. Crowell hired the hunters, who, in turn, captured her kin, killing some, while forcing the remaining into cruel tests for the Codoxin before being killed.
    Many from her pack had been captured, their numbers decimating, plunging dangerously.  Her delicate features flushed with fury at the consideration, knowing that the hunters were beginning to advance their technology. Instead of silver bullets, they used specially crafted tranquilizer darts to drop even the largest werewolf.
    She loped onward and spotted a glimmer of light ahead, which gave way to an expansive rounded room decorated elegantly with some art and lined with torches in a meagre attempt to rid of the putrid odours that crept through the walls or the gummy moss that coated the cracking bricks.
    She entered the room without hesitation, unconcerned by her present naked form, seeing the massive congregation of her kin sitting at a large wooden table.
   
Gregory, Martina, and Lottamay stood in front of the congregation of young werewolves, advising them of their impending attack.
    Martina was speaking to the crowd, her platinum hair a reflection of the stunning beauty she possessed. “Take heed when attacking,” she addressed the group, her brilliant sapphire eyes flickering amongst the engrossed group. “They have strong weapons and skills...” she stopped mid-sentence as she glanced at Olivia’s approach.
   
Though her face remained as warm as ever, her voice was marred with disappointment. “Where have you been?” She enquired. “Our meeting began ten minutes ago.”
   
Olivia inhaled, her expression revealing her concern. “We have a problem,” she informed the three elders.
    The congregation of werewolves muttered amongst one another, worry ebbing into their young faces.
    Martina hushed the buzzing crowd, her inquisitive gaze flickering to Olivia. “What has happened?”
    Olivia remained calm, steadying her scurrying heart at the thought of what she saw. “I found two men at the crime scene – where we last attacked – and I think they work for Crowell.”
   
The uproar of murmuring and snarling once again hummed through the crowd of werewolves, all fearful, angry and inquisitive.
    Gregory, a tall handsome man emerged from the group of elders, his chiselled features tarnished with unease. “Have you killed them yet?” His deep, controlled voice reverberated off of the tunnel walls.
    Olivia’s sombre face grimaced and she shook her head. “No. I was being pursued by one of them. I didn’t want to take the risk...” she trailed off.
    Gregory’s silver eyes flashed with concern, though he hid it well. His jaw muscle leapt slightly as he pressed on. “Did they follow you here?”
   
“I ensured I lost them before returning,” she verified. “I would never have returned if that wasn’t the case.”
   
Gregory nodded his head in understanding, his massive shoulders relaxing. He grazed his fingers over his cropped hair. “Did you recognize any of their scents?”
   
When she shook her head again, Gregory revolved to face the rest of the pack, overlooking all of the faces staring back at him. Some were young, orphaned, while others were older, all drawn together by Crowell’s oppressive force.
   
Gregory’s young, perturbed face was grave. “We need to find these men as soon as possible. They were found too close to our hideout. If they discover where we are, our fate will be grim.” The last words rang through the silent room, an ominous reminder of what they were avoiding.
   
Martina, the oldest by centuries, interjected. “Because they know that one of us has spotted them, they’ll be gone by now. There’s no need to assemble a search party and draw more unnecessary attention to ourselves. And if it is a soldier of Crowell’s, we can have our informant find them.” Being the oldest, wisest of the pack, her words were undisputed.
   
Martina straightened her posture, revealing her tall stature, which complimented her lithe, muscled body and nondescript clothes. The only flaw in her pale complexion was a puckered white scare descending the left half of her face, and her blind glazed eye. No one knew the cause of the scar, and none dared to press the issue.
    Her smooth voice continued in the deafening silence. “We’ll wait until sunrise and then decide when it’s best to act. If we proceed too hastily, the outcome could be unfavourable.”
   

The congregation silently mulled it over and then nodded in concurrence. Gregory commenced with their initial subject, situating himself at the front of the table. Of all those present, Gregory was the most intelligent strategic fighter. He could plan attacks and execute them perfectly, as he had, in previous decades, led battles and fought in them.
    Olivia robed herself before joining the congregation, seating herself as well. Though she was nearly two hundred years old, she refused to join the leader’s ranks. Never had she considered herself capable of leading others.
   
Gregory composed himself over a heap of maps and databases. His intense gaze swept across the room. “We’re planning to commence with another attack next Tuesday. It will give us plenty time’s preparation. I want all of you,” his eyes fixed on Jason, “to do your best to ensure no fatalities occur. Any loss at this point is a substantial one. Now that I’ve recruited someone with the resources to obtain Crowell’s shipment dates, our attacks will be more frequent.”
    Lottamay, a vampiress, rose fluidly to her feet. Her blazing scarlet eyes scoured the room. “Because I know where the brigade of Crowell’s soldiers will be, we can intercept their equipment and perhaps any kin captured by Crowell. I’ll slaughter a few of his men,” her eyes flared with insatiable thirst at the consideration, “and keep one alive as a warning to Crowell.”
   
A curtain of dark silky hair cascaded down her pale shoulders as she smiled, revealing elongated canines. Her black leathery wings twitched from their folded position as a malevolent gleam glimmered in her eyes.
    Gregory nodded and began assembling people into groups to further prepare themselves for the attack. “Olivia, Kayla, Shaun and Lottamay, you will be paired together. You will commence your attack after Martina and I have struck first.”
   
His liquid silver eyes swept across the room, deciding who to pair together. His dark brows furrowed in contemplation. “Daren, Bailey, and Sharon will follow Olivia.”
   
Olivia grumbled inwardly, repulsed by the thought of herself leading a group of young teenagers. She was not fit for such a task, she knew, though Gregory seemed to believe so. He had been prompting her to attain more responsibility, as she well exceeded the age limit. However, old or not, she knew she was not ready.
   
Daren, a dark skinned man, craned his neck to glance at the other side of the table, his eyes half-obscured by heavy eyelids. He wearily nodded and folded his long fingers together.
   
Jason’s honey orbs flickered onto Gregory, agitated. “What about me?”
   

Gregory’s eyes flashed to him, his voice controlled. “You will be look out to oversee any potential shift in plans.”
   
Jason’s dark eyebrows furrowed, his sunken features marred with anger. His hand swept violently through the air. “I’m older and much more experienced than the rest sitting at this table. Why have you condoned me to lookout? Do you not know that I can do much better than that?” He snarled, flashing his lengthening teeth.
   
Gregory replied without indication of irritation, though his deep voice was thick with authority. “It may be wiser to teach the less experienced so they can learn how to accomplish such attacks.”
   
Jason’s face was twisted with anger and his fists clenched at his side. “What you’re asking...” his amplifying voice was interrupted by Gregory’s thunderous reply.
   
“What I’m asking you is to shut up and sit down. Would you rather be exempt from this meeting, or do you wish to stay?” Though his features were composed, agitation was evident in his voice.
   
Jason’s mouth slammed shut with an audible click and he dejectedly sat himself down. Though he complied, his venomous gaze was fixated on Gregory.
   
Olivia knew the reason for Gregory’s decision. Jason joined the pack fifteen years ago when he was being pursued by Crowell. Though he spoke little of his past, Olivia always knew it was a dark one. She could sense the glimmer of depravity in Jason’s demeanour – the way he talked about humans.
    Gregory, she knew, was right not to put his trust in Jason.
   
Gregory continued as if no disturbance occurred. “Olivia, if you see those two men again, don’t hesitate to kill them. That goes for all of you,” his eyes scrutinized the group. “I refused to allow my pack to be subjected to any more of Crowell’s cruelty.” His eyes blazed with fury at the name and everyone within the room shuddered.
    Olivia nodded and seated herself next to Jason to begin their attack strategies.


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

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#160 2010-03-30 16:52:39

lonewolf13
Member
From: a time long forgotten
Registered: 2009-06-12
Posts: 161

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

punx your back in action baby. glad to see you are still alive. great segment by the way. hope to get more soon.
smile


"Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange. ...In those days, we really believed that to be the world's one, and only truth...."
    Alphonse Elric --- Fullmetal Alchemist

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#161 2010-04-03 00:25:01

clairsior818
Member
From: Florida, West Palm Beach
Registered: 2009-05-27
Posts: 99

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

woo!! great section! more please?????????????????????????????????????????


"Life is weird, I am just trying to fit in." - Joshua Harper

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#162 2010-04-03 05:20:42

SilentStrider
Member
From: Michigan, Oscoda
Registered: 2008-09-10
Posts: 441

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

I read your newest segment the night you posted it, but I haven't gotten around to adding a comment yet.  I waited because I wanted to have something constructive to say, but I'm still pressed for time and couldn't think of anything else to add to this already fantastic story other than please continue writing.  As I said before you have a great talent and we are all truly lucky to have you sharing it with us here at the cafe.  Thank you, Punx!

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#163 2010-04-08 14:16:19

clairsior818
Member
From: Florida, West Palm Beach
Registered: 2009-05-27
Posts: 99

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

may i ask, as i have not seen it so far in the story, where is the setting, the city i mean?
what is it's name?

Last edited by clairsior818 (2010-04-08 14:16:58)


"Life is weird, I am just trying to fit in." - Joshua Harper

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#164 2010-04-22 18:59:20

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

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

Thanks, guys smile And no, there's no particular name to the city. I just kind of made it up out of my head to fit with the plot. If it HAD to be a city, it would be kindda like Edmonton, with very little sunlight, cold alot and quite ramshackle.

Anywho, here's another little snippet. Thanks for everyone who's following along!!!

Chapter 8
    Alex arrived at his condo by midnight. The ride home had been considerably painful as Steven relentlessly barraged him with questions. Alex hated lying to his friend and was grateful that the car was submerged in darkness. That way, Steven couldn’t read the lie on his face as he knew it showed.
    He turned on his television, hoping to catch some news about the recent attacks, but finding nothing. He turned away from it, hoping once he settled his anxiety, he would watch some comedies. He needed something to lighten his mood and keep his mind occupied.
    Alex sighed wearily, his head still spinning with questions. His feet shuffled idly to his bedroom as the images flashed in front of his mind.
    Why did the werewolf flee? He loosened his tie from around his throat.
Did she not see that he was different? He flipped off his shoes.
Could she not smell him? He removed his shirt and pants, dejectedly slumping into his bed.
    He clicked off the lamp on his bedside table and crawled beneath the sheets of his bed, his cat curled against him at the base of his neck, purring contently as he stroked it. Though the room was plunged into darkness, the pallid moonlight pierced his window, a shining reminder of what he had seen.
    Hours elapsed as he gazed vacantly at the ceiling, pondering, hopeful. His window was slightly ajar, allowing the chilly breeze to tickle his bare chest. However, the cool air soothed him and soon he lulled off to sleep.
    Two amber eyes blazed behind a dark, majestic face. White teeth flashed in a glorious grin. Lush fur bristled with fury, the blinding moonlight illuminating its flawless features.
    Alex continued to gaze at the creature, and he knew he was dreaming as the wind ceased to exist and his surroundings were bleak, black. Only the moon loomed above, caressing his skin.
    His eyes continued to stare transfixed at the revolted beast. His chest remained tight with uncertainty whether to approach the beast and watch it flee. His head cocked to the side as the two blazing molten pools burned into him and he was perplexed as to why such a creature would be repulsed by him. Did she not know? Certainly she would.
    Alex could smell the sweet spice emanating from her delicate, yet large frame. His muscles burned with white hot desire, fuelled by the pleasing aroma and he wished to reach out and stroke the creature. Though his mind warned him, he stretched out his hand, hoping to graze his fingers along the soft fur. Instead, his hand passed through the air, touching nothing.
    Mystified, he approached the beast, his heart unexpectedly lurching in his chest as he neared the magnificent creature.
    Though a guttural snarl ripped from the beast’s throat, it maintained its feline grace as it bolted away.
    Alex gasped and pursued the fleeing beast, the blackness pressing in around him. He called out, but his own voice reverberated back at him. He watched with horror as the beast gracefully loped away, farther and farther from Alex.
    And yet Alex could make his feet move no faster. It felt as though a river of water was weighing him down, preventing him from reaching what he so desired. He extended his hand to the creature, but it did not turn. It did not acknowledge his actions, for it kept running, its massive body growing smaller and smaller. 
    Alex called out again, but he was ripped from his reverie as his limbs flailed in his bed. His eyes flew open and his shrieks were muffled by his smothering pillow.
    Alex ceased his struggles as realization settled on him. It had only been a dream, he assured himself as he wearily lifted his head from his torn pillow. He felt feathers tickling at the corner of his mouth and wiped them hastily with the back of his arm.
    His sheets were firmly intertwined around his body and he struggled and grunted as he unravelled himself from the chaos.
    He sat himself on the edge of his bed, his one hand clutching the sheets for support while he combed his other hand through his awry hair. He tried to calm the wild hammering of his heart and steady his sporadic breathing.
    A cold sheen of sweat layered his forehead as he regained his composure. His emerald eyes flickered around the room. Through his drapes, he could see a faint glimmer of sunlight on the dreary horizon, indicating that it was still early morning. He sighed a breath of relief, but as he glanced at the remnants of his bed, he groaned. The pillows were torn, and the wooden headboard was scored with thick gashes and splinters.
    His eyes averted to his hands, which were now human, and he cursed.
Ginger approached him from behind, her smooth fur brushing along his bare skin, diffusing his agitation. He stroked her gently, grateful for her soothing influence and watched as she leapt from the bed, exiting to the living room.
    Alex furrowed his brows as indistinct voices hummed throughout his apartment complex, arousing his curiosity. He warily got to his feet, ignoring the sleep deprivation and strode towards the source of the buzzing conversation.
    As he glanced at the television he had forgotten to turn off, his stomach roiled and a cold trail rippled down his spine.
    Cold blue eyes leapt from the screen and a wicked smile curled on a handsomely sculpted face.
    “Crowell,” Alex snarled, a sudden wave of anger engulfing him. He ambled towards the television, catching the last remnants of the news. He grabbed the volume control and heard it moan as the plastic began to splinter.
    The perfect face remained nearly untouched by the hand of age as the familiar face was displayed on the television. Besides a few additional wrinkles between his brows, there appeared no other noticeable changes. Only when Alex glanced deeper at his features did he see the flame of depravity flickering beneath the surface.
    His short straw blonde hair was spiked in a similar fashion. He scarcely needed the make-up crew as his features remained unmarred. The black suede attire was professionally tailored and his expensive leather shoes shimmered from the backstage lighting.    
    The memories from his past came rolling back up to him, a vivid nightmare that clawed at his festering anger. His golden eyes were now fixed on the television screen and Crowell’s false smile.
    Alex’s eyes scanned the top of the screen, which read, Codoxin.
    Although the program was nearly at its conclusion, he was able to catch the last few minutes. An older female reporter with greying blond hair, a pencil skirt, and formal white blouse spoke to the camera. “The performance enhancer drug will be available within the next few months for testing.” A wide smiled stretched on her face, accenting her eyes, which resembled pools of muddy water.
    She turned her attention back to Crowell, her false smile receding. “You haven’t revealed yourself in the media in the past few years. Why have you decided to make such an impromptu return?”
    Crowell folded his hands together and replied smoothly, his voice velvet. “I had no intentions of stirring the waters until I was certain that the drug was fit for human testing. And now I want to circulate as much awareness as possible.”
    The reporter nodded and smiled, though her curiosity was evident in the way her eyes thirsted for answers. She continued her questions in her pleasant sing-song voice. “Rumours have it that you’ve already used this drug on an unidentified subject. Is this true?”
    Alex probed Crowell’s reaction and detected a faint flicker of uncertainty flash in his eyes, but dissipated before being noticeable. His answer was generic. “I’m not sure where you’ve received your information from – but no, we have not conducted any human tests thus far.” Though his hands were still folded in his lap, Alex saw them rigid and slightly clenched.
    The reporter nodded again, intent on cramming in her questions before the show ended. She fired another enquiry. “What about the unmarked vans transporting unknown substances around the city in the dead of night? Do you have something to hide?” 
    Crowell’s jaw muscle leapt and his eyes were beginning to burn with an icy rage. His face was flushing with colour. However, he complied to answer the question, a slight flare of vehemence in his words. It was clear the conversation was headed in an undesirable direction. “It seems we’ve had some recent vandals targeting my company, for reasons unknown to me. For the safety of my staff I think it’s wiser to use unmarked vehicles at night, and by doing so, the attacks become less frequent.”
    He interrupted the reporter before she could fire her next question with his smooth, liquid voice. “I assure you, the supplies in the vehicle are equipment for my scientists and doctors,” he lied, forcing a satisfied smile at the camera, though his eyes blazed with a passion that only Alex was familiar with.
    The woman, taken aback by his overpowering presence, cleared her throat and revolved back to the camera, obviously forgetting the argument she had fabricated. “That’s all for this addition of NewsWatch. Please join us next time to discuss the epidemic sweeping Europe and the recent food shortages. Thank you for joining us, Mr. Crowell.” Though she smiled her appreciation, Alex could detect the anxiety in her demeanour.
    “My pleasure,” Crowell crooned as he got to his feet to make his way off stage.
    Alex growled as the show concluded and continued to leer at the blank screen long after the program ended. He relinquished his grip on the control, feeling the numbness tingle in his fingers and the heat plume through his muscles. His eyes continued to gaze in front of him, unblinking.
    His garbled curses were choked out from the bile mounting in his chest. He felt it cloud the corners of his vision and he violently tore his gaze from the television to prevent the beast from further encroaching on his mind.
    He got to his feet, feeling his tense muscles clenching in his shoulders. He exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he turned his back from the television, trying to grasp the full extent of his predicament.
    Through the bitterness that plagued him, one notion crossed his mind. Kill him. The word was conjured in both Alex’s mind and the beast’s. He could feel it clawing at him, always present in every conscious decision. The notion, however, was quickly discarded. He knew he would be unable to kill Crowell, though every fibre of his being desired to.
    Though he was certain he could get away unnoticed from murder under his lycanthrope disguise, he did not want to lose control again. If he did in such magnitude, he knew he’d end up apprehended by police and sent to prison. All he had worked to attain – to rebuild from his previously shattered life would be extinguished. As a hollow knot settled in his stomach, he knew he had an obligation to ensure no one else be affected by the drug, or enticed by Crowell’s lies, as he had been. But what could he do?
    His mind, growing weary with thought of all that had occurred, spun. He sighed, retiring his thoughts momentarily and strode to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. Though his stomach was clenched in a tight knot, he forced down cold pizza and took a swig from the milk carton.
    As he tried to recollect his disgruntled thoughts, he glanced over at the sink, groaning. He was nearly late for work.
    He cursed audibly as he hastily gathered his bills and car keys. His car tires squealed as the car exploded from its previously immobile state.  He ignored his dishevelled hair and awry attire as he entered the workplace. The dull eyes that flitted by were focused on cell phones, work papers, or gazing vacantly in the distance.
    During work, he felt the compelling urge to continue his further investigation on the werewolf he had seen. Even the thought of it caused a wriggle of excitement in his gut and he could not help but drum his fingers impatiently on his desk.
    Several times he reached for his computer’s keyboard to continue his assessment, but every attempt was foiled. Curious passers stopped to greet Alex, commenting on the cold, dreary day or relationship problems. All he could do for the time being was bury himself in his work and hope his ceaseless thoughts would smother. He could hope for no such luck.
    Steven slyly popped his head around Alex’s cubicle, though Alex could hear his approach. Steven crept up beside Alex, folding his arms over his chest. “Did you see the news this morning about that new...Cod...something?” His face contorted as he tried vainly to remember.
    Alex cocked a brow in mild amusement. “Codoxin?” He finished for him, though the name caused a flare of anger to swell in his gut. “Yeah, I did.” He admitted and failed to keep the restraint from his voice.
    Steven was too oblivious to notice Alex’s anxious demeanour and questioned casually. “What do you think about those attacks?” His dark eyes fixed on Alex.
    “What about them?” Alex enquired, shrugging.
    He inclined his head a bit and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I think it’s a conspiracy so Crowell can gain recognition for his drug. Or maybe he has something to hide – like a secret agenda.”
    Alex sighed, coming to the worst deduction. He knew once Steven began his theories, he wouldn’t drop it until he either lost interest or came to a dead end. “Conspiracy theories? Remember...” He was interrupted mid-sentence.
    “I know, I know,” Steven argued, “but this one’s different. I have a gut feeling about this one. There’s something...suspicious about Crowell – the way he talks about it. It just seems like he has something to hide.” His voice amplified to drown out Alex’s retort. “I think there’s something in those trucks he doesn’t want anyone else to know about.” His face was now solemn and Alex was certain that distractions would not deter him, not now. It was ironic, he noted, at which direction the subject had taken. Alex knew, for certain, that Crowell had something to hide. Perhaps he knew this fact more than anyone else in the city and Steven’s intuition had picked it up.
    “It’s probably not as bad as you think it is.” Alex reasoned, returning the glance and hoped it was convincing.
    “So you agree with me?” Steven enquired, shifting from foot to foot.
    Alex shook his head. “No, I don’t. But what I mean is he may have something to hide, but it’s probably nothing to worry about. Don’t waste your time on it.” Alex sincerely hoped that his feeble argument would convince Steven. He wished that Steven knew how dangerous Crowell was – how easily he could ruin one’s life. He was willing to achieve any monstrosity to ensure it benefited himself.
    When Steven continued to disagree, showing no signs of relenting, Alex replied in a hoarse, desperate voice. “Please, don’t look into it. You don’t want to get on Crowell’s bad side. He’s dangerous.” Though he regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, he knew they had to be said.
    Steven huffed impatiently, his pale face blossoming with colour as he tried to convince Alex. “Come on,” he complained. “I remember when we use to work together on these sorts of things. Isn’t it worth a try?”
    Alex sighed and the words slipped out before he could stop himself. “No thanks, I don’t feel like getting myself killed.” He knew his expression was convincing, as Steven’s face drained of its colour and he grimaced in perplexity.
    “What do you mean?” Steven whispered, but was cut short as a haughty voice rang from behind them.
    The husky voice issued from a corpulent, middle aged man. “Mr. Hansen,” he barked, his thunderous holler causing Steven to jerk. “Get back to work! What do you think I’m paying you for?” Archer’s black eyes exuded his disapproval.
    Steven’s face went rigid and his eyes were agape as he revolved to face his boss. He combed his short black hair from his forehead and nodded once, unable to speak. He gave an uneasy sidelong glance at Alex in his silent departure.
    Archer’s coal black eyes fixed on Alex and he appeared to be conflicted whether to shout or not. With a warning stare and a nod of his wide head, he sauntered off, continuing his scolding on Steven.
    Alex resumed his work without word, inwardly grinning as he heard Archer, his boss, vehemently reprimanding Steven. Alex’s keen hearing detected Archer’s voice amongst the people conversing on their phones and the clacking of keys from across the office area.
    His unmistakably gruff voice resounded around the office, though undetectable to mere humans. “Word of mouth has it that you’ve been spending a lot of time at Mr. Millar’s office. I don’t want you out of your cubicle until twelve PM this morning for lunch. I don’t care about the excuse, but the next time I see you avoiding your job, I’ll find someone else who can do it better.”
    Alex heard Steven’s muddled apologies and Archer’s harsh replies, visualizing Archer’s sausage-like finger pointed accusingly at Steven.
     He reminisced about how Steven had acquired him the job, as his father and Archer had been business partners. It was only sheer luck that Alex attained his job, though it was far from what one might consider ideal. The pay was good, but that was it. 
    As time lagged on, his eyes flickered impatiently from his paper work to his watch. The minutes seemed to pass with excruciating slowness. His growing agitation caused him to hastily finish any remaining paperwork, leaving nothing else to do but browse the internet for more information. But he was no longer keenly interested in the werewolf. It was Codoxin and how the werewolves played into the equation.
    He glanced warily behind him to ensure no one would oversee his studies or Archer’s disapproved gaze. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched for any information on the drug.
He discovered an official website and began his research, continuing to peer over his shoulder at frequent intervals so Archer would not see him. His eager eyes swept along the page, reading Crowell’s biography. He first wanted faint insight on Crowell’s psyche and past.
    He read the lengthy document. Crowell had been an A student, winning first prize in a science exhibit in his senior year of school. He was twenty three when he created his first company, which blossomed into the world’s most renowned research facility in the world. He had created cutting-edge drugs, equipment and ideas. After a few short years he had created numerous companies, expanding his already booming empire.
    The information came as little shock to him. He knew of Crowell’s capabilities. What caught him off guard was how Crowell had saved hundreds of lives through his work. His actions did not seem to fit the portrayal that Alex had of him. He knew Crowell only as a deceptive, manipulative man and not as he was conveyed through the website.
    Slightly discouraged, he continued to scroll through, hoping something would give him the answers he sought. Only he wasn’t prepared for what he’d discover.
    Crowell married at age twenty six to an accountant. He had two daughters named Sandra and Star. Crowell sold his company to a foreign buyer so he could spend more time with his daughters.
    Alex felt an uneasy lurch in his stomach as he read the next sentence. “Sadly, Crowell’s wife and daughters were killed. Sandra was eight and Star was five.’ His eyes wandered from the page, deep in contemplation. His brows furrowed at the sudden realization, surmising the cause of their death. ‘Crowell killed them.’
    However, his misguided musings were interrupted as a banner suddenly flashed on the screen. A window popped up and Alex sighed, tempted to exit the small screen. His arrow froze as a bold headline captured his attention.
    Man found alive after family brutally murdered by unknown animal
    Alex scrutinized the fine print beneath the headline, realizing it was dated nearly fifteen years ago. Perplexed, Alex read on.
    Tom Crowell, founder of Crowell Industries, was discovered Sunday night after three brutal murders occurred at his house on a small acreage outside of the city. Mr. Crowell had sold two of his companies to sustain wealth for his family in the event of his death.
    Through several medical advancements, Crowell has gained a significant reputation amongst the scientific community.
    The three bodies of his wife and two children were found viscously mauled by an unidentified animal, or serial killer. Autopsies on the bodies revealed that the lacerations to the victims are unfamiliar to any known animal. Because the wounds are so foreign to doctors, the killer has yet to be found.
    Crowell was discovered outside of his house after police was dispatched. When they arrived, they found a distraught Crowell cradling the bodies of his family, weeping and...
    Alex hastily clicked off the computer screen, a lump swelling in his throat. He refused to read the next paragraph as it would only make him feel like more of a monster. He growled and slammed his paperwork on his desk, his cupped hands obscuring his scowling face.
    Realization flooded through him. He knew now why Crowell and the werewolves were interconnected. They were at war.
    He brushed aside his hair and exhaled sharply, his gut squirming. Now that he, too, was a lycanthrope, he felt a pang of responsibility for their deaths. Though the murders had taken place several years before he was affected by the serum, he was disgruntled to know that his kin had been responsible for such an atrocious act.
    Were they all merciless killers? Was he now predisposed to being a murderer? He shook the vile thoughts from his head, resuming what little work remained. He drew each paper out as long as possible before beginning another one, hoping to pass the time.
    It wasn’t until the unison of clacking keys ceased and the steady trickle of exiting people that Alex was hurled back into reality. He tore his vacant gaze from his papers, clicked off his lamp, and headed for the elevator. He was in for a long night.


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

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#165 2010-04-23 04:30:39

lonewolf13
Member
From: a time long forgotten
Registered: 2009-06-12
Posts: 161

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

nice job. glad to see that you are alive and well. can't wait for the next segment.
smile


"Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange. ...In those days, we really believed that to be the world's one, and only truth...."
    Alphonse Elric --- Fullmetal Alchemist

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#166 2010-05-02 17:31:10

clairsior818
Member
From: Florida, West Palm Beach
Registered: 2009-05-27
Posts: 99

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

I realy enjoyed this segment, punx, and so did my family, my mother and sisters are of the opinion that you should take your story and basically tie alex into the story written by silenstrider, which I am also reading. it would be an interesting and fun idea to play with, you should check it out.


"Life is weird, I am just trying to fit in." - Joshua Harper

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#167 2010-05-02 18:57:40

SilentStrider
Member
From: Michigan, Oscoda
Registered: 2008-09-10
Posts: 441

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

Hehehe... that would be kinda fun smile  Not sure how it would work, though it is an entertaining thought

Last edited by SilentStrider (2010-05-02 18:57:56)

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#168 2010-05-03 08:13:32

clairsior818
Member
From: Florida, West Palm Beach
Registered: 2009-05-27
Posts: 99

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

hmmm.... you could make it so that crowell is using dna from true werewolves and vampires in his codoxin, that way, you could have something small, like alex walks into the diner where sean is working and sean has to take his order. making each character oblivious to the others hidden selves, or maybe even make it so that sean was the one that had his dna taken by crowell and put in the particular serum given to alex, therefore tying the series in a small way. you could also make it correspond to each others stories so that each of you is writing what happens when the characters meet, from the individual points of view of your two characters, in other words alex tells about it from his point of view, and sean talks about it from his. i think it would be funny.

Last edited by clairsior818 (2010-05-03 08:14:52)


"Life is weird, I am just trying to fit in." - Joshua Harper

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#169 2010-08-08 02:21:27

clairsior818
Member
From: Florida, West Palm Beach
Registered: 2009-05-27
Posts: 99

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

its been a long time since anyone posted so i figured i would...


"Life is weird, I am just trying to fit in." - Joshua Harper

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#170 2010-08-14 04:46:23

SilentStrider
Member
From: Michigan, Oscoda
Registered: 2008-09-10
Posts: 441

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

Heya Clair!  I gave the current line up of posts a quick glance and saw that Punx's tale had gotten a refresher and it was back near the top, so naturally I had to click on it to see what was new.  I was hoping to see our favorite bodybuilder had included some more of her epic tale, but alas, it was not to be.  However, it's always good to see that she still has a few loyal readers present still.

I have been fortunate enough to have touched base with her briefly via emails, and I can vouch that she has been working a lot of hours and is about to take that big first step into college.  She hardly has much personal time to herself these days and when she does I'm guessing it's often spent on catching up on lost sleep.  The most important bit of info I need to share with you all is that she is still working on the story and has added more to it, but she just hasn't posted anything yet.  Be kind and patient and I'm sure we'll see her back here again soon, and an occasional post of encouragement from us once in a while would probably do wonders too.

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#171 2010-10-08 00:46:32

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

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

I am soooooo sorry guys. So, so sorry! Working 2 jobs, moving away and finding out my mum has cancer has brought EVERYTHING to an abrupt halt. I'll post more! Hope it's not too late! I hardly get a wink of free time anymore sad


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

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#172 2010-10-08 00:52:09

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

Re: Werewolf in the Shadows (revised)

Chapter 9
    Crowell slammed his fist against the desk, feeling the residual shot of pain ascend up his right arm. The sturdy desk trembled from the blow and numerous papers fluttered to the floor. His brandy leapt from the table, jingling as it returned safely in its previous position.
    A grand chandelier illuminated the room, as did a small fire crackling in the corner of the room. The walls danced with ominous shadows from the leaping fire.
    Crowell was on his feet now, his chair discarded and his fists clenched with rage. Besides the crackling of fire hissing in the room and a guttural snarl that tore from Crowell’s throat, nothing else sounded.
    Brutus, his lead guard recoiled slightly, his eyes darting uncomfortably from the door and Crowell. He cleared his throat and withdrew a step. However, Crowell approached several steps in return, his strides fluid like liquid water.
    Crowell’s icy eyes glimmered with fury. “You told me the situation had been contained – that no one witnessed that attack. And now it’s on every news station in the country!” His voice, no longer smooth, ripped through the silence.
    Brutus’s face drained of its colour and he loosened the collar from around his throat, a thick sheen of sweat on his bald head. “Sir, I’m sorry but,” he responded, but Crowell cut him off.
    “I don’t give two shits if you’re sorry or not. It’s your job to ensure no one finds out about our guinea pigs – the media would have a field day with it and I’d be ruined. I’ve gone too far to ever let that happen!” His contorted face, marred with rage, drew closer to the hefty solider, though size didn’t appear to matter.
    Brutus massaged the back of his neck, sweat accruing on his palms and his eyes glancing submissively at the floor under Crowell’s scalding gaze.
    Crowell’s heated lecture ceased as the large doors opened, emitting a low squeal. Both men turned toward the open door, perplexed.
    Stanley, Crowell’s advisor and soldier, entered the room, muttering an apology as he approached. His sombre dark eyes flickered to Crowell while maintaining his professional demeanour.
    “I think we may have a problem,” Stanley announced, his voice filled with false confidence, though his heart skittered at Crowell’s demeanour.
    Crowell’s intense gaze shifted to Stanley, relieving Brutus of the discomfort. “What?” His liquid voice hissed with no obvious attempt to conceal his anger.
    Stanley blinked several times to rid of the growing unease, his eyes focused elsewhere. “We’ve found a rat amongst our ranks. Someone has been tipping the mongrels off about our shipping dates – someone within the facility.”
    Fierce sapphire eyes darted to Stanley, blazing with unconstrained fury. A vein throbbed in his temple like a pressure pipe prepared to rupture. “Who?” He demanded in a harsh hiss.
    Stanley leaned away from Crowell’s irresolvable rage, a spike of fear rippling through his spine. “We aren’t too certain as of yet, but I’m certain that he will slip up...” he was cut off once again.
    “Slip up?!” Crowell’s voice thundered in the silence, hurting Stanley’s ears. “They’ll slip up when? When they’ve completely destroyed this company?” He shook his head, vehemence in his demeanour. “No, I want you to do whatever it takes to catch the backstabbing prick.”
    Stanley gulped feebly, his voice scarcely returning to him. “Yes, sir.” He paused to inhale deeply. “Another thing,” he added, gauging Crowell’s reaction before he continued. Though his face was flushed with colour, contrasting the icy blue hue of his eyes, Crowell remained perceptive.     “When we discovered a possible culprit, we think we’ve located a potential converging area for the pack. However, I think there’s a possibility of human inhabitants at the location – civilians.” He handed Crowell a slip of paper with smudged handwriting, revealing the location.
    Crowell’s blazing sapphire eyes swept over the page and he peered upward over his hooked nose. “I don’t care,” he responded, and though his voice was nearly a whisper, a trail of shivers trailed through Stanley. “Kill and capture the bastards – all of them! Do what’s necessary for the company. If we have a clean shot, we’ll take it.”
    Stanley’s brows furrowed with disillusionment and he stammered. “I can’t just order my men to kill innocent people. It’s – it’s inhumane!”
    “Then I’ll give the orders!” Crowell’s hoarse voice responded, and a vein throbbed in his forehead. “You work for me, remember? Now get back to work. I don’t want their pack destroying my company and I refuse to sit back while they slowly pick off my men – especially now that we have a leak in company secrets.”
    Stanley recognized the familiar flash of depravity in Crowell’s eyes as he spoke, fear blossoming through his body. He nodded without word and revolved to exit.
    Through the deafening silence, Crowell’s voice sounded, restrained. “Kill the younger ones. They have no valuable information. Capture the old; they’re most likely to be in charge of the decisions of the pack.”
    Stanley nodded again, hoping his feet would carry him fast enough from the room and Crowell’s furious glance.
    When the room was empty of its occupants, Crowell exhaled sharply, retreating to his desk to fix himself some more brandy. As he leaned back in the seat, sipping his beverage, he peered down at the paper in his hands. “Lunar Tavern,” he murmured to himself and a sly grin slithered on his face. “Gotcha now,” he crooned.
                ***
    Two weeks had passed and during that time, he had searched feverishly for any helpful information, finding nothing but dead ends. Every lead he thought he obtained was abruptly cut short, as information was scarce.
    He could find almost nothing on Crowell, the werewolves, or Codoxin and how they were all interconnected. Crowell, he knew, had kept any valuable information locked up tightly, ensuring no compromising documents could be detected.
    Frustrated, Alex gripped his steering wheel tightly, gritting his teeth together as his foot compressed the accelerator. His car crooned mechanically as it darted through the emptying streets.
    Despite the fact that it was almost seven, the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, signalling the beginnings of winter. Puddles of rancid water were solidified, the scarce light reflecting from the icy sheets. Exhaust plumed from his muffler, dispersing into the atmosphere. Small flecks of slushy sleet speckled the window shield as he drove onward.
    His wary, keen eyes darted ahead of him, vigilant. His senses were attuned for any anomalies as he scoured the crime scene once again. As his car slithered by, he saw no indication of the accident, besides the deep scores in the pavement. The case was likely abandoned, he knew. A werewolf was a difficult culprit to catch when considered only that of myth.
    Perplexed, his brows furrowed as his eyes swept over the area. Nothing but gnarled trees stood as ominous reminders of the horrors the city contained.
    His car rolled smoothly down the uninhabited streets, searching vainly for a creature he knew he would not have the opportunity to see again.
    ‘Why did I bring him with me?’ He mused, agitated. ‘If Steven hadn’t been there I may have been able to discover more about these attacks and perhaps others like me.’ Though Steven and Alex were great friends, he knew some undertakings had to be endeavoured alone. It was far too dangerous for a human, especially since the creatures didn’t appear to take too kindly to them.
    He grimaced, sighing in defeat as he saw nothing out of place. Nothing moved besides a few residual rotted leaves scuttling along the street.
    However, as confliction roiled in his chest, a glimmer of weak light seized his attention.     Bemused, Alex cocked his head and his car slowed to a crawl.
    A faded plastic sign captured his attention and he was baffled as to why he hadn’t seen it earlier. If he had seen it earlier, it would have given Steven a reason to linger.
    His emerald eyes scoured the faded sign, which read Lunar Tavern in a white scroll and a yellow moon looming in the background. He contemplated for several moments, the need for a few beers and curiosity getting the best of him.
    His silver car slithered into the small parking lot, which contained only a single Chevy Pick up and three black motorcycles.
    The moment he pulled up to the decrepit building, his stomach twisted into knots and his hands clenched the steering wheel, white knuckled. He was anxious, for reasons unknown to him. Perhaps his subconscious knew something he didn’t.
    Undeterred, he stepped out of his vehicle into the cold night, locking the doors securely before he headed for the entrance.
    Even in the shroud of darkness that obscured the building, he could see through it with great lucidity. His nose curled with distaste. The wood was bowed and swollen from the slushy rain. Rusted nails protruded from the poor handiwork and the two small windows on either side of the door were sheathed in a foggy, opaque film. Shadows danced across the windows, but nothing distinguishable could be seen.
    Regaining his composure, he opened the heavy wooden door, which squealed shrilly amongst the buzzing of conversation. A sudden wave of putrid odours assaulted Alex, disorientating him. He recoiled slightly from the aromas of stale beer, mildew and excrement. No other scents besides those could be detected amongst the filth.
    Despite this, Alex casually rubbed his nose and entered, hoping he hadn’t attracted too much attention to himself. The floorboards of the tavern squeaked as he strode along the ground, wincing as several pairs of eyes followed him.
    The pub hadn’t exceeded any of Alex’s expectations. In fact, he knew it topped the list for the most ramshackle place he had ever seen. The walls were bare, marred with holes and splashed with stains – some, he surmised, were blood. He shivered as he continued onward, scrutinizing the vicinity.
    Only a single naked light bulb dangled in the middle of the room, illuminating only a small sphere around it and plunging the rest of the room into shadow. His feet often struck a splinter in the wooden floors or gouges in the surface.
    The music in the background was naught but a whisper amongst the murmuring, boisterous people.
    The moment he stepped foot in the building, the knot in his stomach twisted more painfully and he had the sudden feeling of unwelcome as he shuffled to the counter to order some drinks. The way hard eyes chanced venomous glances at him made him feel ill at ease.
    As he seated himself, waiting to be served, his curious eyes continued to scour the room for any remnants of life.
    Two middle-aged, burly men and one stout woman were seated in the corner of the bar to Alex’s right. His perceptive senses allowed him to hear their conversation, though he chose not to waste his time listening to people discussing their keen hatred for politics.
    In another booth he spotted a small cluster of men, all of whom swayed and slurred with drunkenness. ‘Drunks looking for cheap booze,’ he mused with disrepute.
    He sighed, his eyes flickering to his immediate left. A congregation of people were gathered around a single, large table. The group consisted of those surprisingly underage for a bar, and those older. However, none amongst the group appeared to exceed thirty.
    Perplexed, his eyes fixed on the hushed whispers emitting from the congregation and he was scarcely able to detect their hoarse murmurs.
    “Why did you even buy this place? Look at it, it’s a dump.” A slightly French accent muttered, but was too obscured by the other bodies to catch a glimpse of him.
    A deep, husky voice answered with a ring of authority in his words. “We’re waiting for our informant for our next...” the man was cut off as a feminine hand prodded his arm.
    Alex’s eyes flickered to a tall, lean woman with stunning blonde tresses and the man beside her – the authoritative one. Alex’s jaw muscles suddenly leapt as two silver eyes flickered in his direction and thick brows furrowed with malevolence.
    At that moment, Alex realized he had been gawking at the congregation of people, unblinking, his eyes transfixed and lost in their conversation. Though he had managed to eavesdrop on a portion of their conversation, what he heard baffled him.
    Quickly, before those accusing blue eyes could bore further into him, Alex glanced away, staring straight ahead of him at the barren walls. He wrung his fingers uneasily, feeling cold sweat sheen his body. When, from the corner of his eye, he saw a massive figure rise from the table, his heart drummed sporadically in his chest. However, he maintained his forward glance until the tall figure situated himself in front of Alex.
    “What can I get you?” The husky man asked with no apparent effort to be pleasant. In fact, Alex detected a sting of vehemence in his words.
    Alex couldn’t help but gaze at the figure. His height far surpassed Alex’s six foot one and he wore a short sleeved shirt that was spread tautly against his prominent muscles. His thick arms were folded, making the steel bands of muscle more obvious.
    ‘Definitely intimidating,’ Alex mused, smiling weakly. He extracted his wallet, leaving it on the counter to flaunt his cash, hoping that perhaps the man’s harsh gaze would diminish at the sight of money. He had no such luck.    
    “Just a beer,” Alex murmured and kept his eyes focused on his intertwined hands as the man revolved to grab a glass from the shelf. Alex dared not look directly into such a penetrating glance, for deep within him stirred fear. He knew not why the cause, but he was very much intimidated by the man’s demeanour.
    As his beer was being served, a lithe woman departed from the group of people, approaching the hulking man. Her beautiful caramel hair cascaded over her bronze-skinned shoulder and stunning hazel eyes glanced from beneath long black lashes. Alex’s heart picked up momentarily. Her smell, a wild odour he could not pinpoint, left butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t remember the last time a woman’s presence impacted him so deeply, but there was something mysterious and exciting about her demeanour.
    “Do you need any help, Gregory?  The meeting has just about concluded.” She enquired in amiably as she approached him. However, her eyes flickered briefly to Alex.
    He couldn’t help but meet her gaze and felt his face burn fiercely. Her eyes were eerily incandescent despite the dim settings and further enthralled him. He had seen those eyes before....He didn’t have time to discover how or why he knew her as the liquid softness of her hazel eyes froze like two sheets of ice. Her brows furrowed and a tickle of fear danced in her eyes. Her lips were pursed tightly, even as she gathered Gregory’s burly arm and disappeared in the back.
    Alex was perplexed. He glanced around the room. Was it someone else she was glaring at? He had said nothing wrong! The room of people took no notice besides the single man in a booth beside the exit. His eyes were fixed on the table Gregory and the female had left from. When he noticed Alex staring at him, he averted his eyes and continued sipping his brimming mug of beer.
    As Alex turned back toward the bar table, he saw a glint of light reflecting from a protrusion in the man’s waist. It was so obscured he thought he was only imagining it, but as he glanced again he saw the unmistakable silhouette of a gun.
    Alarmed, Alex whirled back around and motioned to warn the bartender of the immediate danger. As he did so, however, a massive, solid fist struck him with a pulverizing force. He hadn’t any time to prepare for the assault as the force of the blow knocked him off his feet and reeling to the ground. Besides the sharp pain searing across his cheek he felt the instantaneous gush of blood from the split skin. How anyone could inflict such damage perplexed him.
    He spat out a mouthful of scarlet and cursed as he tried to gather his bearings. He weakly scrambled to his feet to face the massive brute, a sudden spike of anger engulfing him. He paid no heed to the gun-wielding man murmuring lightly into his heavy jacket.
    As Alex got to his feet, the fist struck again. Gregory’s blow was too swift to dodge, too fast for him to comprehend what was happening. Alex knew he would have no time to react. However, as his fist sailed through the air, a pale hand shot out and grasped Gregory’s wrist. His blow was inches from hitting home and Alex watched, bemused, as the blonde woman restrained the beastly man with little effort.
    Alex was shocked by a hideous scar marring her otherwise flawless complexion. Her cobalt eyes flickered from Alex to Gregory, though hard as they were, held deep wisdom and compassion. She leaned her soft lips to his ear and spoke. “You cannot kill a human when we are surrounded by them. They’ll call the cops and he’ll find us. I’ve been around long enough to know it never ends well.” She assured, releasing his strained hand. The veins in his arms pulsed with blood, rising to the surface of the skin and snaking upward like a roadmap.
    Gregory grunted, his icy eyes solid, fixed on Alex with hatred he could not begin to fathom. In a swift, fluid movement, he gathered Alex’s wallet and flipped through the contents.
    Despite the fear that rocketed through his body, the anger finally ebbed through. “Give it back,” he snarled, no longer caring about the audience watching him or the eerie silence that swept across the room. “I don’t want any trouble.” He had done nothing wrong! And yet he was being treated as if he did.
    Gregory’s muscles leapt with restraint and his lips pressed into a thin line. He tossed his wallet at Alex’s feet, his fathomless eyes boring deep into him. Shivers trailed up Alex’s spine and he was in a stupor from the aura the man exuded.
    “Don’t ever come here again, or your wallet will be the least of your worries,” he growled, his voice hoarse, controlled. The group of drunken men appeared dissatisfied with the outcome, displeasure obvious in their expressions.
    Just as Alex warily reached for his wallet, a stirring caught in the corner of his eye, seizing his attention. Black shadows moved across the hazy windowpane – the contours of men, numerous men. He hadn’t any time to react before chaos erupted.
    The feeble door exploded off of its hinges. The cacophonous roar of exploding fragments caused him to wince. The wooden splinters showered down on the tavern in dangerous projectiles. Metal canisters clanked to the ground and immediately spewed thick shrouds of white fog that crept to every corner of the room.
    Screams erupted from all around and the dark outlines of people flitted across the room in a stricken frenzy. Men dressed in SWAT attire poured into the tavern like a nest of angry ants. Their footfalls were cacophonous to Alex’s ears and he recoiled away from the sound.
    The white plumes of tear gas seared his nostrils and burned his throat. Usually having no effect on him, he hastily recoiled from the intense pain shooting through his orifices. He staggered to his feet as the SWAT-clad men continued to enter with their relentless attack.
    A cold fear lashed Alex’s body, making his joints stiff and immobile as he withdrew from the oncoming chaos. The bodies of victims collided with him in their blind desperation for escape. Deafening crackles of gunfire split through the air and with every roar of a gun, his heart lurched. It wouldn’t be long before a stray bullet stuck him, and with the pain he felt now, he was certain that the bullets would cause harm. He did not want to take the risk.
    His eyes were narrowed to scour through the thick haze while avoiding the inevitable searing that continued to assault his senses. He had never known fear to exist so strongly – a fear of imminent death. And yet it consumed him, making him like all the others scuttling around in a blind panic.
    Coughing and spluttering, Alex gazed behind him, an icy trail rippling down his spine. Numerous masked assailants were emerging from the fog, approaching Alex, their rifles brandished in their hands. The tinted faceplates of their masks prohibited Alex from distinguishing the attackers, which made the fear more raw. He was going to die and yet he stood in a stupor, time slowing as the lethal brigade closed the distance between them. Their thunderous footfalls failed to drown out the clamouring of his heart or the sharp inhalation of noxious air ripping through his lungs.
    One soldier lifted his gun to take aim. An instinct prompted Alex to spring out of the way as gunfire screamed from the levelled rifle. He heard the metal projectiles whistle past his ear as he feinted to the right. Flailing bodies caught in the crossfire were struck by the lethal torrent of relentless bullets. Bodies twitched as they hit the ground and agonizing screams ceased as bullets struck them dead.
    A fine mist of blood showered the air, though Alex could not smell the repulsive odours as the peppery gas continued to burn at his skin. The barrage of bullets pelted furniture and walls, causing wood to splinter and hail upon fleeing people.
    Some hid beneath the meagre chairs and benches, grasping their throats and spluttering, while others darted blindly through the fog. The blood of the dying and the dead stained the decrepit wooden floors, seeping deep into the crevices and congealing.
    Bullets smashed the windows, tore through the feeble walls and the lights were suddenly extinguished, plunging the chaos into darkness. Alex took refuge beneath the large wooden table, but the flood of bullets pelted the wood, punching holes in it and missing Alex by inches. His survival instincts driving him, he abandoned his shelter and leapt across the room as fast as his legs could carry him.
    However, the corrosive gas seared his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His muscles cramped up and he staggered to his knees, the very action causing intense pain. Through the thick haze, he glared through it, scarcely able to distinguish the room behind the bar and a door leading outside.
    Tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision as he forced his muscles to move with excruciating slowness. His throat was swollen with phlegm and his eyes felt as though they would leap from their sockets. No matter how much he inhaled, no air would alleviate the suffocating he was enduring. His fingernails scrabbled along the wooden floor, the slivers burying into the nail beds.
    As his gaze bore through the thick haze, he spotted a figure curled up on the ground, clutching her side from a bullet that had struck her. Though he could scarcely see, he recognized the woman and the sudden urge to save her.
    Though he neared the exit and could feel the cool breeze of night time air caress his burning cheeks, he glanced back, conflicted. She would die if left unattended. Adrenaline kept him conscious, kept his eyelids from slithering shut. Behind the wounded woman, he spotted the assailant, his black mask cocked in her direction, his finger itching towards the trigger.
    In a sudden blur of speed he knew he was not capable in such conditions, he lurched forwards, his aching muscles propelling him into a lethal projectile.
    As the nozzle of the rifle aimed at her, Alex’s shoulder collided with the soldier’s midsection, heaving him across the room and into his approaching comrades. He could hear the audible crack of bone in the man’s chest as he crumpled to the ground, dead.
    Hastily, Alex gathered the woman in his arms, and though he could scarcely lift his own head, he managed to summon enough strength to stagger to his feet. His knees immediately buckled and he thought he’d fall. However, sheer desperation kept him on his feet as bullets sprayed nearby.
    His heartbeat clamoured in his ears as the exit drew nearer, the soldiers in close pursuit. He managed to dodge a few bullets, feeling one graze alongside his bicep. He could feel blood rolling down his arm from the shallow laceration, but persisted, each excruciating footstep drawing him closer to his escape.
    The gas seared more than ever, tearing at his lungs until he thought he could breathe no more. Surely he would drop the woman and collapse to a heap. But he persisted until he felt the ground give way as the floor ended and hard cement greeted him. It happened so quickly, as his eyes were pressed tightly closed.
    He plummeted to a heap on the frigid outside cement, his elbows striking the concrete and the woman tumbling from his grasp. Though the pain that rocketed through his elbows, he experienced sudden relief course through his body.
    He rolled onto his back, clutching his bleeding elbows as he inhaled deeply, the cool night air replenishing his weary body.
    As his heavy head lolled to one side, through the slits of his eyelids, he watched the woman clutching her side as she staggered to her feet and bolted away. The moment he blinked, she was gone.
    Despite the aggravating throbbing in his head, he groaned, hearing the quaking nightmare nearing – the men approaching. In a few short breaths, Alex leapt to his feet, his muscles surging with immortal strength.
    The men wielding guns pursued the trickle of fleeing people, who screamed and darted out of the back door. Some stumbled and were shot down, while others regained their footing and managed to run.
    Alex heard his shoes slapping against the ice-glazed cement, the narrow walls of the alley pressing in from all around, preventing any escape. However, even the echo of his own footfalls sounded eerily distant. Forward was his only option. Though he was relived of the agonizing pain of the gas, he had never felt so trapped, so helpless. The bullets that whistled by could strike him dead at any moment. And yet they missed him, miraculously.
    He knew not how the bullets had harmed him, for he still felt the sharp sting of pain in his arm from a bullet that grazed the skin. To his dismay, time seemed to slow and the hoarse screams of fleeing victims filled his head, reverberating throughout the recesses of his skull and causing his ears to ring.
    With each scream of gunfire a body fell – dead – blood solidifying against the cold pavement. He chanced a brief glance back and gasped, horror creeping through his body. There were dozens of them all close behind, some kneeling to take aim with their glimmering rifles and tinted faceplates.
    A blond woman was running alongside him, her face terror-stricken and her shrill screams tearing through the night, hurting Alex’s ears. With a single gun shot, blood and flesh sprayed Alex as a bullet pierced her skull. Her eyes slithered to the back of her head and she crumpled to a heap.
    With horrified awe, Alex saw her awry hair obscure a portion of her face, though her hazel eyes remained blank, unblinking. Blood crept and wove through her hair, drizzling onto the pavement. The shocking scarlet hue contrasted with the pale grey concrete.
    Alex’s eyes slammed shut as a sudden convulsion raked through his body. The fear, sweat, blood, the cacophony of cries, and approaching footfalls was too much for him to cope with. For within a span of a heartbeat, the sinister fog rolled through his mind like a dark shadow consuming the light, plunging him into wicked darkness. The beast had roused from its slumber and through the terror that raked through Alex’s body it seized control over his human mind.
    His coherency vanished and all reasoning dissipated until all that was left was a dark, sinister void in his being. The shift began. Even as he ran, the shift commenced. Shivers rolled down his back as vertebrae popped beneath his skin, joints relocating, elongating. A broad muzzle protruded from his face and fierce molten eyes blazed in the darkness. The fury, like a blood in water, plumed throughout his body, urging the shift as he continued to flee.
    Clothes were shredded from a now amplified being. Lethally curved talons protruded from heavy-set paws and a breeze swayed the chestnut mane around its throat, speckled with silver frosting. A short, ruffed tail protruded from its spine and the shift was complete.
    The beast opened its honey eyes, assessing its surrounding. Within the span of seconds, the crowds of terrified people had dispersed, soldiers following. The beast was a few blocks from the tavern, situated in the middle of a vacant and dark street. Only the meagre lighting from the heavens revealed the faint and nearly indistinguishable silhouette of its massive, quivering frame. Muscles rippled, ears twitched, and a large black nose scented the air. The powerful odours of sulphur and the peppery scent of the gas assaulted its senses.
    It snorted with distasted, but salivated once the coppery aroma of blood drifted in the breeze. Its jaws snapped audibly and threads of saliva spewed from its frothing maw. Its ears twitched towards a distant sound. Its head cocked to one side, muscles tense with anticipation. Two pairs of footfalls were approaching, uncoordinated and gasping for air.
    “Follow the paw prints,” he heard one soldier bellow to his comrade.
    The beast’s long, red tongue trailed over the row of glistening white fangs, relishing in the thought of plunging them into the man’s flesh, hearing his screams and feeling the skin peel beneath its fingertips. It could contain its insatiable thirst no longer.
    The beast intentionally lingered until two men, one trailing behind, emerged from an alley across the street and spotted the werewolf.
    “Over there,” the man named Stanley proclaimed, thrusting a finger in its direction. With the experience of many years, Stanley quickly raised his gun to take aim. Like a flickering shadow, the werewolf disappeared down a long alley before a bullet could issue.
    As the beast plunged into the confines of the shadows, unfazed by the gun-wielding men behind, it sprang, grabbing a foothold on the crevices in the brick wall. A bullet smacked the brick next to the creature’s head, sending debris projecting through the air.
    The lycanthrope, unhindered, continued its ascent up the brick wall, each massive leap sending it closer to the top until it disappeared just as another bullet screamed.
    The two men stopped at the brick wall where the beast had ascended and peered upward, unable to see anything but a vast canopy of darkness. Each man had their guns levelled skyward, their finger poised on the trigger. With their unfaltering gaze, they remained prepared to shoot.
    The beast’s milky eyes glanced over the rooftop at the two men below. They had their guns situated above them, though their aim was off, pointed too far left. The soldiers failed to see as the clever and furtive werewolf lunged horizontally to another rooftop. Its heavy paws landed with little disturbance onto the rooftop thirty feet above.
    It’s loathsome gaze fixed on the two soldiers below, who had their back to the lethal predator, oblivious of its route. The beast observed them with its keen night vision, sizing them up and isolating its first prey. The older soldier would make a formidable opponent, for the scent of fear was weak on his body. But the other man’s heartbeat quivered sporadically and his gun jangled from his trembling hands.
    He located his victim. The werewolf sneered, its white fangs glistening in the darkness and its dilated pupils transfixed on its prey. The thick scent of blood pulsing beneath their skin was alluring to the beast.
    With calculation and swiftness of a feline, the beast descended down the building, its talons plunging into the crevices of the brick. Its tongue flicked out like a snake scenting its prey. A snarl built in its chest, prepared to explode from its throat.
    Its ears pulled back against its head and its coarse fur bristled. Ten feet, five feet, four feet...he approached, a quiver of delight shivering through its body. Muscles tensed as legs coiled to spring, heat flushing through his muscles despite the cold of night.
    With a sudden flash of speed, the werewolf lunged. Both men were unprepared for the abrupt attack. The beast’s massive shoulder caught the younger soldier’s back, hurling him through the air; meanwhile the werewolf’s free hand tore the gun free from the other soldier. Both guns clattered in the distance, sheathed in darkness.
    A hoarse whoosh of air escaped the young soldier’s throat as he hit the brick wall, a laceration splitting open on his forehead, disorientating him. In a single stride, the werewolf didn’t hesitate with the first man. Its massive paws drummed the ground with its stealthy approach. Its molten eyes blazed with unconstrained fury. This would be the man’s last vision as a mouthful of fangs fastened around his face.
    A muffled scream issued from the man as his arms flailed in a meagre attempt to protect himself. The tender flesh gave way to brittle bone, which cracked with ease beneath the intense pressure of its massive maw. Only a single grunt sounded as the beast’s jaws compressed together, ending the man’s life.
    Stanley was already halfway down the alley, panting and whimpering. His heartbeat was like a thunderclap in the lycanthrope’s ears. The beast took pleasure as it lagged behind and snapped at his heels. The terrified man screamed and ran faster.
    The beast closed the distance between them in one effortless stride. Its digit-grade paws seized Stanley’s shoulder and thrust him against the wall. Stanley grunted as the thick arm pinned him against the wall, a shiver of pain raking his body. He knew this was the beginning of much worse to come.
    His eyes could only detect the blazing golden hue of the werewolf’s fierce eyes and the blood stained teeth of his assailant, lips pulled back in a wicked grin. Even in all his years of experience he had never known such raw fury to exist. Its eyes burned like a raging inferno, revealing his impending demise. He could not scream as his throat swelled and his diaphragm twisted into knots. He knew this was a bad idea. He tried to warn Crowell, but he would not heed his warning.
    A throaty snarl exploded from the beast’s maw, its lips peeling back to reveal glistening knife-sized teeth. Its breath reeked of death, the coppery scent of blood fanning across Stanley’s face.
    A strangled cry emitted from Stanley as golden talons pierced his shoulder, a trail of crimson trickling down his uniform. The grip was crushing, nearly overwhelming as he dared not to struggle in the grasp of a werewolf capable of ripping steel doors off his hinges.
    All he could do was watch in awe as the blood-enveloped muzzle neared, teasing. His stomach was clenched with fear, gripping his body as he tried to recoil from the beast’s approach. He was eerily calm despite facing certain death. He could only hope it would be swift and painless, though he knew he could hope for no such luck.
    He gasped again as the talon plunged deeper into his other shoulder, making his teeth clench firmly together to prevent a scream from tearing though his throat. The lycanthrope was relishing in the torture. He was tempted to beg and plead with the merciless being, but refused to die in such an undignified manner.
    Though he had pondered the idea of death numerous times before, nothing could ever prepare him for the thoughts and images that reeled through his mind. They were not flashbacks, but images of a future he’d have if fate were to present him one more chance.
    The werewolf’s jaws clicked, causing him to wince and he gazed away from the ruthless eyes, instead gazing into the dark shadows. Here he would find solace.    
    With a sudden thrust of its head, a mouthful of ivory plunged into his throat and a sudden spasm engulfed his body. A gurgled cry escaped his lips as a fierce pain seared through his neck. The ligaments connecting his throat were severed and his vital blood vessels were perforated, spewing waves of hot, coppery blood.
    Though the pain that raked his body with each heartbeat, he felt peculiarly tranquil as he inhaled his last garbled breath. He saw nothing but the shadows in which he gazed – the shadows that would greet him once death arrived, and he knew he was ready.
    He was uncertain whether it was adrenaline or the cold grip of death that provided him such mercy, but he felt no more pain. He heard nothing but the own whoosh of blood travelling through his temples, behind his ears. He heard not the ravenous roars of the wicked beast or the tearing of his own flesh.
    His body was numb as the distant thrumming of his heart gradually weakened, faltering before it died. He felt the final thrust of his heart before it ceased and serenity consume him.
    When he hit the ground, his blank stare gazed at sparkling heavens. His cell phone clattered at his side. It hummed a melodic tune and the caller ID read Tom Crowell.


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