Wolves of Corentine

[Violet]

Wolves of Corentine

Cheshire Park was soaking wet from the endless downpour. It was located in the slums, covered in old sycamores and commonly occupied by those who were homeless. Being the largest park in Corentine, it was a place of mystery and occasional phenomenal events. Hardly anyone dared to wander off into the deeper parts, fearing they’d get mugged or lost. The wind was blowing harshly against the trees, making it difficult for Amanda to tape the yellow caution strip across the bark. There was a crime scene investigation taking place and it was her duty as a cop to make sure no-one trespassed. Wearing a black raincoat over her uniform, she spent the rest of the time standing near the ambulance, helping out where needed. Two bodies had been found tangled up in the brush near the pond. They were discovered by one of the bums that slept there every day, but he was very vague on details. The bodies were extremely mutilated, some pieces missing. The cause was unconfirmed at present, but more information would leak out through the news later on.

After cleaning things up, it was time for Amanda to take the day off. She arrived at her home on Lavinsky street in the middle-class part of the city. Her boots were wet and her feet felt numb from standing too long in the cold, wet rain. As she slipped out of her raincoat, she noticed the scent of apple cinnamon wafting through the air. After switching the television on, she went to the kitchen only to find her mother on the phone. The woman was shorter than Amanda and had light blond hair with pale skin. The resemblance between mother and daughter was quite noticeable except for a few small features.

"So what went on today?" Mrs. Josephine took out a freshly-baked apple cinnamon pie from the oven, setting it on top of the stove. Amanda raked a hand through her damp scraggly hair, eying the time on the microwave. "I'm not exactly sure yet. Some kind of murder. Two females, but the ages weren't defined." Her mom shook her head while she took two plates from the cabinets. "Well that's a shame. No confirmed suspects?" "Not yet. They'll explain some details on the news, hopefully." Her mom gestured the plate in her direction. "You'll be having some, right?" Amanda slipped the soggy gloves off her hands and placed them on the chair. "Maybe later. I'd like to take a shower first." Her mom shrugged and she left the blue-painted kitchen.

The bathroom was small and carefully organized with a few of Amanda's cosmetics placed around the back of the sink. Her skin reflected off the black tile walls of the shower as she began to think of what went on that day. Murder wasn't very common around her parts. For most of her career, the only cases she dealt with were illegal drugs or random fist fights, including a few small things like J-walking. The victims' bodies were too mutilated to tell what could've caused their death, but it certainly was a murder. What sort of human could inflict such brutal looking wounds? The thought stuck in her head until she fell asleep on the couch, leaving the television on all night.

While she was sleeping, the news came on, explaining what little they knew of the incident. "Two female bodies were discovered this morning by a passerby in Cheshire Park. They were found in tangled brush by the pond, but their identity is still currently unknown. Investigator John Brookes explained how the inflicted wounds appeared to be caused by some sort of animal. Whether the suspect is an animal or a man, we will get back to you on that. As for the weathe--" Amanda's mom turned the television off. She stared at the screen for some time, pondering what she just heard. With one last glance at Amanda, she turned off the light and headed for bed.


The rain splattered against the large stained glass window to Bennet's room. The walls were painted dark red and covered with old family portraits. It was cold throughout the mansion, just the way the old man liked it. Someone was playing classical music softly on the piano in the parlor downstairs. Bennet was well aware of the sound, his lids partially lowered. It was absolutely soothing to his mind and body. Ray had been fourteen years old when he taught the boy piano lessons. He had already known the basics, so it was quite easy to teach him the rest. The sound ended with a press of random keys, and the lid thudded shut. Bennet licked his chapped lips, craving for some water to wet his dry mouth. A minute later, the handle on the large black doors turned, entering a man in his late thirties. He was slim and tall with curly light-blond hair framing pale skin and dark, green eyes. His expression showed no emotion as he slowly walked to the side of Bennet's bed.

In his hand was a pitcher of water filled with ice. He poured it into the old man's cup and brought the rim up to his lips, supporting Bennet's head with his other hand. "Thank you, Ray." He downed the water in less than seconds, showing a crave for more. Resting his head against the pillow once more, he scanned the man's face with pallid gray eyes. "Anything new?" Ray shook his head, his lips creeping into a smile. "No, my dear father. Nothing at all." There was something he was keeping from his old master--his eyes told otherwise. He walked over to the window, lightly running his uncut nails along the wall. The way he looked outside was unseeing, almost as if he was elsewhere. Bennet's haggard voice intercepted his thoughts. "I'm not buying that." Ray stayed where he was, leaning against the sill. He let out a sigh. "I've done something. Something terrible." He paused, glancing at the old man's unphased face. Then he chuckled. "The start of something terribly wonderful."

[Furore]

The stench of cheap bourbon and burning tyres pervaded the car yard on Rich Street, yet the men lazing around under the tall stack of cars barely noticed it. It was the usual scent of the place. As Kurt Rockbottom looked towards the street sign on the corner he laughed, his dark hair almost covering his face as he convulsed. Rich street was one of the worst streets in Corentine's underbelly, so naturally Kurt's laugh was one of irony. But then he belonged here. It was a place for outcasts and thugs. Kurt's red specked golden eyes glistened as he turned to the bottle beside him. He guessed he still had half the bottle of bourbon to drink.

It had been a few weeks since Kurt's last transformation into wolf form, but then he preferred to live as a human when he could. This was simply due to his friends he hung with at the car yard. Some were werewolves, some were human. And though his fellow werewolf friends knew of Kurt's heritage, if any of Kurt's human friends found out, who knew what would happen? Though all claimed to be tolerant of those strong enough to demand it, werewolves were one of those things less seen in this day and age. The last time Kurt had transformed was when he had decided to mug the wrong target those few weeks back. The man had been a werewolf himself, yet Kurt hadn't known. And to fight a werewolf, you had to be a werewolf. Kurt had to flee that conflict in the end, but to his satisfaction he managed to grab the man's discarded wallet in his mouth before running away to transform back into his human form. He'd won in his own way...

'KURT YOU DRUNK ****!', a man roared at Kurt waking him from his reminiscence. Kurt pegged his bottle at the man and sat up.
'WHAT?' he yelled back.
'Geeze man. I said we're out of money again. You know, MON-EY'
It took a few seconds for Kurt to process what the man, his friend had said. Kurt sighed and then stood up, brushing the crumbs from his jacket and jeans.
'I'm on it.' Kurt replied. 'You guys go see what you can scrounge up too'.

It took Kurt a while to stand up, the effects of the alcohol causing him to sway just a tad. As Kurt swaggered to the entrance of the car yard, he grinned and waved to his companions before turning to the sign which read 'Rich St.'. WHAM! The sign was no more, it's state now reflecting the area in which it stood. Kept turned left and started walking towards a wealthier part of Corentine. That was where he'd make his money. Just as he had so many times before...

[Aerif]

It was almost as if the street had been closed entirely to pedestrians, for there was only one person walking upon the concrete paving slabs who was not associated with Corentine media. Or rather there was nobody present who was not planning to make money from their presence upon the street through the selling of articles or photographs of the sole non-reporter or photographer on the street. This person made no attempt to try to get rid of the attention of the media, she did not suddenly dart into one of the high-class shops, nor did she slip into the gourmet restaurants. There was no need, they didn’t particularly bother her, there wasn’t anything the media knew that could possibly hurt her or give her damaging publicity, and there wasn’t any chance of that ever happening, she took precautions to stop herself from over-indulging, she partook in a long-distance relationship, she never took drugs and never practised adultery. As far as the media knew, she was as clean as the pope.

And so her little mistakes where pursued by the media even more, each magazine and newspaper, each broadcasting station, they all wanted to dish the dirt on Madeline Joyeux, heir to the Joyeux Incorporation, perhaps the most successful company on the planet.

However, despite allegations and hints that she only went out into public for attention, Madeline had actually left her apartment for a good reason. She had actually intended on buying something when she had left in the morning, so when she arrived outside of a rather large fronted store that sold Parisian fashions (after all, Parisia was a rather gifted section of Corentine), she stopped and turned to go in. When she did this she met with a groaning response, the shop was protected by security guards who would not allow the paparazzi to enter the shop, the windows where all blacked out and one could only learn of the secrets inside if one was influential enough to be allowed to enter.

The interior of the shop was not as deserted as the street outside, nor as hot, a cool air-conditioned air circulated the building and protected the customers and staff from the heat of the climate (Corentine had a rather large geographical span, it just so happened that the area she was visiting was one of the more hotter regions). There where a few familiar faces within the shop, some faces which the paparazzi could make thousands of dollars from, however the rich and the famous where not as fascinated with each other as the civilians where to these celebrities. It was all common routine for them.

Madeline made her way directly to the customer services desk which was made of overly-polished wood and that was difficult to look at for too long. Behind the desk was a young Parisian with whom Madeline had acquainted herself with, they weren’t quite friends, however they where on first name terms.

“Bonjour Mme. Joyeux!”

Well rather, Madeline was allowed to call him by his first name and had committed it to memory, the Parisian was still obligated to refer to her by her surname.

“Hello Yves, I’m here for my usual and I really don’t have time to chat.”

The man’s face fell, when Madeline was in a good mood she could be rather social, however that wasn’t a common occurrence and she usually just looked down on people from poorer backgrounds. Yves had been hoping that she was in a talkative mood, after all, she had walked in with a rather impressive confidence, not cocky, yet fully aware of her popularity and influence.

“Of course, mademoiselle, of course.”

He disappeared from sight for a moment, reaching his hands underneath the desk, and he emerged with a shopping bag and an empty shoe box. He placed the shoebox within the bag and handed it over.

“Merci, Yves.”

She had spoken with a very un-Parisian accent, but Yves’ felt his heart melt through the prospect of her actually talking to him. She gave a flirtatious wink in his general direction and laughed when he near-enough fainted to the ground.

But before he had the opportunity to laugh with her, she had disappeared. Making her way to the side of the shop where there was a door leading into shop next door. Which was simply for the convenience and avoidance of the media by the celebrities that happened to use these shops. She had entered into an expensive bookshop (where every book had a leather cover and was hard-backed), this shop was much less inhabited, the sort of people who managed to afford to shop on this street weren’t really bookish, and not a lot of people knew Madeline was either, hence the reason why she had entered into the Parisian Fashion shop first.

As if she had done it one million times before, Madeline walked directly towards the advanced Chemistry section and browsed the shelves for the book she was looking for. Shortly after, she emerged with a complicated book filled with detection of chemical methods. What she needed was in this book. The book cost well over $50, it was designed as being a book kept in Universities for reference libraries, regardless Madeline Joyeux was a billionaire, $50 for a book didn’t bother her terribly, especially for all the benefits that would come when she bought it.

Once she had paid for the book she put it in the shoebox and exited through the Parisian Fashion shop, the media pounced upon her and she was happy to smile for the camera and be friendly to the reporters who where looking for any excuse to write about her. A limousine was waiting for her at the end of the high street, she entered it and the large car disappeared into the Corentenian traffic.

[Xeim]

“Do not speak harshly to an older man, but speak to him as to a father, to younger men as brothers, to older women as mothers, to younger women as sisters—with absolute purity.” – Timothy 5:1

“I’ve got it Thomas! I’ve got it!” cried a tall, black haired man as he walked up the aisle between the pews in the elegant Church of St. Alessandra. The church was simple, yet beautiful, with many stained glass windows lining its traditional layout. Thomas, the man’s good friend, was organizing and dusting idols on the sanctuary walls. He was a short, plump man with thin blonde hair and a natural frown planted on his pudgy face.

“What is it now, Father? You really ought to be up here helping me you know…”

“I know! I know! But Thomas! I’ve finally gotten a lead on the werewolf hunters! Oh, isn’t it wonderful? The Lord- He’s been with me the whole time, I just know it!”

“Oh Father…you really ought to give up on that rubbish. You know better than to think that such mythical things exist.” Thomas sighed and turned back to his idols.

The man just stared at him. He knew better than to think that werewolves were mythical. He had seen one with his own two eyes, seven years ago. It wasn’t a fond memory, but it was still there, and there was no reason denying it. He looked up to the large stained glass window at the back wall of the sanctuary. It depicted the great Saint Alessandra, protector of man from daemon. It was said that long ago, Alessandra had stood before an army of wolf daemons and allowed her human brothers and sisters to run to safety.

“Long, long ago, on the day now known to us as they Day of Alessandra, a village of people were attacked by a horde of daemons. These daemons were vicious creatures, with smooth coats of fur, and insane eyes. The villagers fled, but were inevitably pursued. One among them, a young seamstress named Alessandra, stopped in her tracks and thrust her arms out.

“‘You shall not pass!’ she commanded the daemons. Her fellow townspeople cried out for her to not be so foolish, to keep running.

“‘We can outrun them!’ they screamed. But even as they said it, they knew it wasn’t true.

“‘Run!’ cried the beautiful Alessandra. ‘Run as if Satan himself is knocking at your door!’

“And she faced the vicious wolf daemons head on, allowing her brothers and sisters to be saved.

“It’s right there in our scriptures Thomas.” The man said all of this solemnly, as if it were something that was a sin to utter. He knew that his friend would be rather angry with him for turning to the scriptures to justify his foolishness, but what else was there to turn to? “Well,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll be off then!” He grinned at his plump friend. “Make sure you do a good job on those idols Father Thomas! Especially Alessandra!” And with that, he turned and ran off, back down the aisle of pews and out the intricately carved, wooden double-doors.

“F-Father Crispin!” shouted Thomas after him. “That man is hopeless…”

+++

If one is full of despair, what do they do? They seek out the cause of their despair and implement revenge. The cause of this act varies considerably. It can be anything from the theft of bread to a tragic murder. Even the kind of revenge varies from case to case. Some give a person a ‘taste of their own medicine’ and others…others chase myths.

“Ah! What a magnificent day! The angels must be smiling down upon me!” Crispin said joyfully. He took a deep breath of air and turned his head to the sky to feel the warmth of the sun on his face. The sky was a deep azure with not a cloud in sight, and the sun shone down softly, kindly. “Today’s the day…I can feel it.” His destination was a small, run-down apartment building at the edge of town. The area was still considered ‘middle-class,’ but it was by far the lower end. Slums, if you will. The apartment, however, was still a ways off.

Crispin currently stood in the middle of a plaza. It was part of a pretty, outdoor mall, filled with small trees and bushes, and dotted with elegant water fountains. The fountain in this particular plaza, unofficially dubbed the “Plaza of the Anonymous Angel,” was something to see. Its beautiful marble form depicted an angel smiling altruistically. She held within her elegant hands a small, stone harp. An inscription at the bottom of the statue stated: “Keep in mind the sun, even in the rain.” Crispin smiled along with the angel. Was she the sun the engraving was referring to? He came to this spot every time he was in town to look upon the beautiful statue. There was something sacred about it. Crispin just couldn’t figure it out. He pulled a quarter out of his suit pocket and tossed it into the basin of the fountain. The money in it was collected every Saturday evening and donated to a local charity.

It was time to move on. He took one more look at the unnamed angel, and left the plaza. He hadn’t eaten all day, so he wanted to stop at a local deli before moving on to the apartment. After all, who knew what kind of Hell he could meet there? Can’t face the devil on an empty stomach.

The deli, called “Tom’s Sandwiches and Burgers,” was just across the street from the “Plaza of the Anonymous Angel.” It was a family-run business, and the owners, the Taccoma family, attended the Church of St. Alessandra every Sunday. They were very devout- they never missed a day of service, sang the hymns with much emotion, and kept the Lord close to their hearts every second of every day. The menus of Tom’s were even lined with passages from the Bible.

“Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Taccoma!” Crispin said heartily as he entered. “Isn’t it a wonderful day? I just had to stop by for one of the best sandwiches in Corentine!”

“Father! Oh, you flatter us. Please, come sit down! Your favorite table is open!” chuckled Mrs. Taccoma from behind the counter. “Tom’s in the back, cooking. I’ll tell him you’re here. What can I get for you today?”

“Oh, my usual,” Crispin said as he reached his table. It was a small booth, which seated two people at most, in the corner of the room. One side faced a window that looked out on the “Plaza of the Gallant Horseman.” And, as one might guess, this plaza had a fountain with a statue depicting a stately horseman. Though it was not as beautiful as the Anonymous Angel, it still gave off an air of elegance. Rumor had it that the two statues were connected somehow, but it was one rumor that Crispin never decided to pursue. For some reason, he liked the mystery.

Crispin sat down on the side of the bench facing toward the window to wait for his food. He had ordered a foot long “Veggie Sandwich” on wheat bread. He had grown up on pork and beef, but Father Crispin Flynn much preferred plants. Vegetarianism was only a suggested practice, but being a priest and role model of the people of St. Alessandra, he decided it best to exercise the optional practice. He didn’t mind the absence of meat much, the taste had always been too overpowering anyway.

Tom himself brought Crispin’s sandwich out. “So good to see you, Father!”

“Likewise!” Crispin smiled.

“What brings you to town today? Not more myth busting I hope!”

“Sorry to disappoint, Tom. This one’s something I have to pursue. I will never be forgiven if I do not.”

“And what would you need to be forgiven for, Father?”

Crispin did not answer, but smiled sadly. “Alas, that is something for me and me only to understand. Thank you kindly for the food.”

“Yes, yes. Of course,” said Tom, humbling himself immediately.

Crispin smiled. “What are you looking so solemn for?! It’s far too beautiful of a day for such serious faces! You’ll get old faster!”

Tom was at a loss for words. He knew the Father rather well, but had never been able to deal with his unpredictable mood swings. And sure enough, with another glance at him, Tom Taccoma found that Crispin was onto the next thing.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this food.

Bless the hands that prepared it.

Bless it to our use and us to your service,

And make us ever mindful of the needs of others.

Through Christ our Lord we pray. Amen.”

Though Tom was not eating, he responded. It was just something Crispin made you want to do. A sort of power he had over people, you could say. His voice, his words, and the delivery of those words, they were compelling. “Amen.”

And with that, Crispin dug in. He didn’t eat delicately, but rather shoved most of the sandwich into his mouth, all at once. He certainly didn’t waste time. Tom left him to enjoy what was left of his sandwich in peace. It didn’t take Crispin long to finish, but he remained in the deli for a while, thinking. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the “Gallant Horseman.” Why had he not searched out his story? He chased myths and rumors of all sorts, and yet…something scared him about this one. 'Not surprising…I get scared by a lot. Yet…here I am chasing werewolf hunters. What kind of life would that be for me? I’m sure even the toughest guys on the team get frightened sometimes…’ He shrugged the thought away and went on to think about the apartment he was supposed to visit. He had seen a picture; the person who had told him about the place had given it to him. Come to think of it though, that man looked a little less than honest. But still…

Crispin rose and left the deli, thanking the Taccomas on the way out.

[Sinister]

“Do I bore you?” The man asked, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and snuffling. Olivia Bell’s chocolate frizzy head was resting on her desk, without any of the the tell-tale signs of life. Her hands masked her pretty features.

“Always.” She said, her voice not carrying it‘s deadpan tone much farther than a few feet. “You always bore me, Cal.” She said, straightening up. Her eyes, scissored into non-plussed razors. “You’ve bored me for a grand portion of the ten years I’ve known you.”

“I could always take my talents elsewhere.”

She cocked her head to the right in agitated disbelief. “Where they appreciate you?” She asked, mockingly. She pointed her sharp index fingernail at the door. “Just you get the hell out of here and when you have something to report, then come back.”

The man rose and ambled his poorly-dressed self out the office door. As if it were waiting, Olivia’s office phone rang as soon as the office door slammed. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip. A vein was starting bulge in her temple. She snatched the phone up.

“YES?” She strained. A silence blistered through the phone line, even Olivia felt it. Her mood changed and a shiver ran up her spine.

“There has been a murder.” An audio-altered voice replied. Such a simple statement and the ridiculous booming voice said it so bluntly, that at first, Olivia didn’t know how to reply.

“Yes?” She said, tinting it with innocent curiosity. “And to whom am I speaking?”

“A friend.” It said simply and fast. “I won’t waste your time. You’ll be reading it on front pages soon…”

“I don’t-”

“It’s only a matter of time. I suggest you prepare yourself.”

The phone clicked forcefully and Olivia sat staring at the receiver. She set it down on the set and pressed the intercom.

“Give me Cal Kissinger and tell him to bring several copies of latest papers. Also see if you can find out who just called this office, check the local operator site.”

[Dimi]

Bored and tired from hearing Michaelo nag over spilled coffee all day, Marco had decided to turn on the radio in the car to tune everything out. As Marco was changing stations, nothing seemed to interest him at all. Just as he was about to change the station, he had heard an announcer state that there had been two females brutally murdured at Chesire Park earlier. There was really no connection but just hearing the word "murder'" had brought up that memory of his mom in his head. Just thinking about how everything had happened as he was driving made him really think about it....

"No point in dwelling on it." He said to himself. "What's done is done and there's nothing I can do about it."

Soon, he finally reached the apartment complex. He decided to park in the parking lot down Section B2. He got out of his car, locked his doors and was walking towards his apartment. He decided to take the elevator to the fifth floor where his place was located. A few minutes later he walked out of the elevator and started to walk towards his place. He went inside his pocket, grabbed his keys, unlocked the door, and went straight to bed.

*THUMP*

"What the hell was that?" Marco had said to himself. He got out of bed and walked to the other side of the room to turn on the light. The lights wouldn't go on. He walked towards the window to look outside. Oddly, everyone else had lights on. Confused, he went out of his apartment to see if his neighbors were having the same problem...


*BOOM*

The ground started to shake with uprising roar. The screams of children could be heard down the hall. Looking up, little fragments of the ceiling were starting to fall. About a few seconds later the entire place filled with lights had shut out.


"Something's not right." Marco has wondered. As he had started walking toward Jerry's apartment, he could feel a sinister presence lurking. Closer and closer. Each step he was taking. He had this feeling that something bad was about to happen...

[Aerif]

There was a television in the elevator, high-definition display with a 17 inch screen, it would normally be sold in high-end electronic shops for $190, and that was just so that the inhabitants of the 99th Street Apartment could find out the current state of affairs within the world as they rode up to their floor. Currently it was detailing the deaths of two young women who where found in Cheshire Park, the story had grabbed Madeline’s attention and she had time to watch the report as she rode up to the 25th Floor.

When the elevator came to a halt, she made sure to take the key card from the card reader before entering the apartment, the doors weren’t designed to open until the card was removed, however an inconvenient delay would not be appreciated by Madeline. So she was extra careful to remove the card as soon as the elevator reached her desired level.

The apartment was luxurious to say the least, there was a large living area, a kitchen area which wasn’t often used, three bedrooms and an assortment of other rooms that Madeline didn’t spend a lot of time in. When she exited the elevator she walked directly to the telephone (wireless and expensive, of course) and entered one of her varying speed dial numbers. The person on the other side of the phone answered immediately,

“Hello Madeline, what do you require?”

“I need invitations sent out, I plan to hold a party tomorrow night, well, more of an information gathering event. I trust you have seen the recent Cheshire Park incident?”

“Yes of course, I caught the report on several stations, particularly on Television number 829.”

“Which is…?”

“News-365, reported by Jonathan ‘John’ Brookes ”

“I need you to send out an invitation to Mr. Brookes and the investigating team placed on this case. Specify the start time as being 6:30pm and the end as simply being ‘late’, I’ll need to take as much time as possible to get any information on this case.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ll need you to send out invitations to the mailing group listed as ‘conversationalists’, the party will look much less suspicious if there is a flow of conversation.”

“And do you have any set theme for the invitations?”

“Tell them… They where entered into a competition to meet a local celebrity. Easy as that”

“Alright, I’ll send the invitations out at once.”

She replaced the handset and entered her office, though she had most clerical work taken care for her, she had still installed an office within the apartment, partly for internet access, but also to hide a more forbidden secret. The walls where lined with an assortment of televisions and photographs, behind one of these photographs was a switch. This switch was the reason that the office was kept locked at all times, as when pressed (an action that Madeline was doing at the moment) it revealed a door that allowed entry into a private room. The room was filled with electronic equipment and a small lab was in the corner, equipped with Bunsen burners and varying chemicals. There was also a small library, and in this library Madeline shelved her most recent buy. There was no need to stay within the secret room tonight, so instead Madeline chose to go to bed. When she woke up the invited would be receiving their invitations.

[Violet]

The stench of sweat and liquor filled the bar's smoky atmosphere. Saturday nights were always crowded with every loser in Corentine slums. It was Kay's duty to prevent any fist fights from happening aside from being bartender. He was currently cleaning a small wineglass with "Roog's" embedded into its surface. While several more had to be cleaned, there were more customers that needed tending to. Across the room was the usual rowdy group who were currently playing a game of poker. The jukebox in the corner could hardly be heard over all the noise. An old man handed Kay his glass, asking for some more brandy. He was a common customer, always wearing the same clothes and expression. Apparently, alcohol was the only thing he could afford or spend his money on. Being a bum didn't give him a whole lot of options. As long as everyone acted accordingly to the rules, Kay didn't care who was customer.

As he swept the counter down, Kay noticed how quickly the day had passed by after glancing at the nearest window. Another hour, and he would head for home. Just as he was about to serve another customer, someone's mug went flying past him, shattering the glasses on the wall. The laughter at the poker table had stopped. Kay looked towards the two guys standing, ready to rip each other apart. It appeared that one of them was bad mouthing their opponent throughout the game, causing the guy to snap. This kind of stuff always happened on Saturdays, so it was to be expected. Kay rolled up his sleeves and went over to them. When they began to slug at each other, the rest just gathered around to root for them. Cards and bits of glass were scattered all around the table on the cement floor. The guy who started the fight was chunkier and shorter than his opponent. He reached for the nearest chair, ready to break it over the man's back. Kay shouted for them to stop, pushing into the center of the commotion. Being slightly taller and broader than both men, he was noticed right away.

Roughly taking the chair from the man's hand, Kay placed it back on the floor, glaring at the two troublemakers. "I want both of you to get out of here. We don't tolerate with this sort of behavior." They scowled at each other for a few seconds before getting their stuff together. Everyone went back to whatever it was they were doing as Kay followed the two to the door. Afterwards, the room wasn't as rowdy, but the noise wouldn't completely quiet down. Kay ran a hand through his thick black hair as he surveyed the mess that was left for him to clean.

++++++++++++++++

Saturday night was cold and cloudy with no moon in the sky. Amanda just finished grocery shopping for her mother and was loading everything into her jeep. Closing the lid, she paused for a brief moment to take in the atmosphere. Over in the corner of the shopping square was a few clothing stores and a pizza place which were closed. The parking lot was barely lit up and few people were present. Amanda knew it was foolish to stand in a half-empty parking lot alone at night, so she returned to her car. Waiting for a few pedestrians to get out of her way, she drove onto the road and headed towards home.

Instead of taking the usual way, Amanda tried out one of the back-roads behind the park where the crime scene from the other day took place. She had been looking up all sorts of things relating to the incident online earlier in the morning. Just the idea of being alone in that place past nine o'clock sent her chills. There were other unsolved cases that took place in the very same parts, such as disappearances. The whole park stretched from the slums all the way to the edge of the middle-class area. Further in led to the nearby mountains bordering the northern wall.

The road that Amanda drove on was a little bumpy from lack of re-pavement. To the right was a school and some decent housing complexes. The path was covered with trees on either sides, making it hard to see the park. Just as Amanda reached over to turn the radio on, someone walked out in the middle of the road, followed by a leaping shadow. It all happened to fast when she jerked the steering wheel too far to the left. Her jeep crashed into the iron fence aligning the park, causing Amanda's head to hit the side window. The last thing she remembered were two glowing green eyes and the sound of her vehicle flickering on and off.

++++++++++++++++

After Kay had left the bar, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket for his cellphone. There were two missed calls from Reiger, his roommate. The messages he left behind were about the news and the killings in the park. Kay had listened to it earlier, unsure of what to think. If it was what he thought it was, then it would be bad news for Corentine. Slipping into his jacket, he snuck around to the back of Roog's. It was extremely dark there with nobody around except for a dumpster. Across the ways was the park, also quite empty at night.

Kay leaned against the brick wall, popping a quick cigarette through his lips. The faint sound of traffic could be heard from the busier streets some blocks away. Puffing his last smoke, he flicked the cigarette into the garbage can. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced around again to see if there was anyone watching him. Once he was convinced he was alone, Kay took a deep breath. Crouching to the concrete like an animal, he clutched both fists to his chest. Hair began to grow longer throughout his skin as his figure began to take the shape of a four-legged animal. His clothes slipped from his body once the transformation was complete. Now standing in his place was no longer a human, but a wolf covered in black fur. His eyes were vividly green and a long tail protruded from above his rear.

Taking a few casual steps, Kay gathered his clothes between his newly sharp teeth and swung it over his neck. After a few more careful glances, he bounded into the park. It was his faster way of reaching home when he didn't use his motorcycle. Although it was risky to being caught, Kay knew how to avoid human eyes by using bushes and trees to his advantage. As he neared the road where he would have to cross, Kay noticed two headlights approaching. In the road stood a human with the scent of his own kind, mindlessly staggering and also unaware of the approaching vehicle. If the man didn't move anytime soon, he would get hit. Acting rashly, Kay leaped onto the pavement and dashed into the stranger, knocking them both to the sidewalk. The vehicle had crashed badly into the fence, glass shattered everywhere. Kay took that time to transform back into a human, dressing his body as quick as possible. The stranger was on the ground and Kay could smell the alcohol emitting from his clothes.

"Not very smart of you." He frowned at him. Walking over to the crashed jeep, Kay opened the door to see if the driver was alright. It was a young woman with long blond hair dressed in sweatpants and a camouflage top. A trail of blood leaked from her pale forehead where her head had hit the window. Kay felt her wrist to see if there was any signs of life. Sure enough, there was a small pulse. He didn't ask the drunk for any help and began to dial for an ambulance.

[Furore]

As Kurt staggered along the road towards a wealthier part of Corentine, he noticed the headlights of a car coming towards him fast. Something closer hit him first though. As he tumbled to the floor he heard a man's voice.
'Not very smart of you.'

Kurt got to his feet slowly, unable to keep balance.
'What the **** man...' He half tripped, and then looked towards the man. The man was looking into the remains of a crashed jeep. Kurt noticed the man who'd shoved him out of the way didn't look all that wealthy.
'Ahhh thaankksshh mate. I owes ya one.' Kurt continued whilst chuckling. As the man stayed with the jeep, Kurt kept going onwards. He needed some cash, and fast.

As Kurt finally entered the park he tended to prefer, he brushed some broken glass from his faded dark green military jacket. He found a large bush he'd used before and removed his clothing before hiding it well. As he transformed into his wolf form, Kurt's eyes flickered, his broad shoulders grew broader still and he grew a couple feet taller. As he dropped from standing on two feet to standing on all four, he grinned, the alcohol effecting him much less.

The moon glinted off both the earrings in his ears and his wolf eyes as he saw his prey. Another werewolf, he knew by the smell, and one who seemed to have an aura of wealth about him. He stalked the man carefully before running the last few feet. As he tackled the man he used his weighty right foreleg to smash the back of the man's head.

Kurt was about to transform back into his human form to loot the man, when the man stirred. He glared at Kurt and roared before transforming into a werewolf himself. As his wolf opponent came at him, Kurt came fast back at him. The man's roar may have been noticed, and any attention received as a wolf was bad. No natural wolf or any other similar creature grew up to 8 foot high...

Kurt growled as he felt the his opponents powerful jaws close to the back his neck. He headbutted his opponent, sending him a couple feet away. He pounced, right forepaw crashing down. Kurt's prey shuddered briefly from the impact before once again resuming shape as a wealthy looking male human. Kurt also resumed his human shape, and the human hands that went with it. He searched the man's things, most of which were scattered around the area when the man transformed. Kurt found a leather wallet with a few hundred dollars in it, and threw out the man's cards. He also swiped the man's watch, a rather expensive looking piece.

Kurt went back to the bush, threw on his clothes and then half dashed back along the way he'd come to avoid any further trouble. The bourbon wasn't effecting him so much now, and he found he had more of a hangover now than the effects of the alcohol. The first thing he'd do when he returned to the area containing the car yard would be to buy some more booze. The money would last him at least a couple of days...

[Sinister]

Olivia Bell brushed her creeping hair back from her eyes. They were sharp powerful eyes that gauged true will. They blasted distaste and sober worry upon black and whites crime scene photos that littered her desk. She had stared at them for a good hour. Behind the stare her brain was humming it’s steady train of thoughts. The bodies were unmistakable. Even a two-bit dumbshit gumshoe would know that this wasn’t a natural murder.

“This is a nightmare.” She breathed, crumpling one of the photos in her hand. “What an egregious breach in all our hard work.”

She saw a sum total of two acceptable options. Subreption being the first. She could tell the old man, force-feed some fairy tale about zoo animals and pursue the murderer. As pleasing as the idea was to the wishful thinker, she just couldn’t expect reasonable suppression. And even then…the façade would be a pitiful one to those in the know…they would see past any escaped animal smokescreen she could invent.

The last option… She could come clean to Bennet, but other than to upset things it would do little good. The real option… The one that tugged at her thoughts, causing them to unravel like a ball of bloody yarn., she could pursue the murder and not the murderer. They could advance plans by years and break Ragnarok down around this city’s ears. As much as she had fallen into the habit of this shadow existence…this idea appealed to her. She felt the excitement of the idea coursing through her.

magnificence…We would raze Corentine in flames. Biting fear and death. The day of reckoning, brothers and sisters of all clans, all we need is the power to unite. Skyscrapers decked and garnered in human guts. The Apocalypse. Power and Death brought by tooth and claw.

Olivia stared down at her hand, grasping the crumpled photo. There was a hand, but she saw a beautiful slim gray paw studded with jagged claws.

Real freedom, that’s what this murderer wanted. That’s why the call. She looked at the gory disjecta membra of the victims and felt that thrilling verve rise in her. He’s calling us out. Once again there is blood, gore and murder. Her eyes closed. She felt physically aroused, her hands curled around the photo as if it were a human child’s unconnected head, she felt her free hand caress herself fancifully. Screams sang in her ears and her eyes dazzled. A world lit by a blood red sunset and serenaded with melodic howls. If only…oh, how she wished.

Her mind was far seduced from the bleak proposal of just alerting the old man and mounting another cover-up. There would be no cover-up. She didn’t yet know how, but she wouldn’t allow it. If it came to blows, she would kill Bennet. If she could dispatch her pure-blood parents in a single night, the far-too-old, far-too-weak leader of Garous would not stand in her way. But she couldn’t wreak havoc as quick as she wished. Proper timing in every ill-deed.

She would…report. Come forward with every detail and play it all out.


____________________________


“I’m becoming less and less interested in what you think is possible, is that perfectly clear, Berkenheardt? Find a reason. Find a way. Steal every micro spec of trace evidence they found and take it back to HQ. I want you to study ever angle of this murder and be fully prepared to recreate it. We have to fish for the police, once they find us they’ll swallow whatever explanations we send their way.”

She snapped the clamshell-model cell phone shut and dropped it back into her purse. Her left hemisphere of her brain was dialing through words she was going to recite to Bennet upon seeing him. Her right hemisphere was still picturing all the possibilities of total domination of all life.

“We’re here, miss Bell.” Said the driver.

Looking up, she saw Bennet’s draconian manse, wrapped in vines and bricked in red. A symbol of a great hierarchal power long since passed. But, by some glitch in the system, the next generation of power had yet to be recognized. She stared down at her long, sharp-nailed hand as it coiled into a fist.

She went to open the door of her limousine, but found that before her hands could reach the knob, it unlatched and swung open. Outside, holding the silver handle, was a handsome man with neat nearly-silver hair. His eyes shone a mystical hazel green. Dressed well in respectful formal attire. He leaned in and offered his hand.

Still lost in the man’s eyes, Olivia placed her hand in his and let him help her out of the car. She had never seen him before, or at least did not recall seeing him before(and she was perfectly sure she would remember). But he could only be Raymond Frost. Bennet’s adopted heir-apparent.

“Thank you.” She said, softly.

The man only bowed, respectfully. “Come with me, please.” He said, smiling mysteriously.

He led her through the many doors of the winding manse ending at Bennet’s door and left her with another bow. She stared at the doorknob, took a deep breath, turned it and plunged in.


Bennet lay upon the bed. His regal beard, accenting his aging, spotted features with a feathery white. He looked at death’s door, the hateful old man that he was. The reaper sharpening his scythe, the death clock winding down, the vultures swooping down, the church bell tolling…so very soon for Bennet.

Olivia bowed respectfully as he croaked for her to come close. Olivia revealed all, holding nothing back as the old man listened with mounting resentment. She smiled as she saw him stir in anger and distaste that the naive parts of her felt, only hours ago.

[Xeim]

”For thou didst cast me into the deep, into the heart of the seas, and the flood was round about me; all thy waves and thy billows passed over me. Then I said, `I am cast out from thy presence; how shall I again look upon thy holy temple?'!” – Jonah 2:3-4

Silhouette Street was about as run down as the middle class section of Corentine could get. Its sole residents were peeling old apartment buildings, which, apparently, were free of pests and had good plumbing. Their appearance, however, was far from appealing, and Crispin realized that anyone who lived here would have to be either very pressed for money or out of money all together. Well, and too arrogant to live in a place with pests and bad plumbing.

Crispin looked down at the address scrawled on the piece of paper he had been given. “188 Silhouette Street. Apartment B-13,” it read. He quickly found that Number 188 was at the end of the unpaved, unkempt street. Upon his approach, he also found that Number 188 was an old, brown building, with what looked like a horrible sunburn. Peeling paint had spread like a plague, and Crispin wondered if the building was brown because it was supposed to be, or if it was because the paint had peeled just that much, revealing the wood underneath. He took a deep breath. ‘ What have I gotten myself into? Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh! Lord, please watch over me in this time of need…I really don’t want to be eaten by giant spiders!’ And with the addition of a small whimper, Crispin entered the dilapidated old apartment building- without guns blazing, obviously. That would just be unorthodox.

The inside of the building was- interesting. It was the very picture of a horror movie cliché, with spider webs clinging to every visible surface, and innumerable layers of dust coating the hardwood floor and stairs.

“How, is this…this...dump middle class?!” Crispin said in a loud whisper, and immediately regretted it. Upstairs, he heard a soft thump and a grunt, as if something up there was alive. Well, it was an apartment building; of course something alive would be up there. But Crispin, in the middle of a deranged fantasy involving evil man-eating spiders, did not allow that logic to reach him.

“Oh no, they’re going to eat me…I just know it! Oh no, no…I don’t think I’m quite ready to die…” He proceeded to grab the large, ornate silver cross that hung around his neck. It was inlaid with many small lapis lazuli stones, and held a diamond in its center. The diamond was no modest stone, either. Many people asked Crispin how he obtained such a valuable item, but he never responded to them. He had no need; his past was his own, and they wouldn’t like the story anyway…

Crispin’s attention was drawn back to the next floor. ‘You can do this Crispin…’ he thought to himself, and began to climb the stairs. His feet made barely a sound due to the dust covering, but that same covering made his visibility level wane. Soon he found himself blinking and snuffling several times per second, and was sure that any moment now this noise would give away his presence.

But he was soon standing at the top of the stairs, looking down an uncarpeted hallway lined with green, peeling doors and broken lights. The door at the end of the hall was opened slightly, and the voices beyond it made Crispin remember why he had come. There were no werewolves here! He had come to meet the Werewolf Hunters!

“Excuse me, good sirs!” He called out to the door at the end of the hall.

“Huh?” he heard a grunt, “What was that? Damain, go check it out.”

“Why me?” Came the low, slimy, yet somehow familiar drawl. “You do it, Eugene!”

“Damn, rat. Make me do all the work. You’re useless! Don’t know why I teamed up with you…” The voice faded into a low grumble, and Crispin heard footsteps approaching the door. By now, he was shaking in his skin again.

‘Oh no, oh no….this is worse than giant spiders!”’ Crispin took a step backward, ready to descend down the stairs and run out the door. ‘No, Crispin…you have to see this through. They’re human, they won’t hurt you….won’t hurt you..’

The man reached the hall, and it was too late to run. “Hey, lookie here, Damain! We’ve got ourselves a bit of fresh meat! A tender little priesty!”

“Uh…um…” Crispin started, and backed up a little more.

“Aw, you don’t have to talk, priesty! It’ll all be over soon…” said Eugene, as the other man arrived in the hall.

‘Oh boy.’ Crispin thought. For the second man was none other than the one who had given him this address and told him he’d find hunters here.

“Aw lookie here!” Came the man, Damain’s, slimy drawl once again. “It's the priest I found on the street the other day!”

“You know the preisty?” asked Eugene.

“Met him in town the other day. Tricked him into comin’ here. But I didn’t think he’d be so stupid!” The two men broke into incontrollable laughter at this point, providing Crispin with an opportunity to escape. But, as soon as he made the move, Eugene was right upon him. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and put himself between Crispin and the stairs.

“Now, now priesty, let’s not get feisty.”

‘This is it. I’m a goner. Oh lord, forgive me for all of my sins. Please, please, I want only to be your faithful servant and-’ Whack. It looked like the kind people were going to beat him around a little before they delivered the final blow. Crispin now lay sprawled across the floor, and was looking up at the ceiling hopelessly.

“You guys aren’t…hunters, are you.” Crispin said. Though it had the makings of a question, his monotonous tone made it sound more like a statement than anything else.

“Hunters? Are you kidding me? We’re the real thing!” sneered Damain.

“We be the wolfies, priesty.”

“Oh.” The room was spinning, the corners of his vision going black.

Then a shot fired. Once. Twice. Damain fell, and Eugene screamed. Crispin turned his head, and saw a tall man in a tan coat aim a gun at Eugene. “God...?” Crispin whispered. But the man didn’t notice, and everything went black.

----------------+++-----------------

Two werewolves today. It was less than he had wanted, but as long as at least one werewolf was dying, he was okay. The first werewolf had fallen with his initial shots, but one was still standing. He aimed his silver plated pistol a second time.

“Please..please…” the werewolf whimpered. “I..m….s…so…”

But he only grunted and began to pull the trigger.

“I’m sorry! I won’t hurt the priesty!” screamed the werewolf. “Please, don’t shoot me!”

And it was over. The werewolf lay on the floor, silent and lifeless, as it should be. He looked down at the still figure of the black haired man who had been attacked. He checked the man for a pulse, and found one, beating strongly.

‘He must’ve just passed out from shock. But what in the world would a priest be doing in a place like this?’

The tan coated man took out his silver-colored cell phone and dialed the first number on his speed dial.

“Yes, it’s me. I’ve defeated the two werewolves. They had a human with him. I’m bringing him back with me, so get a room ready.”

“Room, why?” said the woman’s voice on the other end of the line.

“He…passed out.”

“I see. I’ll get it together right away.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful, Clancy.”

“Hm.”

Then the line went dead.

[Aerif]

The sound of a ringing phone brought Madeline Joyeux into consciousness, rather ungracefully. After all, she didn’t appreciate being awoken so early in the morning and she had been having a rather informative dream, the kind of dream she had had before writing her thesis at University, under the name of Louise MacThatcher, a name that held a high-ranking qualification in chemistry.

“Who is this?”

“Jack… Don’t you use the Caller ID I had installed for you?”

“Is there a problem with the invitations?”

“I’m afraid it’s slightly more serious than that.”

Madeline sat up in bed, she peered at the clock, it was 2am.

“What? Has Mr. Brookes died or something?”

“Maddie, this has nothing to do with your party! Though it could effect who attends.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there was a security breach at Cheshire Morgue.”

“Somebody broke into a morgue? Wait, I think I know where you’re going with this…”

“Exactly, the bodies are gone.”

She was wide awake now, and already getting dressed into khaki trousers and a dark t-shirt along with a pair of silver earrings.

“Any sign of activity from the ‘others’?”

“I doubt it. None of them are quite as efficient as I am! Well… There is an exception.”

“Don’t start Jack!”

“Alright, alright! I won’t play games with your tender heart.”

“Shut up, Jack!”

“OK, OK…”

“How far away is Cheshire?”

“About… Five miles”

“That’s five minutes if I use the underground road.”
“Actually, looking at the CCTV, I reckon you could make it in two and a half.”

“I’m smiling now.”

“I know you are, baby.”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning, probably after mass.”

“Good luck.”

She was now wearing combat boots and a beret to compliment her look. If there was a chance that she was to be seen, she at least wanted to look good.

In less than a minute she was standing in the elevator, cradling a sniper rifle in her arms descending down to the basement, however when the seven segment display showed ‘B’, instead of leaving the elevator she allowed the doors to close once more, then held down the button that displayed ‘B’ whilst inserting her key card.

The elevator descended further, and eventually she exited into a large underground car park, the cars down here were all unlocked, and she entered a sports car that was capable of doing twice the speed she needed.

Two and a half minutes later, in the Cheshire area, a garage door opened and a sleek sports car exited it, carrying an heiress, carrying a gun. The in-car phone went off and once again Jack and Madeline were in conversation.

“You know, it’s nice to have five minutes to myself Jack.”

“And do you have any idea where you are supposed to go from here?”

“Of course not!”

“I guess that’s the closest I’ll get to an apology out of you.”

“You know me so well!”

“Well actually, satellite images show that…”

“Yes…?”

“Erm… Nothing, I’m sorry Maddie but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“Then what the hell was the point in calling?”

“Force of habit, I guess.”

“Wait, I smell burning, I’ll call you back.”

The smell was coming from a land-fill site, so she parked nearby and entered the filthy place. There was a large sheltered building that was used to keep some of the filthiest rubbish out of the rain. She climbed the ladder on the side of the building and perched herself upon the edge of the building, there was a large bonfire, and two figures were burning the stolen bodies, destroying the evidence. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure out who was burning the bodies. Werewolves.

She aimed carefully with the specially adapted sniper rifle; the bullets were made of pure silver and could reach a range of over one thousand metres. The first bullet entered the back of the head of the tallest wolf, he fell immediately, dieing without having any clue as to what had happened. The second one went down just as easily.

With both wolves down she approached the fire, throwing the corpses of the wolves into the inferno, to burn along with the bodies of the murder victims. She blessed herself and left the land-fill to return home.

[Violet]

“In all my life, there’s never been such a mistake. How can this be!?”

Grinding his teeth, Bennet’s eyes were widened with fury. The old man could barely move, but his expressions were enough for someone to tell how displeased he was. A soft breeze came from the large window next to his bed side, drifting throughout the dusty room. Standing in front of the curtains was Raymond dressed in a loose black shirt and black pants. His arms were folded as he surveyed the scene. The woman had a good composure, but it wasn’t enough to trick Ray into thinking she was only here to deliver bad news. His lips formed into a faint smile as his piercing gaze caught her attention. Olivia Bell -- it was the name that rolled off his tongue several times the other night as he surveyed his plans. She was the one who would fill that gaping hole in his plot and now she was within his reach. All he had to do was wait for that dreaded moment to happen.

Bennet’s face was crimson as he snarled at Olivia, blaming her for everything. Ray decided to stay out of it and let the old man belt out his anger. He had every right to be mad.

“If I wasn’t in such bad shape, I’d get rid of all you worthless slackers and get my own hands dirty!!!”

That last statement left the old man gasping for air. He clenched the satin covers on his bed as he tried to inhale. Olivia stood there very still, hands folded in front of her. It was a wonder how she could look so calm when the leader of her corporation was fueling out all his rage on her. Ray kept his eyes on Bennet who was now turning slight shades of purple. His hands fumbled to the sides of the bed as if he was searching for something. Ray realized he couldn’t breathe and quickly reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. Bennet fixed his eyes on the ceiling as Ray tried to pour the water down his throat. The old man began to panic when the water wouldn’t go down and knocked the glass out of his way. When Olivia went to pick the glass up, Ray motioned his arm at her.

“I’d like it if you left the room. He might calm down with you gone.”

She looked at Bennet who was grabbing hold of Ray’s shirt, then nodded and left.

“Old man, you shouldn’t react in such ways. You’re too old for this.”

Bennet was still trying to breathe, but to no prevail. He craned his neck to look Ray in the eyes as he grabbed onto his sleeves. Ray thought the old man was trying to say something, but there wasn’t anymore breath left in him to utter the words. Within five seconds, the old man let go of Ray and crumpled back to the bed, eyes and mouth still open.

It was silent as Ray stared down at the lifeless body of the man that had raised him. However, not a single tear shed from his eyes. He would miss Bennet, but now he could move on to bigger things. Ray hid the old man’s body under the covers and walked over to the window. Before closing it, he observed the clouded skies hovering over the populated city. Soon, all of this would be his. Turning around, he could hear Olivia’s footsteps outside of the room. Having not forgotten about her, he went to open the door. At first, he didn’t say anything and just stood there watching her. Then she looked at him questioningly.

“He’s dead.” Ray muttered.

He didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes as he spoke those two words. Closing the door behind him, he slowly walked to the leather chairs against the wall. It was a large corridor with a dark red carpet rolled from one end to the other. The doors to all the rooms were made of cherry wood, complimenting the subtly yellow walls. Small lights hung on either side, offering enough light for when it was dark. Feeling her eyes in his back, he turned around to meet her gaze. The silence must have been unnerving to Olivia, for she spoke up to break the tension.

“You are Raymond Frost, correct?”

He nod his head. “Yes.”

Another long silence. Ray sat in one of the chairs, placing his hands in his lap as he sized her up. She asked him another question.

“So, you are the new leader, then?”

Ray bit the inside of his lip. “Indeed. I believe that will be discussed later.”

Olivia nod her head and began to pace. What is she trying to get at? He wondered. She stopped and turned around.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be leaving th-”

“Receive any calls as of late?”

Ray swiftly cut through her sentence, and waited for her to piece things together. Her eyes widened.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



“Mom? Where is dad?”

Seven year old Amanda was standing at the kitchen’s entrance, eyes focused on her mother’s quivering back. She responded with nothing but sobs.

“What’s wrong?”

Amanda approached her and touched her back. Her mother sunk to the tiled floor, hunched over while covering her face. She heaved more sobs before acknowledging her daughter’s presence. Amanda was confused as to why her mom was crying. Holding her daughter’s face in her hands, Mrs. Josephine forced the words out.

“Your dad is... he’s dead.”

Amanda, smart enough to know what that meant, stared in bewilderment at her mother. The news was like hitting a brick wall. Everything started to shatter and the walls began to melt. Amanda’s eyes opened. The first thing that rung through her ears was her own pulse beeping. Her vision was blurred with the tears from her dream. Wiping her eyes, she looked around the room and saw that she was in the hospital. It was all very bland; the walls and tile were white and most of the furniture was tan.

When Amanda tried remembering how she got there, a throbbing pain started in her left temple. She winced, reaching for her head. Her entire forehead was wrapped in bandages.

As a nurse walked past her door, she began to remember everything. Last night when she was driving home, someone had stepped out in front of her car. The last thing she remembered was the bulky figure of a wolf leaping onto the person… then she swerved into the iron fence. Amanda heaved a heavy sigh. She would miss work for two days before going back and that meant less money.

Just then, the door to her room opened and her mom walked in. She was dressed in a purple jacket and black jeans, her blonde hair brushed back into a low ponytail.

“Oh Amanda. I was so worried when I heard the news. How are you feeling?”

She kneeled next to the side of the bed.

“Truthfully speaking? I feel like hell.”

Amanda’s mom touched her wrist, looking at the I.V. that was stuck there, then looked at her forehead.

“How bad was the injury?”

Amanda shrugged. “I have no idea, but it hurts like a bitch right now. I doubt plain old ibuprofen will numb it up.”

Her mom glanced at the door and began rummaging through her brown purse.

“Did you have anything to eat?”

Amanda bit her lip. “I’ve been out cold since the accident... so no.”

“Well, I have an energy bar if you’d like to have it.”

Her mom handed her the bar and Amanda gladly accepted the offer. She wolfed it down in less than 10 seconds, laying the wrapper on the nightstand next to her.

“That stuff is pretty good when you haven’t had anything to eat for almost 24 hours. Thank you.”

She snickered. Amanda’s mom nod her head.

“I believe you’re going home today, but you can’t return to work so soon. I asked the nurse on the way up.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Amanda stared at the television across from her bed. A documentary on wild dogs was being displayed on the Wild Habitat channel. It reminded her of the wolf she saw the other day.

“Well, Amanda. I’ll go get a nurse to help you out of here. Your car is in the shop, so I’ll be driving you.”

Amanda watched her mom leave the room, then leaned her head against the bed frame, thinking of last night as she waited.

[Sinister]

Olivia's mind gave a satisfying pop as it fitted the pieces together. The man standing before her was a murderer, THE murderer. Cheshire Park. A dangerous man. But why the phone calls? He was establishing a connection, a liason with the Dark Lantern front. But why her? He must have wanted someone to support his claim to the company. The thoughts gurgled up and replaced shock causing her eyes to shrink and surprise to fade from her face.

"Interesting…" She took a moment of calculating thought. A new leader now…no more subtle farces that have nothing to do with being a werewolf. Time to show where her loyalties lied. She turned and saluted Raymond Frost. "Your orders, sir?"

Tapping his fingers against the armrest, Ray closed his eyes to ponder the question. The faint sound of a clock ticking down the hallway could be heard. It was still light outside and a little cold. Olivia's cooperation wasn't expected to be so easy. The question was pleasing to his ears. He opened his eyes. "Find me four of the best members from our organization. I'd like to demonstrate a few things before we get down to business."

"At once, of course." She smiled. "I think I have just the four in mind." Her mind blinking with the names of four subordinates. Going through lists of goons. Not him, but him or him…ect…

"Spare no extra second." He said.

Olivia snapped around and took for the door, leaving him standing there, staring distantly, watching after her. She made straight for the limousine. The chauffer had his hand ready to gesture her into the car, as if it were a necessary step. She pushed her way past him, ruffling the ridiculous suit he was wearing.

Her hand went for the cellphone in her purse. It flipped open promptly, too afraid to disobey. Her fingers played with the buttons for a moment before she pressed the cellphone against the side of her head. The dial tone played like the allegro first movement of what would be…if nothing else a bloody composition.

"Ambrose? Shut the hell up and focus, Ambrose. Do exactly what I say. Have Emory Dawes, Lance Berkenheardt, Dagny Rooks and Virgil meet at the Bennett Manse in half an hour. Tell them I don't give a shit about rush hour traffic, police cars or rampaging zoo animals; I expect them to be here in thirty minutes. And yes, there are animals loose. Dangerous ones. I just found out."

Olivia snapped the phone closed and looked back up at the manse with a smile.

Her mind went over her cross-section for Frost. Dawes was a hulk, benching a company best and most likely world record of seven hundred pounds. Berkenheardt was a sluth fully equipped with stealth and a keen penetrating cognition. Which made up for the fact that he was rather scrawny. Dagny was a femme fatale and a close friend of Olivia's. Dagny had speed to a fine practice. And Virgil…Poor insane Virgil. Not even Dawes could control Virgil with a leash and a whip, once he had been set to destruction.

Olivia had her basics covered, whatever happened from this moment on, would make an interesting day.

[Violet]

The second Olivia had left, Ray picked up his cell phone and began to dial. The ringing on the other line lasted for three rings before someone answered. “Hello, this is The Dark Lantern industries front desk speaking. Thank you for calling. How may I be of service?” Ray waited a few to gather his thoughts before responding. “This is Raymond Frost, head of the company. I have a few requests to make.” The lady on the other line seemed appalled.

“Y-y-yes of course. Anything for you, sir.”

“Firstly, what is your name?”

“Michelle, sir.”

“How good are you at keeping note of things, Michelle?”

“Er..um.. It is one of my sworn duties, sir, and has been for the past 5 years.”
Ray twirled a loose curl that dangled at the side of his face.
“Ok. This is what I want you to do, then. Get a pen and notebook and write everything I say.“
The sound of file cabinets and rustling paper could be heard until she uttered a “ready”. Clearing his throat, Ray began.

“Bennet Frost, our former leader, passed away recently. There are funeral arrangements that need to be considered. I would like you to notify everyone within the vicinity of this grave news.”

Ray explained in detail of what had to be done and who they were to contact for the funeral. He went on for another four minutes until the discussion finished. With a click of his phone, he shoved it back into his pocket and stood. It was going to be a long day. Behind the double doors in front of him was Bennet’s dead body, rotting away for the past hour. The thought of shoving him in a morgue for three days didn’t sound pleasing, so he told his assistant to make things hasty as possible. It was the least he could do for the old man. Ray left the hallway and headed towards the main entrance. Upon entering, he noticed a small fire still burning in the hearth across from the doors. Incense placed in small jars decorated the mantel above. Next to the fireplace was a vase with pokers and other tools. Although they were utilized for stoking the fire, Ray sought them for other certain needs.
As he pondered the idea of partaking in acupuncture, his cell phone rang. To his satisfaction , it was Olivia.

“Hello, Mr. Frost? I’ve gathered the men you asked for. The only thing we need now is your next orders.”

Ray walked over to the doorway, peaking out the window at the side. “Tell them to wait for my arrival in the lobby. I’ll be there shortly..” The woman was quick with commands. He decided she’d prove very useful in further plans. Grabbing his keys, he headed for the shiny black Eclipse(one of many expensive cars he owned) parked in the driveway.

It took him 20 minutes or less to arrive at The Dark Lantern’s headquarters. It was a tall building that loomed over a few one-stories, but it wasn‘t anything too flattering. The main idea was so it wouldn’t stand out as to attract the attention of unwanted guests. Four men sat on benches inside the entrance. They weren’t exactly what he would consider inconspicuous. Those who were simple guests were glancing back at them nervously, afraid that one small move could cause chaos. The second Ray had stepped inside, everyone turned their heads. His clothes were black and his hair a platinum blond. The shadows under his fiery green eyes made him look menacing. With casual grace, he stepped over to the group of four, facing them without any trace of fear. The goons didn’t appear impressed.
Dawes was the first to speak.
“What are you looking at, priss?”

Ray ignored the disrespect in the man’s tone and spoke in his deep cutting voice. “I am your alpha, Raymond Frost. You will be working under me for as long as you live.” That wiped the smirk from Dawes’s face, causing him to appear slightly nervous. They all stood immediately after, bowing their heads. “Ready when you are, sir.” Ray gestured them towards his car after sizing them up. All the tension left the room with their leave.

Driving around the nearby neighborhoods didn’t find any appeal to what Ray was looking for. Three men sat in the back with Dagny in the front. The car moved slowly as Ray scanned the areas. The street they were on had potholes and wasn’t kept. There were bums surrounding trashcans lit on fire in alleyways, trying to keep warm in the slightly cold weather. The car came to a halt after another mile up the street in front of what looked like a junkyard. There were a few piles of trashed vehicles stacked up on each other and loads of plastic bags and broken objects scattered about. Through the clearings, Ray could see a group gathered around a couple fires. Getting out of the car, he placed his hand on the hood, taking in the smells of the air. Past the vile scent of sour food was a mix of humans and wolves. Ray furrowed his brows in disgust, then ordered the men out of the car.

“Here it is.”
They looked confused, but didn’t question right away. Ray took a few steps towards the back entrance to the dump. “A perfect example of corruption.” He turned his head to them, his mouth forming a thin straight line. “Destroy all of them.”

[Xeim]

The moment was very sudden. One second Crispin was lying peacefully on a bed in a strange room, and the next he was sitting upright with the room spinning uncontrollably around him. The inevitable pain of such an ordeal was not something he was used to. Always quick to flee from danger, Crispin was just not used to waking up in such a fashion. The memories of the events he had suffered through, not long before waking up with a throbbing headache on an unknown bed, were blurred and foggy as if they had never happened. Crispin was happy to believe such a thing, but could not for the life of him explain this strange room.

The said room was very barren. It seemed to be more of a storage room than a bedroom, and though Crispin did not know it, he was right on the money with that. Boxes were piled halfway up to the ceiling in the left-hand side of the room. The bed was located on the right, underneath a small window that was covered by paper. The door was a tightly closed portal whose floor space was the only clear part of the left-hand side of the room. There was no lighting, and the little light the room did have crept its way through the papered window.

Crispin swung his feet off of the bed and planted them firmly on the cold, cement floor. By way of a quick scan, Crispin was able to make out the outline of something that vaguely resembled shoes, reached for them, and put them on. With that done, Crispin stood and made for the door.

-++++-

"No, no, everything isn't fine. We have a priest lying unconscious on a bed in the middle of one our bases. How could anything be fine?" grumbled a tall, red-haired man.

"Well, we could always tell him we're an organization that checks out run-down apartment buildings," countered a mousy brown haired woman with perfect teeth.

"Oh yeah," snorted the red-haired man. "We're going to tell him we were appraising the buildings with guns."

"Never know. Some pretty crazy ass organizations out there."

"Take a look around you."

"My point exactly."

"Tern, Risa, that's enough," mumbled a third voice. It was low, gruff, and heavy with wisdom acquired from age. The man was older, with graying hair and moustache. "We will merely explain to him the situation."

"Explain the situation to a priest?" exclaimed the spiky, red haired Tern, clearly exasperated.

"Clancy's word is law, Tern," Risa said, but frowned even as the words left her mouth.

"That might be so, but Clancy, this is foolish! The priest is going to think we're loony and is going to try to convert us with all that creepy priesty mumbo jumbo!"

"Don't use that word, Tern," Clancy said, and he looked pained.

"Mumbo jumbo?"

"No, priesty."

"Oh, sorry."

'There's just something...strange about that priest. I can't really put my finger on it. intuition, maybe?' Clancy sighed and put his head in his hands. It really was quite a predicament. But he couldn't have left a man of faith in an old, run-down apartment building like that. He wasn't devout, but Clancy was still a religious man. The older man's only option was to bring him back here. He couldn't carry him all the way back into the nice part of town, and he didn't quite trust any of the neighborhood's inhabitants.

"Maybe we'll try the apartment appraisal thing. Risa's got a point there..." Clancy said with a frown that rivaled Risa's.

"Well, it's better than explaining the situation to him," Tern sighed.

"Situation?" Was the comment that introduced the fourth voice. It was light and airy, but not exactly feminine, either. The inhabitants of the room turned and came face to face with a black haired, blue eyed priest who looked, despite his steady voice, scared shitless.

"Oh, it's nothing, nothing!" Exclaimed Risa with a grin.

The priest just frowned.

"What's your name?" Clancy asked.

"O-oh, Crispin Flynn, sir. I'm the head priest of the Church of Alessandra."

"I see. My name is Clancy Sven Lucian. I run this organization."

"Organization? What do you guys do?"

"On the surface, we don't do anything"

"So then uhm, how is it an organization?"

"He said on the surface, you ditz."

"Tern! He's a holy man! How dare you insult him like that!" Risa exclaimed.

"Oh no, it's quite alright, miss! I'll admit my comment was a bit poorly worded," Crispin chuckled as he waved both hands in front of his chest.

"We hunt...beasts."

"EHH?! I thought we were going with the appraisal story!" Risa yelled, and her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Beasts?" asked Crispin. He was slightly taken aback.

"See? I told you he wouldn't believe us! Now here comes the conversion junk..." Tern growled.

"It's not that I don't believe you...You'll have to forgive me, I'm just a little surprised. I'd never thought your base would look like this..."

"We are an underground...wait, excuse me?"

"Oh, it's nothing! I thank you for telling me this and everything, but I should probably be on my way now...

'Okay, okay...getting nervous...scary people! Very, very scary...I think they have things covered...bye bye werewolves!'

"No can do, Cross-Boy," Tern said, and grabbed Crispin by the collar.

"Oh....oh?"

"Mr. Flynn. Now that we've told you what we are, we cannot let you leave without first forcing you to vow secrecy." Clancy said.

"Oh, you know I will!" Crispin said, and started to laugh nervously.

'Werewolves...yeah...no...what was I thinking? I'm a loon! Should listen to Thomas! Should always listen to Thomas!'

"It's not as simple as that, Mr Flynn. You must be sworn into our ranks," the moustached man continued.

"Sworn into...? Oh no, sir, you see..I don't do very well with danger and werewolves. No thank you...!"

"Werewolves? I never specified the manner of beasts that we hunted."

'I knew there was something odd about this priest...was he seeking us out? But why in the world would a priest believe in something like werewolves?'

"Oh, so then you aren't the Werewolf Hunters Guild? Oh boy, have I gotten myself into a mess..."

"H-how does this priesty know who we are?!"

"Tern!!"

"Eeeeaahhh!" Crispin squealed and knocked Tern's hand off of his collar.

"Dammit, that hurt! Who knew Cross-Boy had some fight in him?"

"I uhm, don't like that word, Mr. Tern. My apologies."

"The werewolf we encountered earlier was using it," Clancy offered as explanation.

"Crispin, you are now a werewolf hunter."

"J-just like that? But..but wait! No! I-I don't-"

"You were chasing after us, yes? I'm not stupid, Mr. Flynn. So accept the honor and go back to your..."

"Storage room," Tern growled.

-+++-

He was Clancy Sven Lucian, leader of the Werewolf Hunter's Guild. He had once had a life, but now all he had was the guild. He made his living as a lawyer, but there was no longer any joy in the profession. All he cared about was taking down the supernatural.

Clancy had once been happy. He had once had a beautiful wife and son, but he had traded it all for the justice of his city. He wasn't appreciated by anyone except for his subordinates, since at the moment, the Werewolf Hunters Guild was nothing more than a group of vigilantes known to only its members. He supposed the government had probably caught wind of them by now, but they hadn't made any moves against them.

Mr. Lucian was currently sitting in a room in the Century Avenue Base, the base that he had brought the strange priest, Crispin, to. He was tired from the day and didn't feel like retiring to his mansion in the upper-class region of the city.

'I don't know why I did that, today. It wasn't very like me, and rash to be sure. But somehow, it felt like it was what needed to be done. There's just something about that priest...he has a story...

"He'll be about that age now, right? Maybe that priest reminds me of him."

He, of course, was Clancy's son. He hadn't heard from him in years, ever since the man had been, well, a little boy.

'Hmph. It's not good to think about such things. I have a job to do, a job I enjoy doing. And I'm going to do it until it kills me.'

Clancy lay down on his bed, closed his eyes, and quickly drifted off into sleep.

-++-

Crispin, however, wasn't having Clancy's luck. He was back in the box filled storage room and figured he probably would be for the next few days. Maybe.

'Oh my...fighting means using weapons! Taking lives! How in the world could I possibly do that? I mean, knowing the guild exists and wants to kill the werewolves is enough...Oh sure i though the idea of joining sounded cool, but I didn't think it would happen! And now...and now! I have to fight! Kill, even! And this is all probably three shades of illegal...Thomas is going to kill me...And, wait, wasn't today Saturday?!'

[Doc Rocco]

Annabelle gazed around the colossal wardrobe filled with hundreds of pairs of shoes. On her left were all the pairs she had worn so far this year, and on her right pairs not yet revealed to the public. Her eyes rested on a particularly stylish pair of black and white flats with a large silver buckle. She smiled as she recounted the story on how she got them. Originally they belonged to a werewolf Annabelle had hunted down. Before she disposed of the body, Annabelle had noticed the shoes and taken them.

“Letting them go to waste would have been a crime against fashion. They’re fabulous.” she said snidely.

Content with her choice, Annabelle pulled them out. A knock at the door and a voice.

“Annie! It’s me! Are you ready?” shouted her visitor.

“Come in Karen! I’ll be a little longer.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” chirped Karen.

Karen was a "friend" of hers who annoyed Annabelle to no end. Annabelle couldn't believe she had let her into the apartment. Not when she suspected her...

With that thought, Annabelle’s mind instantly went into overdrive. She had long suspected Karen of being part werewolf. And now she had her at her mercy in her own apartment. Karen adhered to the latest fashions as much as Annabelle did, yet she ignored the new trend of wearing silver. She always seemed edgy around people wearing the stuff, so Annabelle always made sure she had as much on as possible. She grabbed a few chunky necklaces and some silver bangles, and made her way into the sitting room.

“Hey Karen! You know what would set that outfit off? Some silver bangles.”

“Oh. Uhm. Really? Nah. I err… don’t like silver.”

“Don’t be silly. Silver is the hottest thing right now! Catch.” She coerced as she flung the bangles at Karen.

Karen screamed and dodged the item.

“N-n-n-not so hard!” Karen shrilled. “I’m not a good catch.”

“Here’s a loopy one then.”

Again, Karen ran from the item.

“What’s wrong Karen? Scared of silver? Afraid it might burn you?”

Karen’s eyes widened in horror. Her breaths became short and sharp. She made a dash for the door but Annabelle got there first and bolted it shut.

“I’ve been onto you for a while now Karen. I know your dirty little secret. Well, your great big hairy secret.” Whispered Annabelle, her voice full of malice.

Annabelle pulled off a necklace, pulled it taut between her hands and advanced on Karen. The terrified girl began to step backwards.

“Annie. Please. It’s not my fault! I hate it! Stop it now! PLEASE!” Karen screamed with trepidation in her voice. “Don’t make me touch it. I’m begging you.”

"What do you hate Karen? Tell me. I want to hear it." she hissed.

"I... I'm... part werewolf." Karen muttered, defeated.

Suddenly, Annabelle stopped by the mantle. She picked up a large, ornate silver candlestick.

“Isn’t this a lovely candle stick Karen? Solid silver. More than two kilograms in weight. It’s a fabulous piece.”

Karen just made a strange gurgling noise.

“Annie. Please.”

“Hmm.” Smiled Annabelle.

Annabelle’s faced dropped and became a cruel face full of hatred. The candlestick swung in the air with astounding force. It met with Karen’s head and struck. Karen crumpled and landed flat on the floor. Annabelle quickly set to work. Turned over furniture to make it look like a struggle. Messed her hair. Smashed a few objects here and there. Time was of the essence. She threw on a pair of gloves, grabbed one of her numerous hidden handguns and wrapped Karen’s hand around it.

“Karen’s fingerprints are a check. Now for its placement…”

She stood were Karen last stood, and dropped the gun. The crime scene looked authentic at last. She checked Karen for a pulse. Nothing. Everything had gone according to plan. Now all that was left was to call the authorities.

Annabelle dialled Emergency Services. That drama unit would come in handy at last.

“Hello. Corentine Emergency Services. What is your emergency?”

“My friend. She went crazy. I had to stop her. I... I… I THINK I KILLED HER!” wailed Annabelle.

“Calm down miss. What is your location?”

“Apartment 4. Opulen Apartments. Obible Street.”

“What services do you require?”

“Ambulance and police.” She whimpered falsely and hung up.

Annabelle assumed a position which made her look as though she was grieving by the dead werewolf, Annabelle waited for services to arrive. People were so easy to fool. ”Honestly. I could be an actor. I’d have people swarming all over me.” she thought to herself.

“Services. Open up.” They’d arrived at last.

She flung the door open, and shed false tears.

“Oh officer. She just went mad. She came in with her gun and was screaming things about being scared and hating me and I had to do something. So I hit her with that candle stick and now SHE’S DEAD!” howled Annabelle breathlessly.

“It’s okay ma’am. Self defence is lawful.”

The paramedics swarmed over the dead body. The deceased female was placed in a body bag and taken to the morgue according to the officer in charge. After what seemed like hours of interviewing and investigation of the scene services left. Annabelle closed the door and smiled smugly.

“One less mongrel for me to worry about.”

[Violet]

((Sorry if there's any errors. I was up really late writing this. I'll fix any mistakes later.))


Kay slammed the door behind him as he arrived home from work. The one-story three-bedroom house was in complete disarray. Clothes and dirty dishes were in piles and the very suspect was lounging on a broken-springed sofa, watching basketball. In his bartender clothes, Kay dragged his feet away from the entrance to the nearest night stand. The man on the couch turned his head, greeting Kay with a mouthful of yesterday’s Salisbury steak.

“How was work?” He forked another piece of steak in his mouth.

Kay remained unpleasant as he slammed a wad of envelopes in his roommate’s lap, making him flinch. He hit the surface of the nightstand.
“Reiger.” His voice was steady, but low.
“Two weeks worth of mail…including BILLS, stashed under the doormat. EXPLAIN!”

Reiger kept his mouth open, glancing at the television while holding a fork and plate in hand.
“Ummm…”
The sound of cheering roared from the television when the team scored a 3-pointer. Kay shut it off in frustration.

Reiger sighed, setting his plate down.
“I didn’t want you getting all stressed…”

Kay snorted, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“If anything, it’s caused me more.”

He took a seat on the couch, forcing Reiger to sit up.
“Well, like… the electric bill… I just knew it wouldn’t look pretty…”

Kay placed his head in his hands.
“But if you hide them, they’ll never get paid. They’ll keep piling up.”

“I thought I’d pay it off myself once I had the money. The last thing I want to deal with is you getting mad at me over my beloved television.”

Kay grumbled.
“I rarely ever get mad. But these are bills we’re talking about. I work every night to pay them off!”

“Okay! I won’t do it again. I promise. Problem solved.”

Kay shook his head.
“I hope you mean it this time.”


After a few moments of silence, Reiger flipped the television back on. It was dinner time and Kay was starving. Pushing himself up from the couch, he removed his coat and dropped it to the floor. Reiger seemed to be in his own little world of basketball once again.

As Kay walked into the kitchen, he noticed a few new holes in the pale-green walls. Reiger and Kay were a fairly rowdy bunch when they had one too many beers. Their other roommate, Pyria, usually hung in her room when the other two were acting wild. She was the more composed one of the pack. Kay opened the door to the refrigerator, hoping to find something juicy. There were more than enough bones stashed away in the compartments, as well as every pantry in the house. It was certainly an odd site if any human were to see the condition of their food supplies. Kay opened one of the sections and pulled out a rather large fish wrapped in plastic. He decided that it would be his meal and put it on the counter for preparation.

As he was fixing his dinner up, his mind shifted to the incident that happened a couple nights before. After he had called the ambulance, he transformed once again and leaped beyond the fence of the park so the paramedics wouldn’t see him. The girl had suffered a head wound from the accident, but he sensed she was alright. The only thing that continued to trouble Kay was if she would remember what she saw. If it wasn’t for that drunken fool of a wolf, the whole thing would have never happened. Kay threw the pieces of fish in a frying pan and left them to simmer. For some reason, Reiger had switched the channel to the news station . Kay leaned against the wall, staring at the television screen.

“Why did you change the channel?”
Reiger had one arm folded behind his head, the other holding the remote.

“The game ended. The team I was routing for lost. Heh, figures.”

Kay shook his head.
“That’s too bad.”

Reiger nodded, then suddenly turned the volume up.
“Did you hear about this?”

Kay leaned in closer, listening to whatever it was his roommate wanted to show him. On the screen, it was showing footage of a garbage dump which was not too far from where they lived. Several body bags were being rolled out onto stretchers into ambulances. The place was filled with smoke from the flames the firefighters had to put out earlier.

“At least thirteen victims were found at the miniature garbage dump of southern Corentine. After firefighters doused the flames, the bodies were inspected. The cause is still unknown, however, the victims were inflicted with strange beast-like gashes.”

They then switched over to another report regarding some school fundraiser. Kay had dug his nails into the wall as he listened to the previous report.

Reiger wore a grim expression.
“Hard to believe, don’t you think? Someone’s definitely starting trouble.”

Kay didn’t know what to say. Never on the news had they reported claw markings on bodies unless it was proven to be someone’s dog( which they would put down soon after). He gritted his teeth.

“They better find the runt that caused it. Otherwise, Corentine’s going under lockdown.”

Reiger raised his brow.
“Lockdown? What do you mean?”

“If too many of these killings got out of hand, the government would catch on. Then, they’d make it where nobody could leave the city until all werewolves were exterminated by hired hands.”

The thought sent chills down Kay’s spine. His worst nightmare was for the very thought to happen. Reiger sat staring at the floor in deep thought, thinking of the same things as Kay.

The two had known each other for five years. They met in the place that Kay worked at. Reiger had gotten into a fight with another customer who happened to be the ring leader of a few other wolves. If it wasn’t for Kay, Reiger would’ve become mince meat. Ever since, they had agreed in becoming a pack to watch out for each other’s backs. Soon after, Reiger’s girlfriend Pyria had moved in with them. If any trouble ever raised, they would work against it. Kay was a strong believer of equality and fairness. Unlike a lot of werewolves, he didn’t have any sorts of racial thoughts towards humans. It was why he could work as a bartender among both species. Some werewolves were prone to acting out of line when it came to anger. Kay knew how to calm them down before they got out of hand, as long as they cooperated. It was a difficult ask at times, but Kay insisted on keeping the peace.

At the end of their hallway was the bathroom. The toilet seat was up and there was no more toilet paper. As much as Kay wanted a maid to deal with their messes, it would be foolish to create more chances of getting caught. Besides, he didn’t have the money for one anyways. Kay unlocked the door to his room and stepped into its amazingly normal brilliance. There were a few jeans and socks scattered across the floor, but it was nowhere near as cluttered as the mess outside.

Kay removed his work clothes, stripping down to his navy-blue boxers. His skin was a decent peach tone, barely covered in black hairs. A few scars were embedded in his back from previous run-ins with violent characters; Some preferred knives over fangs. Pulling open his black curtains, he lifted the window to the top. A big gush of cool air blew in, airing out all the stuffyness. Kay breathed in all the rich scents while marveling at the view of the lights below the small hill. Looking out the window was always a breath of fresh air. He leaned against the sill, pondering in thought while examining the light of the red glowing tower off in the distance. How long would it be before chaos showed its face?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


The sound of the alarm clock shook the insides of Amanda’s head. She kept her eyes closed, furrowing her brows at being woken up from a very peculiar dream. She had been taking her weekly jog down the park before running into a stranger dressed in a brown cloak. They stopped her from proceeding, and forced a red rose into her hands. She tried getting a better look at who the person was, but the only thing she could make out were whiskers. The thought of the dream left her feeling puzzled, but she refrained from thinking about it as she went to get dressed. The pain in her forehead was throbbing as usual, but it was getting better. From head to toe she felt slightly fatigued, but it was from the lack of exercise she was so used to. It would be a good idea to go downtown and look around. There were sales she was missing out on that were probably being picked over right that second. Wearing a green shirt with boot cut jeans, Amanda slipped out the door before her mom could yell at her to get more rest. She laughed at the idea since she was a twenty-eight year old woman. Her mom tried too hard sometimes.

Living so close to the shopping area had its benefits. Amanda’s car was in the shop and she didn’t want to steal her mom’s car, so she decided to walk. The crispy air seemed to ease the pain in her head temporarily. There were a few others taking their morning strolls, but none of them were friendly enough to offer a ‘hello’. Amanda kept her badge tucked away in her pocket, even when she was off duty. It was good for when trouble rose in unexpected places. After some time, she finally reached the stores. The first thing to capture her interests was Coffee Express. It had been awhile since she had a decent cup of coffee. There were fewer customers when she went to order. The majority of them sat in the back of the place, typing away on their laptops. When Amanda received her tall coffee latte, she left the building. Benches were placed directly in front of the bookstore, which was going to be her next stop. Because drinks weren’t allowed inside, she decided to sit and finish her coffee.

A big burly man walked past her, shoving a woman out of his way. He was so hairy looking that Amanda could take him for a grizzly bear or wolf. She glared after him, disliking the poor behavior he had shown to the lady. She was a thin woman with long dark red hair that framed her face perfectly. She could have been a model if it weren’t for the green thick-rimmed glasses. The lady walked up to the door of the bookstore, and fumbled with the keys she held in her hand. She didn’t notice Amanda sitting there right away, and started when she realized she was being watched.

“I’m opening it now, so you can come inside whenever you please.”
She offered a quick smile before disappearing into the building.
“Quirky lady. Seems nice though.”
Amanda shrugged.

Tossing away her cup, she went inside. It was a very cozy yet stuffy place. Amanda had been here before, but later in the day with a different cashier. The walls were painted dark purple and the carpet was shaded gray.

“I’ve never seen you here before. You must not be much of a morning person.”
The woman observed Amanda with her hand curled under her chin, a faint hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Amanda rubbed the back of her head.
“Well, I’m usually working at this time. I don’t get to come here as often, being busy and all. Heh.”

The lady nodded.
“Fair enough. Well, I hope you find a book to your liking.”

“Thanks. I’m sure I will.”
Amanda went towards the aisles. She was under the Fantasy section, being one of her favorite genres. It was easy to tell which books were newer and older, as some of the spines looked worn. One thick red one stood out the most as opposed to all the black ones. Pulling it out to take a look, Amanda furrowed her brows at the cover. A pack of wolves were surrounding a dimly lit campfire in some cave with stalactites. It was painted really well and was captivating. It made her think of the animal she’d seen that had leaped out in front of her car that one night. It was a large wolf, very similar to the ones on the cover (according to what she could remember). To top it off, the title was “Legends of the Lycan”. Lycan was short for Lycanthrope, which meant half human and wolf. The idea played around in Amanda’s head until she realized she was being silly. It was most likely some wolf that wandered out of the park’s forest. Eventually, the city would find it and force it back to its territory.

Just as she closed the book to put it back, the bell on the door had rung when somebody entered. Amanda slightly leaned her head back when she heard male voices to get a better look. Two tall men stood around the cashier counter, talking to the woman. One had long black hair while the other preferred his brown hair cut short. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, nor did she care enough to eavesdrop. Putting the book back, she went to look for another. Walking out of the aisle, she went into the next row down. Before she disappeared behind the wall of books, her badge fell out of her back pocket. The button on her pocket had undone itself, making it easier for it to slip. She cursed quietly, crouching down to pick it up, then turned her head a little to see behind her. To her embarrassment, the black haired man at the counter was staring at her. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, so she couldn’t exactly tell what his expression was.

Trying her best to not notice, she went down the aisle and pulled out a couple smaller books wedged between two big ones. They were both part of the same trilogy that was about fairies and witches. It was one Amanda didn’t recognize. She began to get absorbed in the text as she flipped through the first few pages. Too distracted to realize, the man had walked over to her and was standing near her left side. She realized the aisle suddenly felt smaller and flinched when she saw him there.

He smiled.
“I’m trying to find a book. It was over here somewhere.”

Amanda nod her head, stepping away from the shelf to allow him to get in front. He lowered to the floor, searching the shelf for whatever book he wanted. His back was enormous compared to hers and was covered in a leather black jacket. It took him about a minute to find his book. As he stood, he glanced at the bandage that covered half of her forehead.

“How’s the wound?”
His voice was low and very clear. He sounded compassionate.

“I-It’s.. it’s healing.” She smiled, placing her hand on the bandage.

“That’s good. Hopefully it doesn’t leave a scar.”

“It just might. But it won’t be all too noticeable, I don’t think. Thank you for your concern.”
Amanda felt rude ending the polite conversation so quickly. The man’s presence made her nervous, as he was so much bigger than her and standing close. She could smell the scent of smoke and cologne. Just when she thought he was going to leave, he stopped in his tracks and skimmed through more of the books on the shelf. This annoyed her a little, as she was eager to be alone. She quickly reached for a random book on the shelf and pulled it out. To her dismay, it was a romance novel in the wrong section with two half naked pioneers of the same sex on the front. The man had looked over at the wrong time and saw what she held in her hands and couldn’t help but smile while raising a brow. Amanda’s face flared red and she quickly returned it to the shelf. Clearing her throat, she decided to forget about looking for books today and squeezed passed him, inching to the doorway. Quickly waving at the cashier lady, Amanda walked out of the store.