Quote from Indy on June 3, 2023, 7:45 pm

We didn't say much on the ride back. What else was there to say? Both a thousand things, and nothing at all. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting in meeting another werewolf, but not this - not this crawling sensation that maybe the best thing I could be doing right now was studying.

He dropped me off.  It was just before ten, with plenty of time to complete what I'd set out.  Somewhat awkwardly, I'd asked him where I could find him again and was given some number or rather. I took it without remark.

Maybe the best thing I could do was make it up to George for bailing out on him. Or more likely, figuring out the excuse I was going to use that wasn't "and I went on a car ride with the first werewolf I ever met in my entire life - you know, werewolf, men who turn into giant wolves every full moon. You know, like me"

Today, I was just Alexander Lazarov, normal college student that had just slept in his friend's car and needed a cup of coffee to get through finals week.

Quote from Adriana on July 3, 2023, 4:46 pm

I picked up a few more jobs. Funny, they seemed to be pouring in since I brought it up with the big dogs. They were all easy-most of them being to follow this person or that person, collect information.

But something was bothering me about the contract meeting. Not like, mildly annoying me. The kind of bother that kept me up at night, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I shouldn't have brought college boy with me - that was big mistake number one. Big mistake. I wouldn't do it again.

Besides that, it all seemed a bit too perfect. Conjure a contract out of thin air. Send a wolf to do a man's job. My original contact was MIA. The negotiations seemed to go well enough, so the upfront pay didn't match the assessed risk. The kid was human, but had a werewolf partner - also unnerving. Who were these people and who did they work under?

The contract was finalized on our end, and I'd have to meet them a second time to ensure all the i's were dotted and t's were crossed. I didn't want to go back. Everything in my gut said not to go back. But I'd already taken the job and not finishing my end of the bargain would definitely not be a good idea, either.

It was about a week since the first visit. I got a call-I needed to be at the same meeting point by this evening to finish the contract. My boss' weren't the kind of people you negotiated with.

I pushed the nervous thoughts into my belly, and then shoved them down further. I was overthinking it. I collected all the paperwork and some upfront payment due to our clients into a suitcase.

My stomach did a barrel roll. My instinct was a tangible creature now, gripping my shoulders, breathing down my back - sending every hair from the base of my spine to the nape of my neck on end, the sensation creeping down my arms in waves. That same instinct that had sent me running from home a few years ago.

You know this is wrong. You know something is wrong.

Except, skipping the country wasn't an option this time. My passport had expired, and all of my documentation was back home. I was an illegal citizen.

So, I shoved instinct away, got into the car, and began driving. I needed a paycheck.

Quote from Indy on July 3, 2023, 11:10 pm

Everything was back to normal, in that my entire world was falling apart and I was only propped up on a cup of coffee every hour.  Finals made it easy to forget whatever-it-was that had happened that night with Jack.  In the delirium of finals, I was half-convinced it was a dream anyways - because no way could something like that happen to me.  Even if I was what I was, what were the odds....

That I'd even passed my math final?  I was among the ranks of the zombies.  George had managed to fish me out of a library after I'd dropped off the face of the planet. We'd cobbled together something for the extra-credit assignment, but I hadn't brought together my section of the argument like I wanted to. I felt like death warmed over - except, death might have been a little smarter than whatever it was I'd slapped together. My mood was absolutely dire.

George ultimately cheered me up singing bad karaoke at midnight to a gathering of raccoons. My serenade of Lucky Star didn't seem to make much of an impression to the raccoon community, but at least I was something halfway resembling a human afterwards.  Giggling on caffeine-induced madness and the slightest reprieve from my exhausting study schedule, I promptly spent the rest of the night studying calculus in my dorm room and bemoaning if it was too late to change my major to a janitor.

The calculus exam came and went... and if I'd thought I was roadkill before, then I was something frozen and microwaved after. I felt hallow inside - and no matter how hard I told myself not to kick myself for how I answered part a of question 7 and all of question 12, I had a terrible feeling on my understanding of calculus. As it turned out, I wouldn't need to think too hard about crossing off Mathematics as a possible major.

Thus left my Chemistry, Roman History, and Anthropology Linguistics finals. The chemistry had me concerned - and although the Anthro course should be a cakewalk after all the time I had poured into it, that was the one I felt must pressed to do best at. Anyone could forgive a future anthropologist for a B in Calculus, but in his core classes it was frankly unforgivable.

I flopped into the well-worn grooves of the library chair, starring down my textbooks like they had all the answers of the universe... for not the third time that day, I felt a prickle at the base of my spine. Something unnerving, like someone was watching me... But when I glanced around, I only saw a girl silently crying over her P Chem textbook, two girls distracting themselves with a card game, and a bespeckled man glancing at his history textbook with the intensity of someone who might have actually experienced the war he was reading about.

Clearly, the finals-induced madness was getting to my head. And clearly, I needed to take George's advice for once and get some fresh air. I packed up my bag and shuffled outside. It was dark outside - or at least, dark to people that weren't me. The moon cycle was approaching, but still within a comfortable buffer from my last exam.  I could do this. It was only three more days and I could hibernate in for the winter.

I walked down the long, lonely road I usually took to head back to my dorm. Every now and again I'd encounter another student returning back from the late-night study session, although tonight was unusually deserted. No doubt many students had already wrapped up on finals and headed home. There was only one person behind me, and by the sound of his footsteps, he was in a rush to get home.

Again,  I felt a prickle at the base of my spine. It was nothing..... and yet, I couldn't shake it. I paused, glancing behind me to see the same kid that had been reading over the history textbook in the library. Nothing weird about that - he'd just head out the same time I did, and probably lived in the same dorm community.  Nothing weird at all, except the flash of a look he gave me when our eyes crossed and suddenly I was cold.

Cold,cold, something sharp along my neck like a knife. I lifted my fingers to swat the insect away, but instead felt a long feathered shaft. I kept walking - fast. But my thoughts were getting muddled and sloppy.  Why was I walking? What was I so concerned by?  Had George even passed his Thermo final, or was he sulking in the student pub somewhere...?

So went my thoughts, and then they went no more. I felt only my knees buckle, and something catch me before I hit the ground.

Quote from Adriana on July 3, 2023, 11:34 pm

I arrived at the cabin. I parked my car and sat there in the driver seat with my stomach in my throat, my heart in my head. Pounding. My head was pounding.

The flicker of the blinds, just enough light behind them to make out the shape of a figure. They knew I was here.

It was too late to turn back, and it wasn't. In front of me, a feeling of something being so wrong, I could cut into it with a butter knife. Behind me, certain trouble if I turned around without finishing the job. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I rolled what knowledge I did have around in my head - there would be at least one werewolf in there. A big one. But size didn't always matter - I was a pure blood, lean and lithe. I knew how to manipulate my body in ways the average werewolf might not-years of training before my first change, those few years after. The human adolescent might be armed. I'd disarm him first, go from there.

Unless there were more than last time.

Opening the car door, picking up the briefcase, adjusting own suit, staring at the cabin like I was looking at the gateway to my final destination.

Just like before, I walked up to the door. Just like before, I rapped a small knock. Just like before, the massive, muscle laden werewolf female opened the door with such cool control it both inspired awe and deepened my concerns.

Stepping in and going towards the table, I sat the suitcase down. Cool, composed on the outside. I'd always been good at that when it counted. Dates? Those were another story.

I opened the suitcase, began laying out the contracts in due order.

Something is wrong. What's wrong? Look around. Everything looks the same. It's all the same.

Quote from Indy on July 7, 2023, 6:24 pm

Something was remiss.  It was a subtle thing. It was the bespeckled boy was standing by the table with something terrible worn on his face.  If his expression previously had been like a proud child informing a teacher of their errors, than this was the selfsame child cackling victoriously through the halls as he rampaged a daycare. It was smug worn across his shoulders and oozing on the floor. He took the case and glanced through the papers seriously.

"Mmmm, yes, yes," he buried a grin, took the papers in hand, and tapped them loudly on the table.

It was the smell of cigars. Had it been there before?  It didn't smell recent, but something that had soaked into the wood and become as natural as trees in a forest. It was deep and ever-present.

The boy glanced to his companion.

"Well... pleasure doin business, now's where --"

His voice crumbled. There was a figure standing on the threshold. A third participant to the assembledge. For everything the young boy was, this man was not. He was age and wisdom boiled to its essence, a tree that walked in the form of a man. The lines of his face spoke of a life spent grimacing, frowning, and discerning. His eyes were light blue, a human-blue, but a piercing one nontheless that allowed nothing to go unnoted. His hair was pure white, but had not thinned as much might be expected with age and hung at his collar.

His gaze turned to Silas, surmising him in a glance. His face showed no expression.  Yet something was weighed and measured, a complex algorithm done in the span of a breath.

"There's been a change in the arrangement," the man said, and threw something to the floor below. It landed with a smack.

It was a bookbag. As simple as that- an unremarkable, grey bookbag. By the sound of it on the floor, it contained several heavy books. Yet it was not what was contained within, but rather what it smelled like that held the greatest importance.

Quote from Adriana on July 7, 2023, 9:06 pm

I had seconds to weigh the situation.

In front of me stood the ghost of a man. To my right, the kid. To my left, a hulking werewolf. She was calculating my options just as fast as I was, and was already taking a step in my direction. In front of me, a book bag - and by the scent, I knew exactly who it belonged to.

I checked for weapons. I didn't see any.

I should have left. Maybe I would have had a chance. I didn't.

Dropping to my hands, I sprung backwards on my palms, twisting and propelling myself under the table - quickly popping up behind the pimpled kid and catching him around his throat. By the time I was on the other side of the table, I had changed forms, but besides that, I had pulled my sidearm out and I had the muzzle against his temple. Already I was dragging him back to get distance between the gaunt phantom and the giant pit bull who was now staring me down with her ears pinned back and a growl on her lips.

"Where is the kid?"

Quote from Indy on July 8, 2023, 3:20 pm

The man did not move even as Silas moved. He was a leaf on the surface of a still lake. His actions did not concern him.

The young man tensed at his grip. Although Silas had moved more quickly than he had been expecting, certainly an attack like this hadn't gone unprepared for. Even as Silas had the gun to his temple, his fingertips reached for a small sachet in the inner pocket of his vest.  Right when the cold metal gently touched his skull, he crumbled the packet in his hands until it burst open.

It was a cacophony of smells between herbal and chemical, designed first and foremost to assault the werewolf senses in a way that was disorientating. When your prey hunted largely through its sense of smell, overloading it had a good chance of confusion.

The elderly man watched this movement, neither surprised nor pleased. His gaze was on Silas.

"Safe, if you cooperate," he answered to Silas' question.

Quote from Adriana on July 8, 2023, 4:36 pm

I sneezed, and sneezed again, and again, and again, my ears cock-eyed and my vision affected by whatever the runt had stashed in his pocket. But I didn't let go. He was the only thing between me and that the massive female werewolf now standing near the phantom of a man.

"You could be lying - he might not be here, he might not be alive if he is here. Who are you working with?" I pulled back the hammer of the gun for emphasis and put more distance between myself and the other two, until I was backed up against a window on the opposite side of the room.

I tightened my grip around the kids arms.

Quote from Indy on July 8, 2023, 8:48 pm

"I could be," the ancient man observed, walking a single step forward as he did so.  No more, and no less - as though all that was required as that step.

The young man in his arms was tensed. His expression was split between the older man's, irritation, and by the pinprick of sweat on his brow. He was quiet. As good a sign as any that for the time being, the weight of the gun barrel against his head had humbled him. His mentor's lack of movement on his behalf had stayed his mouth just long enough to think through what he did or said more carefully.

"Are you going to walk out the door with him?" the older man asked mildly, commenting on no more than the weather, "Do you intend to drag him miles upon miles until I relent with an answer? Do you believe I will listen to a man who holds a gun against his head, and wonder if you will hold to your word and release him?"

His cold gaze settled upon the bespeckled man in what he spoke next, "There are no guarantees in this world".

He turned to Silas, "You know that.  If I told you he was alive, perhaps you would believe me... Yet what happens next all depends on you. Are you a beast of your passions?".