Melanie Johnsheed's Story

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Jared appeared as if he were praying someone would hand him a set of boxing gloves so that he and Ian could go toe to toe in a ring. Where this little impudent ant had garnered so much audacity, Ian would never know. Perhaps the nubile Beta had always had it, was born with. His stupidity knew no bounds it would seem. It was one of the multiple reasons Ian had never granted him a seat of power in his own pack. Wolves like that were always at the center of a grand coup d'état and Ian refused to harbor mutineers.

Lauren stepped in to calm her sons agitated and frayed nerves, quieting the storm that rolled around, caged, between Jared's ribs. She possessed such a whole and organic ability to connect with those around her, to gather empathy, he felt almost imbecilic for not picking up on her usefulness before then. If anything, she would make a valuable weapon to utilize against her son if needed be....how attractive she appeared to him now...

Ian almost felt a glimmer of hope that he'd be able to reign in this tumultuous situation, perhaps even gain something from it until Daryl decided he could remain silent no longer. “Excuse me, last I checked, Jared here is my Beta, and it is my call whether he has permission to go on this crazy mission or not..if we can get enough wolves to go on this mission, we're doing this.”

Ian's vision tinged in and out of red then black and white, going from enraged to wolfish in a manner of seconds. His fists balled tightly at his sides, knuckles popping under the sudden pressure. Even Daryl could not be so dense...but apparently he could. Ian envisioned just stepping forward and ripping the other Alpha's throat open with nothing more than his sharpened canines, it was greatly satisfying but hardly productive. He needed to rationalize...He slowed his breathing and calmed himself. Time. what he really needed was time. Surely Daryl was only concentrated on establishing the boundaries, maintaining his rule, and ruffling Ian's feathers; once he had time away to clear his hot head, he would see reason and the fault in this plan. He ultimately decided to let sleeping dogs lie least he wind up with fleas, but he just had to leave him with some food for thought no matter how dim the thinker must of been.

"Ah...well." He sighed. "You're right, Jared is a part of your pack now. Old habits you know, they die hard." He gave a low, hollow chuckle before he cocked his head to the side a bit, studying Daryl's face, then Jared's. "However, seeing that this plan does not solely threaten your pack, but all of ours, it would be best to refrain until you have had a chance to bring it up to the Alpha's of the other sectors. They mighten not like it if your recklessness puts the lives of their families in danger...Just some friendly advice from one leader to another." He smiled toothily, feeling like he had just hammered the final nail in the plan's coffin. "But please Jared, do see who you can gather to join you on this 'crazed mission', as you so aptly put it Daryl, though try not to be too discouraged if it is not many...after all, not even your own mother supports you in this, perhaps that may help you find reason in the end."

He feigned a woeful sigh, taking a step closer to the Alpha opposite to him. "I do hope we can get beyond this Daryl. Like I said, you and yours are always welcome here." Ian's words were volatile, like an overcast of black smoke creeping from the belly of his throat. His baited breath dousing Daryl's russet skin with fuel, a gasoline that spread all over his person. His fingers remaining unfurled, no longer a clenched fist, like erect match sticks to strike and burn his rival to cinders and ash. The other Alpha need make no mistake, Ian meant war despite the calmness of his tone or the submissive sound of his speech.

He let his gunmetal eyes rest locked on Daryl's own. He preferred to cut enemies dead with a look. There was no sense in killing his enemy. How would he know Ian had won?

---

Coren's body was wound up so tightly and tense throughout the whole impromptu meeting that his muscles felt like a python had corded it's body around his ligaments, constricting until his legs would inevitably give out. He was grateful when it began to come to its conclusion. Ian would not be happy later though, and Jared and his stupid Alpha were to blame for that, but they weren't the ones who would suffer the consequences. That privilege was Coren's and Coren's alone. His body preemptively complained about the future beating it would take in Ian's sparing lesson later that morning, for it would be as severe as Ian's nature undoubtedly. Please end on happy note, he unrealistically begged the ether. Just realize you guys are idiots and concede, pretty please. But of course, he was not so fortunate.

A new wolf intruded upon the conversation, cutting it to an abrupt close like the blaring of a car horn in on coming traffic. She was so obviously from sector two, she might as well as had it tattooed upon her brow. Her flippant, nonchalant entrance into the company of Alpha's spoke at a volume almost as loud as her appearance. He had seen many Alpha groupies in his four years there, recognized their style of licentious dress, their attitudes, and knew it was no surprise that he hadn't seen her before today, there were many wolves from other sectors he had yet to meet. None of that was what really caught Coren's attention, however, it was when he caught her eyes that he truly began taking note of her. Her gaze was one that could start brush fires, a look that mothers warned about. Her eyes sparked against his skin like flint against steel. She was hell on heels but worth the scorch marks she left you with...

So of course she was with Jared.

Coren knew he needed to go to his Alpha's side, that he had to report his 'successful' fencer meeting and warn him of the potential threat that was Elizabeth, but he could not help tempting fate and Jared's patience by approaching the girl. He swaggered up, hands buried deep in his jean pockets, smirk half cocked like his plan. "Jared, you didn't tell me you guys were hoarding all of the lookers over there in sector two, that's really selfish of you." Coren clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, tutting. "I'm Coren, so that would mean you are...?" His grin blossomed as a look of utter repugnance crossed over Jared's features.

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“Same goes for yours...Though you might want to remind them to come back when they come to visit. You wouldn't want to lose another one of your best to me.”

Ian smiled superciliously and tilted his head, it oscillating in an almost reptilian manner as he watched Daryl retreat smugly. On the outside, the Alpha seemed quite relaxed, but if any of the other wolves would look upon his face closely enough, they might be inevitably drawn into his bright blue eyes, flickering with undisguised fury. He could feel something in his chest, something volatile, a live thing that stirred, dizzying him with an appetency for battle that made him shudder, turning logic to madness. Soon. He told himself. Soon you will have the fight you crave. Daryl will be made to hurt for this....

The difference between power and control was that power was an empty status. To hold and attain power over others was not significant in itself without effectively wielding it. Control was wielding his strength in his own favor. Control was internal and external. Power was nothing without control, and powerful men like Daryl would always be crushed under the weight of those with control...Those like Ian.

He spun on his heels and strode out of the common room, breath held tightly in his lungs as if he were worried if it escaped, he would follow it back into the room and go for Daryl's throat. This was a dangerous game he was playing now, but the other Alpha would surely come back from speaking to the separate sector's leaders with his tail tucked between his legs like a cur that had been kicked one too many times. In the meantime he headed for another room, one set up for sparring; makeshift mats laid out across the stone floor to protect the unfortunate losers from too painful a fall. Coren would follow as per usual along with the new morning addition, the recently disgruntled Lauren...


"I'm Melanie, but you probably got that from Daryl, and thank you, flattery can get you almost anywhere." The she-wolf replied, extending a hand to shake as a glittering smile broke across her face like the waves of the ocean crashing upon the shore. It lit up her whole countenance. Coren's smile brightened in a subtle way in response--not like a sudden sunburst, but more like an oil lamp being turned up gradually but one that could very easily be smashed to pieces to grow into some frighteningly contagious wildfire. He took her hand is his own but instead of giving it a shake, he brought it to his lips before giving the smooth skin there a kiss. He may of been laying it on thick, but she left the door for flattery wide open with that last comment.

"I'm Coren Smolderholder-er I mean Somerhalder." He replied, feigning the correction before letting her hand slip out of his. "And please don't take any offense, but you are way too pretty to be hanging around with Geyer." He stated, looking to her like a moth drawn to a flame. "Why is this the first time I am seeing you here around Sector one?"

"Normally I stay in my own sector, things tend to be a little less tense there...But I have dropped by before, visiting with Jared, or just to pick up some clothes from Ms. Jared." Melanie responded cordially. Coren's brow crinkled slightly at her cutesy nickname for the Beta's mother. He wasn't overtly fond of terms of endearment. People were given names at birth for a reason, but he probably went along with this thinking solely due to the fact no one had ever deemed him worthy of a an affectionate moniker. He also found it quite odd that she'd find Sector 1 tense. Was not Sector 2 notorious for it's daily brawls and unmitigatable feuds? He mentally shrugged it off. To each their own.

"I just spend most of my time hanging out at home or on the surface." She added, flirtatiously turning a strand of chestnut hair over and around her finger. Now that was a bold statement to make out loud to anyone, especially to someone like Coren who was of another sector and profoundly loyal to his alpha. It was forbidden to be up above ground to any wolf unless they were meeting up with a fencer to order or retrieve supplies. This was for the safety of the pack. Perhaps she hoped to impress him, after all he did, intentionally, perpetuate a bad boy motif. But the truth of the matter was, he was scared shitless by what lied above the few feet of dirt just over their heads.

Coren swallowed back the block of ice that had lodged itself in his throat and mentally chided himself. Man up! "Oh, you go above ground a lot?" He asked casually, trying to appear disinterested. "I was just up there today...handling some business, no big deal." He finished, hoping to impress.

"Oh, you go above ground a lot?" Coren's tone was relaxed. That's impressive, Mel thought to herself. Quite a few wolves were nervous on the surface. "I was just up there today...handling some business, no big deal."
Melanie smiled. It was nice to know that someone else was okay with going to the surface. It really wasn't as big a deal as some of the other wolves made it out to be. "I do go upstairs quite a bit" Mel used the slang name for the surface. "Were you visiting a fence?" Coren barely had a chance to nod before Melanie had continued. "Maybe we could go and visit some of the clubs some night." She suggested. "I know some of the better clubs, and the Wolfsbane Warriors don't normally go to them." There was a slight drag in the conversation. Melanie didn't really want to stop talking to him, so she asked another question. "Do you think you'll come with us on the raid?" It was putting him on the spot, so Melanie probably wouldn't blame him if he said no. His Alpha was against the raid in the first place, but, he might be interested.

Coren tried to collect his thoughts but fumbled them at first, dropping a few, like he was trying to gather a bag of spilled apples. What was she talking about? Night clubs? Dancing? Above ground? Where actual people lived and breathed? The prospect was dizzying. There was nothing happening in his brain, no connecting thoughts: just white noise and static; like the sound of loose change being shaken in coffee cans. It was fucking terrifying and simultaneously exciting. Exciting? Not the prospect of an upstairs adventure, no that was the terrifying part, but the implication that she could be interested enough in him to invite him along on such a expenditure. He was reeling her in and that allowed him to gain some focus, to calm himself down from the gut reaction to flee that her words initially inspired.

Melanie stared at him for a long moment, perhaps waiting for some type of verbal reply this time; her eyes bright and soft, akin to the glow of fireflies. His face felt hot but his body light, like a seed in the wind. Coren had used to catch those little lightning bugs when he was a kid and he could recall just how they looked between his tiny cupped hands, warm and good; miniature stars, his mother had once said, that had chosen to stay closer to the earth so they could flicker in the tall grass. Something spurred in his chest, a harsh pang. But just like the fireflies, he made himself let go of that fleeting glimmer of true interest in her. Stuff died when you put it into a jar, Coren knew that, you can't hold on to beautiful things.

"Oh, clubs they don't usually frequent....Ah...how disappointing." He started, placing emphasis on the usually. "I had thought you would've wanted to check out the ones brimming with Warriors. After all, what's life without a little element of danger, right?" He was teasing and more than slightly sarcastic, but if you didn't know him better, which she didn't know him at all, it would be easy to assume he was completely serious and that clubbing in a crowd of deadly assassin's was his idea of a good time. He certainly had a reckless air about him that could imply as much.

Her resulting grin was like--like stuffing wool in the crack under a door. For a second Coren couldn't feel the wind creeping in, the cold; for a second he was warm all over. He could sense Jared's gaze flick over to him as he stood there chatting up Melanie, viewing him judgmentally as if his eyes could mutely send Coren skittering away back into the vastness of the dark that enveloped these underground tunnels. Well fuck you Jared, Captain dick in his hand, you may be a beta but that doesn't make you king of everything. He thought glib and bitterly, returning to Melanie's smile with one of his own.

"Do you think you'll come with us on the raid?" His mirthful face blanched. Are you insane? Against my Alpha's orders? On this suicide mission I totally do not agree with?! Coren internally cried. "Well...I mean, it doesn't seem smart to me...I'm okay with walking on the wild side but that seems almost..." Psychotic? Deranged? Ludicrous? "Rash." He definitely didn't want to say "Daddy said we aren't allowed to go and I always do as Daddy says." "We don't know this girl and we could lose a lot of our own...I really don't think you should be going either." He suggested, praying she would respond by telling him she would never tag along on such a operation. He may not have known her well but he didn't like the thought of any harm coming to her and her firefly eyes.

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Melanie stopped just inside the landing of the stairwell and turned to Jared expectantly.
"Time to change."

"Now?!" he returned, panicked and irritated at once, "I told you to wear clothes you were okay transforming in. We don't have time to--"

"Curtain." she snapped at him. Jared complied without further argument, only an exasperated huff as he stripped off his shirt and held it up as a modesty shield from the other wolves. Werewolves were actually quite comfortable with being nude around one another, transformation didn't leave much room for modesty especially once they returned to their human form as naked as the day they were born. It seemed an odd paradox then that the other werewolves were staring at Melanie's exposed midriff and she so scrupulously hid behind a curtain as she undressed. But clothes added a mystique to the human body, hinting at its silhouette, every piece of exposed skin making one hunger to see more and unwrap it like a present. It made stripping still a provocative action, perhaps even more so than in the human world because of their stronger primal urges.

Once she was done changing he stuffed the clothes into the plastic bag which Melanie dropped by the doorway. They all stepped into the stair well then. The stairwell was made of meshed metal so they could see up and down both directions. It was narrow and circular, the walls dusty and craggy, revealing how old the remodeled building really was. It wasn't unlike their own home, decrepit and falling to pieces. Jared gestured with his hand to follow them downward but before they could begin their descent, old-fashioned alarm bells within the stairwell sounded their deafening and resounding ring. The whole group at once nearly collapsed to their knees at the harsh noise, magnified by the cylinder shape of the stairwell and vibrating through the metal railings.

The action must have started on the floor above their heads and they moved fast to get out of the stairwell that was an echoing tornado of noise. They raced quickly down as doors above their heads flung open and armed assassins entered the stairwell. Another eardrum-bursting noise popped and one of the wolves at the back of the line collapsed, nearly causing a domino effect. Another werewolf hesitated holding up the line as he looked towards their fallen comrade sprawled out on the stairs with a bullet wound leaking blood and brain tissue out of the top of his head. "Keeping moving!" Jared yelled back over the racket and no one disobeyed him. In such a tight space they were like fish in a barrel for the assassins to shoot at.

They burst out of the metal door at the bottom. The ringing in their ears did not subside right away and they held their heads in pain, but it wasn't just the noise.. The change was upon them. They struggled forward, supporting themselves against the walls of the hallway as their bones cracked like dried driftwood in fire, growing, bending, contorting. Their muscles throbbed and bubbled, grew beneath their flesh like thick jungle vines around their newly fortified and strong as oak bones. Their minds became narrow, their thoughts singular and short -- Only one intention remained: to kill.

There was an overwhelming smell of blood and death on this floor and reaching the end of the hallway they saw why. A bowl like room with cells held within them wolves hanging likes strips of meat in a butcher shop. When the captive wolves saw their free brethren they howled and created a ruckus than most had the energy to expend. The few who were not tied up threw themselves against the bars of their cells, paced in predatory circles and clawed the walls eagerly. Immediately several wolves from Jared's group went to aid the tortured souls in the cells and help them to break out. Jared's attention was drawn to the middle of the room though where one captive was strapped to a table with an assassin caught in the middle of doing some busy work with her. The wolf on the table was not fully changed yet but even before he had laid his eyes on her familiar countenance he knew who she was by her smell that intermingled with blood, much like when they had met the first time. She was his progeny. His spirits were lifted to see it was her, alive, but to find her in this state detracted from any joy in their reunion.

Jared zeroed in on his target: the jackal of a man who had unknowingly taken what was his.(This disregarding the fact that Jared had given her up to begin with. But his mind became very possessive in animal form.) A growl emanated from Jared that was so low it vibrated within his enemy's chest. Even for a werewolf, Jared was large, his fur was the color of weathered wood and his eyes were alight at the edges with a sliver of green and yellow iris. He moved with grace that was unusual for something his size as he circled around the table towards Victor and forced him to back away from Maia. Two other werewolves backed him up but were distracted as the assassins in the stairwell finally made their entrance. All of the other werewolves turned sharply to confront the assassins who had entered the room, including three prisoner wolves who had been freed from their cells.

Charlotte had abandoned the television after a mindless half hour of watching it in favor of the book she had brought along with her tucked neatly away in her handbag, but even the comfortable tedium of the familiar words could not curb her irritation. Just how long is this going to take? She asked herself before the quiet solitude surrounding her was shattered like someone had just punched a hole through a pane of glass. A sound split the air, freezing the breath in her lungs, nearly bringing her heart to a full stop. It was a high howling ululation, a sound of pure mindless terror. It seemed to go on and on like a singing note plucked from a violin, growing higher and thinner and sharper until it was abruptly cut off. She quickly rose to her feet, stalking over to the closed door and pressed her ear to it fearfully. The roar of a battle suddenly raged outside as rhythmic as the sound of the crashing waves of the ocean. The noise was unlike anything Charlotte had ever heard before. If Borsch's paintings of Hell had come with a soundtrack, they would have sounded like that. Could this be some sort of terrorist attack? She asked herself silently in a fit of panic. Are they here for Pa'pa? That thought consumed her until she could think of nothing else. Out to kidnap or murder a prominent political figure head, that had to be it, the reason for this madness. She steeled herself, she had to find her father.

Charlotte left the safety of the confines of her cozy parlor room, pulling the door inward to step out only to trip and stumble over something that had been slumped against her door, now splayed out half in the waiting room and half on the marble floor of the hall. She caught her self with her hands only a second too late, her palms stinging sharply then aching dully as they came in contact with stone ground leaving her nearly face to face with the corpse of a silver-haired man in business formal attire, his skull cracked open to reveal the pulped gray matter of his brain. The wall adjacent to him was liberally splattered with gore. She didn't scream, but not from lack of fear but simply because there was no air in her lungs that she could of drug up to make a sound. Her mouth did however, fall open as brown eyes brimming with unshed tears of shock and horror lifted up to give witness to more mutilated bodies and limbs ripped asunder and cast aside like crimson flower petals littering the cool polished marble floor. She was consumed by a racking wave of nausea, If there had been anything in her stomach, she would have thrown it up. She could feel the pounding of her heart in her throat like the fluttering of the wings of an insect trapped beneath her skin. "Oh Lord in heaven help me!" She cried, leaping to her feet and racing down the hall, her heels clacking and echoing unervingly like a whisper amidst the howling chaos that screamed around her from somewhere yet unseen. She was certainly looking to the heaven's for help now though she had never been a religious person before. It was true what they said, she thought, there are no atheist in the trenches.

As she rounded the bend, entering the lobby, a grotesque transformation immediately became visible. She had to question whether she had actually seen it happen at all or if it had only been a trick of her fear addled imagination because it had taken place so swiftly. Wiry black hairs sprouted from a man's face, scalp, and hands. A lupine snout protruded from a flat human countenance, his gaping jaws packed with gleaming yellow fangs, frothing foam dripping from that immense, hungry maw. Thatches of bristling gray-black fur jutted through ripped and shredded clothing, jagged claws tearing free of leather boots. Human ears grew tufted and pointed at the tips as the shape-shifter expanded a full half meter in height, his massive shoulders widening as well. His claws elongated to the size of steak knives and he growled horrifically, falling upon another man armed with only a gun like some ravening prehistoric monster. His claws sliced through the man's garb as though it were tissue paper, rending the flesh beneath. The doomed gentleman struggled helplessly against the huge, voracious creature, firing off some desperate rounds but the hell-beast was too big, too strong. Powerful jaws closed on his throat, crushing the poor souls neck between rows of ivory fangs. A horrendous scream rang out as his blood gushed upon the ground but it didn't sound from the man but rather from Charlotte herself. The beast turned it's icy gaze to her at the sound of her cry, looking like some creature that resided amidst the stygian recesses of murky dark caves recessed in mythical forests spoken about in Grimm fairy tales. This can not be happening! She thought as it advanced toward her, bringing her suddenly to the ghastly realization that the world still teemed with those motley beings whom a more sober philosophy had disregarded as extinct.

She only had half a second for her life to flash before her eyes; a life full of menial parties and shopping trips, surrounded by people only feigning affection for her. A life of caprice, a life with little to no meaning or purpose. But half a second doesn't leave much time to dwell on your regret, thankfully, or even to do more than take a few steps back into the wall behind you. Just as a set of blood stained fangs opened to swallow her whole, a barrage of bullets knocked the animal to the ground sending him crashing not two feet in front of her, arterial spray painting her face and dress, blood pooling around her white heels. A team of armed assassin's moved into the lobby, cornering a small group of wolves that Charlotte hadn't noticed until now that hovered on the fringes of the room. Keen observation skills. She mentally and hollowly chastised in her state of shock and appall. At least the army was here to save the day. How had they been dispatched so quickly? It didn't matter, they were here to save her and her father and all would be okay, she told herself to calm the tremors that racked her body as she pressed her thin back harder against the wall.

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A hoard of hellhounds descended on the torture chamber, Victor hardly hearing their approach a moment before they arrived due to the blood rushing and roaring in his ears in his state of excitement and thirsty anticipation. A mountain of growling brindled fur crashed through the door, eyes alight with a cold and concentrated malice, not the aggravated and dull look of rage all of the other wolves filing in behind him bore. For whatever reason, this was personal to the creature on a human level, and if he had to guess it had something to do with the girl strapped to the table. Your hide would make a nice pelt. Victor thought, a noxious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He constantly longed for the oblivion of fighting, the harsh diversion of killing, and the distraction of injuries. A small army of wolves making a guest appearance in the bowls of Ordoghaz was a gift wrapped and delivered to his feet. He didn't question it now, only reveled in it. His hands crept toward the matching Berettas hidden under his long leather duster, not making too sudden a movement, fingers twitching eagerly. He just needed an opening...

In a flash, a mere breath of a heartbeat, a harsh report echoed cacophonously within the subterranean confines of the room, all but drowning out the startled howls of the monstrous beasts. Victor's fellow assassin's stormed in behind the pack, sweeping the floor with a blistering hail of automatic weapons fire, the relentless fusillade chipping away at the grey stone walls. Victor squeezed the grip of his Berettas so tightly that his fingers sank into the handles, leaving impressions in its high-impact polymer frames as he ducked away from the rain of bullets, nearly impacting with the wolf that had lead the group down in there.

Victor bared a set of fangs, exposing a mouthful of serrated canines and incisors, an atavistic growl escaping his lips. Flickering fluorescent lights, bulbs broken and shattered by gunfire, created a strobe effect that only added to the bizarre, nightmarish ambience of the hellish drama playing out in the circular room. Predator versus predator, the two deadly creatures, one wolf and one half a man, circled each other warily, flaunting demonic fangs and claws, Victor's bloodlust eating away at his flimsy pretense at humanity as they ignored the other warring factions that surrounded them.

"Come on dog, I have a bullet saved for your bitch once I'm done with you!" He taunted, shouting above the deafening noise and waving the gun in his right hand through the air, the one in his left still leveled at Jared's chest. He squeezed the trigger as the wolf seemed to surge forward for the attack but another animal leapt in front of his line of fire. The wolf, a small thing with smattering of auburn fur, flopped spasmodically upon it's back like a fish out of water. Hot steam rose from the bullet holes sprouted across it's chest. "Dammit."

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Charlotte's chest began heaving erratically as all the color drained from her face, horror shining in a pair of eyes the color of dark coffee beneath a downy curtain of once carefully mascaraed lashes that now left black streaks racing down her cheeks like the cracks of a dried up river bed. Mutated wolf bodies littered the floor, surrounded by pools of clotting blood. Many of the human soldiers still clutched their formidable-looking guns in their lifeless hands. Chipped plaster, bullet shells, and shattered glass added to all the clutter. It was that broken glass that crunched beneath the soles of Charlotte's heels with a sound like the breaking of bones as she was led backward through the gory debris by the animal with his sharp impressively large claws wrapped around her slender pale neck. She nearly tripped over a body on her way to the exit, a great gash in the side of the corpses own neck open like a great gaping mouth, crusted with dried blood. Only a few ropes of pale tendon still attached the head to the neck. Her flesh was blanched white as milk, blossoms of hard cracked blood decorated the mortal wounds that covered her like a rash on her breasts, stomach, and throat. She didn't look much older than Charlotte herself and yet she had perished fighting in a battle against ancient beings, creatures that by all reason shouldn't still exist. The barely clinging together pieces of Charlotte's psyche shattered like fragile china at the sight of her. "NO! Please, someone do something!" She cried helplessly, too fearful to risk struggling against the talon like nails pointed at her throat. "Someone, stop them! Don't let them take me!" She wailed, the usual cherry sweet staccato of her voice cracking under strain like the spitting embers of a dwindling fire, growing hoarse from all the shouting she had done that night.

Not a single agent moved against the wolf pack as they snaked their way out through the front door, baking away to safety with fangs barred. She shouldn't have been surprised, who would risk the life of a hostage as influential as her to kill off the few remaining wolves that had managed to survive the night? But didn't they realize the moment the animals had scurried back to the dark depth's of the nightmarish tide they had been dredged from that they would kill her anyway?

Outside, every shadow seemed darker, each sound more ominous now that she was alone with the panicky wild animals. The buildings pressed close but not in a protective manner like silent sentinels, but more like barriers, concealing her from other mortal view. The cold light of the full moon viciously stabbed its way through the windows of a nearby skyscraper, piercing the street with a violent shaft of silver. The screams of sirens and city traffic floated in on the freezing breeze coming off the tall buildings but otherwise, the world was silent. No traumatized screams of innocent onlookers could be heard, the people that usually meandered the square, even at this late hour, must have abandoned the sidewalks when the uproar had begun. There was no one left to witness where the wolves would drag her off to...

When the wind whipped her bloody dress around her, it was like a chilly finger tracing a path up Charlotte's spine, and along with that stale breeze came the scent of old garbage collecting in the dank allies. The wolf dragging her along led her down one of these alley ways with a hard jerk, the smell growing steadily stronger and more repugnant the further they trailed. "Please, just let me go. My father has money, a lot of it. He would pay you handsomely for my safe return. Can you even understand me?" She asked, a rough edge to her voice; sharp with an accent of desperation. An all consuming fear had slithered into to her heart like a liquid serpent, making a nest there; wound it's fluid body through and around her rib cage in an impossible knot. She suspected he could comprehend what she was saying, he had had presence enough of mind to snatch her to save himself from a being mowed down by a barrage of bullets, after all, it must have been that he just hadn't cared what it was she had to say. He is going to kill me now that he has made his escape... Charlotte felt as if there were suddenly an albatross around her neck. ...and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I hope they pick out a decent photo of me to use for the news story at least. Vain as ever.

One of the creature's that had survived along with her kidnapper pulled back a man hole cover at the end of the alley, putrid steam rising up from the depths, curling in the night air like death's boney white finger beckoning them to oblivion. She struggled against Daryl's grip now, unwilling to be left to rot in some sewer hole. "NO!" She cried, hitting his furry chest with her tiny fists, looking up at him in horror. The wolf's eyes met hers with a brightness that rivaled that of a lightning strike--the brightness of a good soul, one of the most fascinating enigmas of the world. She could have sworn that her was trying to reassure her that everything would be okay and that took her aback quite a bit, her whole body stilling with a start, hands sliding back down to her sides. She had to think maybe she had imagined spying some humanity in there, perhaps it was just the cruel trick of a hopeless mind, giving her hope, a reason to keep fighting to survive like she had half a chance....but this hadn't been the first time she thought she had imagined something tonight that turned out to be true.

The animal lifted her by her upper arms and lowered her into the man-hole after another wolf and quickly dropped down to join them. The darkness seemed to engulf her...as did the smell. It was eerily quiet down there with the absence of city noise, only sound to be heard being the sibilant gurgle of draining water. After two more wolves dropped down into the tunnel with a splash, the last one in pulled the heavy cover back into place plunging them into absolute black. She felt a heavy hot paw on her back as another found her waist, a panting breath raising the curling hairs clinging to the back of her neck. She shrieked as the creature lifted her over(presumably)his shoulder and draped her there, like she weighed little more than a sleeping child and began wading through the turbid water.

They traveled for a long time in complete and total silence with the exception of a low hissing whine like the air being let out of a tire every once in a while from a pained wolf or the sloshing of massive paws in the water gathered at their feet, the darkness was beginning to drive her mad. The animal carrying her was careful to not jostle her too much though for which she was thankful. It wasn't until they had rounded another corner that she spotted rays of filtered light shining down through a rusted metal grate, an exit to this decaying drainage system? She craned her neck, twisting her body to peer upward through the moldy iron slats but she needn't to have for it seemed they were now exiting the sewer altogether through the opening. So they don't live in the sewers. She thought, dismayed. Normally that prospect would of had her rejoicing but the truth of the matter was that that meant the government could just send an army in after her had they seen the wolves sneaking off underground so close to the security firm. They would have no idea where to look for her...

They clambered up through the opening with ease and exited out onto another city street, this one in a shadier part of town than the one from which they had started, graffiti decorating every inch of unoccupied concrete surrounding them mostly just stating vulgarities or claiming some sort of gang affiliation or another. This was when the wolves broke into a run, not liking being out vulnerable in the open she assumed. They moved with the stealth of great predators, roving the streets with navigated ease. Charlotte couldn't help but hold her breath most of the time for fear the wolf that had slung her over his shoulder would drop her to the ground with a sickening crunch. Thinking back, she realized she could have screamed, alerted the sleeping humans safely tucked in their beds to her presence, but she contented herself with the fact that she was not likely to have found a good Samaritan willing to come to her rescue much less alert any type of authorities in this neck of the woods. Finally they came to a stop over yet another man-hole cover. So they did live in the sewers, just not anywhere that particular part of the system could have taken them. Great. Just perfect. she thought as they dropped down yet again, the whole ordeal beginning to feel like de ja vu.



After more timeless progression, the darkness was at long last penetrated by some light fixtures; different bare bulbs strung up on the rounded stone ceiling or even the odd low burning torch every once in a while. The quiet enveloping the solemn group was permeated by low mumbling voices or barks and yelps in the distance from some unseen vantage point. They soon approached a crumbling hole in the wall from which the noise must of been coming and stepped through into a warren, something not a part of the sewer but built separately only recently accessible through the drain-ways she guessed. Charlotte's body began trembling, shaking violently; from fear or cold she could not have said because she was drenched fairly thoroughly, blood and water sticking to her skin like thick syrup and also fairly terrified.

The battle worn wolves entered the tunnels of Sector two which were unusually quiet, especially for a full moon, like the entire pack was collectively holding its breath for their return. It was a surreal feeling to be back, it felt as if they had been gone a decade despite it only being an evening. At least Jared felt aged and knew he wasn’t the same wolf he had been when he left. Besides the pathetic protests and sniveling of their hostage, the only sound was the trickling rain down the moldy walls and the sloshing of their heavy feet through the water. How they wished the silence of this transitional period would last. The only thing worse than hearing the whimpers of their dying comrades would be the howls of their surviving mothers and mates.

A modest sized group of werewolves whose flesh and blood had gone on the mission awaited them in the common area. Most of them were curled up on the floor when they walked in, their worry making them too sick to engage in the usual debauchery of the full moon. It dismayed both Jared and Daryl that most had stayed up that night only to have their worst fears confirmed. The stillness they had savored was broken when they stepped in. The cries of the grieving soon filled the cavernous room, echoing in the high ceiling, and through the corridors of Sector 2. A particularly aggrieved mother threw the sparse furnishings in the room against the walls until she was subdued by two other pack members and taken to her quarters.

It wasn’t until things had settled down that Daryl placed the human slung over his shoulder on the ground, still keeping his long fingers wrapped around her slender forearm. Jared gave Daryl a concerned and curious look. He hadn’t expected Daryl would ever take a hostage. He had principles. On the other hand, taking a hostage was the only way that could have gotten them out of the headquarters. But now that their prisoner had served her purpose as human meat shield, Jared wondered what his Alpha was planning on doing with her: he certainly couldn’t let her go back. Daryl barely met Jared’s gaze and pulled the young woman towards one of the three corridors leading out of the common area. Jared guessed he would find out tomorrow, he was too exhausted and numb to care right now.

Jared, Melanie, and Maia were the last wolves to leave the common area. Jared gave Melanie a good night nuzzle before he pushed Maia towards the corridor which led to his own quarters. It might have been more appropriate for Maia to stay with Melanie for the night but he didn’t want to let Maia out of his sight now that she was finally safe with him. When they got to his quarters Jared urged her towards the bed then laid down on the floor. He couldn’t really use his bed anyways in his massive wolf form, it would flatten beneath his weight, but Maia was just small enough to fit.

----





Daryl was forced to drag the young woman half the way to their destination as she fought back with renewed vigor, kicking and doing all she could to make things difficult. He couldn’t blame her for being so scared, the dark passage had very few lights and was eerie, exactly the type of place most humans would assume a monster would live. She was probably assuming right about now he was dragging her to his evil lair to be eaten alive, a stereotype Daryl found offensive and gross.

Daryl was actually taking Charlotte to a place where she would be far away from other wolves, a safe room where they normally locked up newly transformed wolves unable to control themselves in wolf form. They hadn’t used it in a while since they hadn’t had any new blood in the pack for a few years. He halted in front of a door that look suited for a medieval dungeon with planks of thick wood and iron holding it together. He undid the numerous locks all on the outside and led her into dark room. They were in complete blackness for a moment until Daryl found the lamp and turned it on.

The light illuminated a normal-looking room as opposed to a dungeon. There was a bed in one corner with a night stand next to it, a dresser, a table, and two chairs. The only thing that set it apart from a normal room is that all the walls and every piece of furniture had claw marks carved into them by its disturbed previous residence. The large pieces of furniture like the table, bed, and dresser were bolted with screws to the stone floor where there were spider web cracks from being pulled up repeatedly. Daryl marched the young woman over to the moth eaten bed and plopped her roughly down there. She had ceased crying and stared at him wide eyed and confused. He pointed a gnarled finger to the flattened pillow with no pillowcase, silently ordering her to sleep and walked back to the open door. He looked back when he got to the doorway and let out a frustrated snort from his snout at the sight of her still sitting up. Humans were so thick-skulled. He pointed to the pillow again. Sleep.

Seeing that she was not going to obey his order with him standing there staring at her, he finally closed the door and locked it. As he walked away, he heard the girl’s soft sobbing resume and her crying followed him down the hall and continued to echo for a long time in his head. He knew he should probably take his own orders to the girl and go to sleep too, but after he got back to his quarters he found it impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw chestnut eyes staring at him like a monster.

Daryl heard the words coming out of Ian’s mouth, the righteousness, the condescending nature of them. All he said was true but Daryl overlooked that for the intent that was to pour salt in his wounds. Not only that, Ian was belittling him in front of his pack members, in his territory. He didn’t imagine someone as choosy with his words would be oblivious to where he spoke them. He was too socially savvy. He also must have knew damn well Daryl could not let his sassy remarks slide lest he lose face to his pack who must have already been doubting his authority after a crushing battle.


He composed himself only long enough to defend himself. “We got what we went for on the mission: the girl. Not only that we brought back a hostage: An important one, the governor’s daughter. When or if complications arrive, we have leverage.” He retorted, trying to make the situation not sound as abysmal as it was, and that there was some master plan. Truth was he had no grand design though. He was not a schemer or the type to prepare for the worse, because he believed most things would work themselves out. Generally this was considered one of his good qualities, but his off-the-cuff style was ill-suited for the war he had just launched, one that would require strategy.

He stepped forward, going toe to toe with the other Alpha and peered down his hawkish nose at him, trying to intimidate him with his imposing size. “Now if yer dun makin’ smartass remarks git yer hoity-toity ass outta my Sector.” he said with a throaty growl of challenge.

Ian blanched, actually blanched, once he allowed the boiling blood pounding in his veins too cool so his brain could process what it was his body was actually doing. The words had left his lips and yet they had not been premeditated. There was no familiarity to such an odd sensation. Never again, he vowed. The wretched mutt had pushed him over the edge and far out of his character--infringing upon Daryl's own animalistic nature--so now he was laying with the mongrels like a dog, likely to rise with fleas.

His glacial eyes scanned the malformed crowd, one insidious brow cocked. Not everyone seemed totally displeased, some were even, dare he say, reverent--though more than most in that particular sector seemed to be locked in a state of confusion and stricken with horror. There could be worse things, though, he mused. His sweeping haughty gaze finally came to rest on a smattering of unruly dark hair and a feral excited grin that could only belong to that of a child as Bishop's offspring came bounding forward, not bothering to cow in full view of a rivaling sector, his eagerness apparent with every word he hastily queried. “You’re Adam?” Ian nodded his head solemnly, as if his replying answer was a grave burden to carry. "That I am." Cade was obviously pleased with the answer and felt it had earned him bragging rights, “HA! Our Alpha is the Alpha of ALL others!” He taunted, lashing out at the other pack with a sorely timed gloat. Bishop was quick to admonish his feckless son but Ian swiftly disabused his fussing. "It's quite alright Bishop."

The Alpha placed a well-meant hand on the kid's shoulder, looking down at him with a feigned crinkled eyed smile that from anyone genuine, would have warmed the soul. "You are a brave one...just like your father. Perhaps...someday even Alpha material." He looked over to Bishop who beamed with pride before his eyes returned to catch his captive audience's as he opened his mouth to address them directly one last time. "We shouldn't fight amongst one another when our enemy is darkening our backdoor. It is true, I have chosen to reveal this to you but not to inspire your fear but just to open your eyes. Show you that our race is truly indomitable and unconquerable. We have suffered a loss but if you listen to me, follow and trust in me...I can lead you to our future. Daryl was right-" He paused, as if the words were just too noxious to speak. "Right in the respect that we can no longer hide in the shadows, but we needed to strike when it was in our favor and we did not..."

He knew exactly what to say and how to say it to sway the crowd, his speeches were always a thing of beauty because Ian--correction Adam--was filled with this evangelical zeal, convinced that this shattered world, as he perceived it, could never be repaired until all living humans submitted to their race and all wolves alike bowed down to his divine greatness.

"You have spent the entirety of your lives stuck in this labyrinth, thinking of how you'll escape it one day, how amazing freedom will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present. It is time to stop imagining and start acting. To capture that which you have sought for so long. I am Adam, the original wolf; the first Alpha. Father of our race. As long as my heart beats, it beats for my children. Please...stand with me and let us obtain all that which we deserve." He gave them one last sweeping gaze before throwing it over his shoulder at his downed rival and grinning. "Stay smart Daryl." He intoned mockingly before turning heel and stalking out of the hall with Bishop and his son right on his coattails. He knew damage control in his own sector would be an immediate must. They would not take it lightly if they had to hear about their Alpha's exploits from another pack.

At this point no one held themselves back from helping Daryl and two of his pack members came to his aid. To his surprise neither of them were Jared. They helped him to his feet. His wounds were healing slowly with such a depleted energy. “What’s goin’ on Alpha?” one of the wolves supporting his elbow asked, “You’re still our Alpha.. Aren’t you?” At this, Daryl yanked his arms away from either person supporting him. “’Course I am!” he bellowed, standing on his own two feet now, albeit a little unstable, “As long as I am still breathing I will be the Alpha of Sector 2. If Ian—Adam thinks that he’s in charge of everything just by dropping a name, he’s wrong. Sector 2 is keeping its autonomy from 1. What proof does he have that he is the original Alpha anyway?”

He began his walk back towards his quarters, leaning his weight only slightly on his left side where he was sure he had twisted his ankle, if not broken it altogether. “Where’s Jared?” he questioned to no one in particular as he moved at an embarrassingly slow pace. It was less humiliating than having one of his members walk him like an old man across a crosswalk in his mind though. “He was here a second ago.. He went after the new Omega.” A female replied indicating towards the corridor Maia and Jared had left with a nod. Daryl could hardly resist rolling his eyes. He had ragged on Jared for some time now about finding a mate, but now was an inopportune time for his Beta to turn into a lovesick puppy. “Well somebody tell him after he’s done chasin’ tail to get his ass over to Sector 3. Conrad Sutherlin is the only guy who’s lived long enough to confirm who Adam really is.”

He stopped his slow and steady limp in front of Mel on his way out of the common area. “I’m gonna need some of your clothes..” he told her. When Mel replied with nothing but a blank stare up and down, it occurred to him he wasn’t wearing any clothes post-transformation, “Oh, uh, not for me of course. For our new guest.” he added with a sheepish half-laugh that caused his sore ribs to ache. Even with an eye swollen shut and busted teeth he managed an amused smile before a sharp sensation stabbed him in the ribs and caused him to grimace in pain. He bent over, holding his side until the pain began to subside. "I'm, er, headed over to welcome her after I make myself decent.." he grunted, continuing on his way, hoping to make it back to his room where he could recover out of sight. It seemed the only worse pain to breaking bones was setting them straight again.

Coren blearily awoke to the familiar sound of dripping water, the drops echoing and bouncing off the cavernous walls like some natural metronome. The room, or more aptly put, cell was simply a hole carved in their bulwarks taped off by iron bars--long jagged claw marks scarring stone walls that were missing entire chunks of bricks and mortar. He moved to sit up, groaning at the jack hammer pounding against the insides of his skull as if his brain were under construction. Lactic acid had built up painfully in his muscles over night and when he tried to stand, he tottered upon unsteady legs that felt like over cooked spaghetti noodles. The ground seemed to tilt vertiginously beneath his feet, sending him crashing back down into a sitting position, back posted up against the wall, long legs unceremoniously stretched out before him.

Coren sighed, would he never get better at this? Of all the things he was not very good at, being a werewolf was perhaps the most outstanding. He let his head smack against the stone behind him in despondence, grateful last night that Lauren had left him before his change gone underway. His wolf was not a pleasant thing to see up close. It was rabid, untamed, and dangerous; a frightened wild thing that lashed out at everything in direct proximity to it like some caged animal. Hence why he barred himself up on nights of the full moon like some prisoner to her pale faced whims. Other wolves could manage to remain by each others side, calm and tranquil in pack presence, but not Coren. He had zero control over his inner beast, his four years of experience doing nothing to dampen his beast's ferality.

He let his eyes trail lazily over his exposed, filthy, and sweat coated body, swallowing at the sight of it. How right that his body was a gallery of scars, a canvas of experience, a testament to life and his capacity to endure it. A map of injuries left from his human and wolf life told the story of a boy who by all rights was fated to only ever know pain. Could he remember what it was like to not have violence stamped in his mind every second of every day? Did he remember what it meant to be whole? Of course not. That was much too long ago...He had grown up yearning to become more familiar with how bodies without black eyes and bruises worked. It was simply natural, simply instinct, to want to be somebody else, because he didn't like who he was when he was home. He'd been an unwanted, tremulous child whose jaw would click when he yawned and whose frame seemed to fit naturally in a corner as he cowered away from whatever sought to hurt him. He had thought being a werewolf would have changed things, he was strong and capable of defending himself now, but it seemed rational understanding did little to appease frantic instinct learned over the years. The only thing that had changed now was that he was capable of seriously hurting those around him in a way even his father had never been.

Coren was quickly pulled from his disconsolate musings by the sound of steady footfalls approaching, an unwavering tapping to accompany the chorus of dripping water. It was completely pitch black in this part of the tunnels, usually being devoid of life not accounting for himself. The dark brought him comfort, as if he could hide his shortcomings from the rest of the pack wrapped in this obsidian security blanket so it made for the perfect place to hole up during the rise of the moon, but now he could point a pinprick of light in the distance, flickering as it found it's way to his hiding place.

The shadows dancing across his vision didn't dissipate under the wavering beam of a weak flash light that had long since yellowed with age, it was more like the shadows simply peeled away; layer from oily layer as he blinked, his pupils adjusting to the intrusion. His unfocused gaze was met by a woman with crimson hair too vibrant to be natural and a face luridly illuminated by the dim sole source of light in the black, where only the expression of anxious irritation was stamped. A smile twitched the corner of Coren's mouth on a good will mission, but he only received a weak approximation in return. He braced himself for the cocktail of unhappy emotions that would probably, undoubtedly, chase the answer to the inquisition he was about to make. "What's the matter? What's happened?" He questioned, voice dropping all hints of pretense, growing more staid by the second. When Rose locked eyes with the Omega, her gaze did not seem to stop at his face but peeled back the skin and muscle and bone to the frantic starving brain beneath. "Did you know?" She asked, anger lacing every word she spat down at him. "Did you know Ian-Adam was the original Alpha?" Coren blanched. What? The inside of his stomach suddenly felt like it were coated with lead, sinking down to the floor. "How dare you keep that from me, I know you're his little pet project but I have known him for a few hundred years. You've known him for four." She scowled. "Well just so you're aware, the secrets out. He made an announcement to sector two after serving Daryl with a beat down then briefed the rest of us this morning. You're not the only special little one who is privy to that knowledge anymore. Anything else you want to share with me before it gets brought to light too?" She asked venomously. She was a petty, vain creature who preened and prided herself on her own imagined importance. Coren never could fathom why Ian had made her Beta.

A feeling of betrayal roiled within him. Ian had never told him anything...not that he'd let this bitch know that. He held his head high – his expression fixedly neutral and blatantly false. "Just that nobody actually suspects your dye job is real, it's the talk of the pack actually. We were all wondering when it was you were going to give up on trying to fool everyone in thinking that you're a natural redhead...Ian doesn't like redheads anyway. He goes for the brunettes." He stopped himself from going any further, She could whip his ass five ways to Sunday if she felt so inclined and her infatuation with the alpha was a sore subject to touch on. Rose sneered, lip curling back to reveal sharpened canines. "You are such a brat, you know that? Why he drags your pathetic ass around, I may never know." Funny, he was just thinking the same thing, but about himself or her, he couldn't be sure. She disappeared back from where she came, the clack of her absurd heels fading into quiet, taking the light with it.

Coren was suddenly filled with too many angry words about his alpha that were sharper than any dagger, but he'd let them tear him apart from the inside, before he’d let them go anywhere near Ian. Over the span of his short life, he had become aware that such cries ended up dead and useless, scraping his throat raw for no good reason at all. So he had learnt to endure them along with the scars too. Pain was never meant to be beautiful or poetic. It was feeling like you were in mid breakdown and laughing like you were fine. There were depths of hurt which could not, which should never be articulated, brought out into the harsh light of day where they could not scab over and be forgotten. This was one of those pains.

He eventually hauled himself off of the floor and dressed after his legs had regained feeling and he had splashed some water over his face and body, taking what he liked to call a whores bath. After that, he wandered aimlessly to the dinning hall for breakfast though he had no appetite to speak of upon hearing the news. He wouldn't seek Ian out. He couldn't. His eyes listlessly scanned the people hunched over their plates, picking at food remnants and whispering in hushed tones. There was not a friendly face among them. Where was Melanie when you needed her?

Coren moved to leave the common room when an older wolf intentionally knocked shoulders with him as he brushed past, probably hoping to get a rise out of the young Omega aka pack bitch. It was nothing new, but today was not the day for it. Coren's chest swoll with intent, a howling dejection filling his hollow heart ever since finding out that Ian had kept secrets from him, and it longed to escape the ribcage bars that imprisoned it to lash out at anyone. But Omega's didn't win fights, they always lost. That was just the way of it what with the pecking order.

Coren had never really fought anyone in his four years there, but not for the reason most of them thought. He was volatile, dangerous. He might accidentally kill someone rather than just move up the command chain. He couldn't control himself, when he got 'wild', he got murderous. So, under Ian's advisement, he immediately accepted the lowest rung on the ladder--Omega--so he would never have to risk killing someone or revealing just how far gone and sucky a werewolf he was, like a rabid dog that needed to be put down. Just then, however, he found himself questioning Ian's advice and wanted to risk it just for a chance to dole out a little pain for once.

Luckily, before he could engage his opponent, the clacking of high heels and a familiar voice drew his immediate attention. "Melanie?" He started before remembering his ridiculous disheveled state. Quick, look sexy! Coren swiftly patted down his wild hair and gave his best "Smolder holder" stare. "What are you doing here?" he asked, arching a single dark brow as he padded over to her, glaring at the wolves she had just pushed past.

Melanie looked up at the sound of her name, a bright smile gracing her face as she looked at Coren. He patted down his hair, but Mel felt that he looked fine with the ends sticking out. That just out if bed hair would be very attractive to wake up to-
Whoa! Cool your jets girl she told herself. Melanie met his eyes, and that didn't help. They were penetrating her, those icy blues. It was like an Arctic wind moving over an unfrozen sea. Melanie became completely convinced that she could spend hours looking into his eyes, and she might be able to get the chance. "Hi, Coren. You missed out some last night, we could've used a smart wolf at our back, plus, it was fun taking out some of those assassins." She knew that if she was going to convince the wolf to go with her, she'd need to out a challenge in front of him. "I was going to invite you out for the chance to sink your teeth into the outside world, but with Adam, you may be too busy for a silly wolf like me." Melanie twirled her hair, deliberately playing the 'school girl' look. She was reasonably sure that Coren would know that she was playing with him. Actually, she was counting on it. Coren seemed smart, now she wanted to know just how daring the sexy beast was.
Dammit girl! Pull it together!