`Only HUMAN after all [OPEN]

[VIKTOR LORENZ ALSVIK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #78816a solid; border-bottom: 10px #78816a solid;] 'Cause I'm getting tired of this human race how many heroes have we killed today? Words: 1,325 || Tagged: OPEN || Status: Complete Everything was second nature now. I’ve been doing this, hunting that is, for as long as I’ve been able to hold a knife. Throwing knives were the first weapon they handed me, I was nine. It seemed like a life time ago that I was just starting out, barely able to throw the knives just a few feet let alone lodge it deep enough into a werewolf’s head to kill it. How things have changed since then. Now I can not only throw one knife and have it stick directly into the desired target, but many knifes at once. I have my custom longbow which I can shoot with precision in likes that only few can compare. Then there is always my gun, my choice weapon. When it comes to shooting my gun I can hit anything with my eyes closed. To have all these skills in death and murder with a weapon, anyone can be taught though probably not with the same accuracy. This also doesn’t consider the training received in hand to hand combat. I swear they have given us hunters more training than navy seals. To have all these skills and knowledge… What about the heart for it? Sure they can teach you how to kill with your hands, weapons, and how to defend yourself in every given situation but can they give you the heart to keep killing, and killing, and killing some more after over twenty years of it? I have run out of steam for this. I do what I must because the Government owns me and my gun; they tell me where to go, how many to kill. Yes, I have to report to them with my quota of werewolves killed each month. The abuse I have to do to my body to keep up with what they demand, I have more injuries and scars than I can count. I feel worn down, unable to continue on doing what I have been born to do. Besides the toll this does on my body, what it does to my mental stability. Let’s say that I’ve been avoiding my psyche appointments because I know I’d fail and they’d lock me up, deem me unfit to be around humans. And they wouldn’t be wrong… Sometimes I feel I can’t hold myself together, that I’m just going to tear apart in a million little pieces. I don’t know how to fix myself. I don’t know how to make this problem any better. I don’t know if they make a strong enough glue to put me back together so I’m whole again. I’d really like nothing more than to go into the government office that I report to and shoot up the place; I would too if it would do me any good. All it would do is get me locked up for good and kill a bunch of innocent paper pushers. Their orders come from higher up. One day someone will pay for making us kill people just because they can’t accept someone for being what they are. The government says they are right in what they are doing, killing the werewolves by training us hunters. But are they really better than the werewolves? They are sending kids out to hunt monsters; monsters that could tear us in half without batting an eye. They make us run the run the risk of becoming infected or killed while they sit up on Capitol Hill on their cushions in safety. The day I’ll happily go kill werewolves is when the president joins us down on the front line and takes up a gun himself, then I’ll be happy about my day job. It makes me sick that I’m so good at killing. Some days I sit around just thinking about what I’m good at. What is it that defines me as a person? Nothing. All I know is killing, all I can do is killing. My gun is a part of me and that is the end of the story. There is nothing more I wish for than to have a normal life. I’d like to have a normal nine to five job where I don’t have to stay up all night, stick my neck out there to be sliced open or chewed on like a dog toy. I’d like nothing more than to say that I am good at something more than holding a weapon. I’d like nothing more than to come home to someone every night, to sleep next to someone every night and wake up to them every morning without running the risk of them being used against me. It is a terrible weight on the heart to always be alone. People aren’t meant to cope with everything alone; people need someone there to support them. I need someone to support me. I need someone. I will be getting someone to be in my charge. A kid. Just a kid who will be forced to take up a gun just like I had. I’ll have to teach him the things that my Master Hunter Kerrec taught me, I’ll have to teach him to always be alone and know nothing but slaughter. This more than anything weighs on my heart. I’ve never been fond of kids, but I’d never wish this punishment on anyone. From what I’ve been told this kid is just twelve years old, granted nearly twice the age I started all this hunting crap, but he’s just twelve. He’ll be taken from everyone and everything that he has ever known and thrusted into my care and a gun into his hand. He shouldn’t have real guns and bows to play with at twelve years old, he should have little toy guns that light up and make little phaser type noises. All of those wishes, desires, hopes and dreams will never come true for me. I am Viktor Lorenz Alsvik. I am a hunter by nature. My specialty is guns. That is who I am. That is all I ever will be. By law this is my duty, my job, my life. So here I am, working to make sure that my ass won’t cash out until I’m ready to go. Ear buds were in my ear, music playing loudly as I could stand it through them. Normally I’d do my run outside, going down all the back country roads to ensure I wouldn’t run into any one but the weather wasn’t permitting it. Despite the unseasonably warm weather the past couple days has decided to throw us all for a loop and do nothing but storm and rain. My only other choice was to come to the gym. I could have gone to the Hunter’s Training Center but that is just a place I’d rather avoid, there are too many people who know me. Too many people that can report back to our officers what they saw about me. The loud music in my ears blocked everything out. I was alone in my own little world on this tread mill. Sweat beaded across my skin as I pushed myself harder and harder. I had to keep turning up the speed on the tread mill as it couldn’t keep up with me. I glanced at my watch for a moment, checking to see how long I’ve been here. Not long enough. I can still think. I need to work myself hard enough that I can’t process any thoughts. Muscles in my legs were screaming in protest. My knee, which was wrapped in its brace, was begging for me to stop. But my mind said keep going, don’t stop, horrors behind you will consume you. My brow furrowed in concentration, not hearing the music that blocked anyone else out in gym, but I focused on my breathing. Although I was running nearly flat out my breathing remained calm, only slightly quickened, a perk to my years of training and working out. CLOTHES: Black gym shorts, grey t-shirt, black and silver Nike running sneakers [/style] And how many lives will it devastate?

[TRUTH]

The problem with our world right now....was hunters. The bane of our existence, they were nothing more but murderous bullies with a license. Of course we weren't technically people were we? The werewolves, I mean. How can you have a moral dilemma when you are killing dangerous animals? After all...killing one of us means you've just saved countless of our victims. I don't believe that - of course, there are bad people and being some preternatural critter doesn't suddenly absolve you of past sins or turn you into a shining straight lace citizen, in fact it makes you worse then even the lowest scum. We are all wild creatures in their eyes. We will steal your young straight from their beds at night, eat virgins, and mindlessly kill anything in our way.

That's what the government believes anyway.

Now ask me if I care what the government believes? Its my belief, my firm outlook, that there is only one of two ways to get around hunters, and their little society. Either kill them - Wicked is particularly fond of that idea, or turn them into the very thing they have been raised to fear, hunt and destroy - by the way that is my idea. My sense of justice has always been slightly skewed if not a bit cruel - I suppose being alive for over three hundred years will do that to a person. Either way, I'm okay with doing both, and today...I have plans on carrying out one or the other. For days now, I have been tailing one particular hunter, one of only a handful, that have been leaving dead bodies in his wake. Dropping our kind like flies. Most I was glad to see go, but some? Some didn't deserve it. Some held ordinary jobs, were nurses, teachers or something equally useful. Ever come across a body human or not with their heads blown off their shoulders? And I mean that quite literally too, absolutely nothing where the head is supposed to be, just a gaping hole from the neck up, and a pool of pounded ground beef and hair. He had a nickname among our community - no matter how far spread we were. Death.

It was stories of him that we told all the bad little wolfies, so they'd behave - kind of like our version of the boogeyman. I knew his daily schedule for the most part, I knew that he came to the gym during these times, that he had a werewolf lover (irony?), that he spent much of his time at home and if he wasn't out "working" or on a "date" he was never truly alone - other then now. It was my best move to be here today, in broad daylight, at exactly this time. The fact I was here doing a poor job of really blending in reminded me this was more so Wicked's forte, then mine - even though both of us had at least some knowledge in stealth.

It was just hard to hide the fact that I was six foot something, and looking like some new aged version of grizzly Adam's had come down straight from the mountains. Well, perhaps I didn't look quite that scruffy, but the shadowy beard along my jaw, chin and upper lip definitely gave me a distinct look. I was wearing some of my brothers civilian clothes, complete with work out shorts, pull over sweater - hood up, and cross trainers. Oh yeah the fact it was raining didn't exactly help my cause to look casual either. The only reason I was doing this by myself though was that less was more on this occasion, especially with some many witnesses and civilians around - though they were far and few between as everyone hurried for cover to avoid getting soaked. Perhaps it looked like I was just one of the other dozen or so people scurrying along to get out of the rain. My brother was around somewhere keeping an eye on things, but it was agreed upon that I had more tact between the two of us...rather, that I was more discreet when it came to my fighting.

I have already walked around the block once in a nice easy pace to keep from looking suspicious - I had to give the hunter enough time to get in there and get into the dull routine of his work out before I smoothly slowed and entered myself. The front of the hoodie sagged slightly, in the wide pocket that allowed for one to stick both hands in on either side like some sort of manly muffle - rested a syringe containing my blood. We have several like it at home, kept refrigerated with both our tainted blood in it - and they positively carry the lycanthrope strain. There was no one at the front desk to great me...all the better I suppose, and with it being so early, or late - depending on who you looked at it - there weren't that many people looking to get fit. Only the truly dedicated littered the weight room floor - one or two, and with a quick but good look around I saw the number of witnesses were limited to about four. Across the open room, on the very far side where the cardio equipment was lined up in two rows, faced away from the entrance but toward the open darkly tinted windows, and flat screens so the runners could have something to mindlessly watch, was my hunter. I knew this was Death because I'd memorized how he'd look from any angle.

I inhaled deeply though - because I had made a point to memorize his scent as well - past the rain drenched musky smell of my own skin, and the sharp bitter odor of sweat of the gym, my nose picked up that there was no mistake of who I was looking at. My water logged hoodie was slowly forming a puddle at my feet, and even though my shoes were filled, I took a step forward with a sort of quiet fluid grace that would help me sneak up on the man. I haven't been around for three hundred and nineteen years and not figured out how to suppress the wolf in me either - passing for human. Even around the most sensitive. I saw earphones in his ears, but it didn't keep me from trying my damnedest to be as silent as I could. I didn't need him getting a funny feeling and stopping all of a sudden before I could do anything. As a stalked forward, I slipped a hand into my front pocket, my fingers wrapping around the needle, and pushing my thumb against the plastic sheath that covered the sharp pointed tip to uncover it. (No need to senseless prick myself and waste this.) Five more steps, and I brought it out of hiding, and only a few feet away.

My pulse picked up. I couldn't help, but my skin hummed with adrenaline, and my blue eyes widened a little- the hunt always did get me a little excited. But I knew how to not let it control me. I was standing directly behind Death now, paused, taut - and I hesitated for a moment...not because I was unsure, but because I let the sound of his pounding feet fill my ears, and I could almost imagine the hammering cadence of his heart was because I was running him down, because my own fluttered with an eagerness. Before I could let the moment stretch out anymore I was moving forward one arm slipping around his to hit the emergency stop on the treadmill, and plowed my weight forward pinning him noisily to the front of it, using the momentum and sudden lack of it to my advantage. The syringe was already raised and pressed into his neck, dug in and my thumb poised over the plunger. "This will be a lot let painless if you don't fight, Death." With that I had just revealed what I was, and I hoped he did fight now as I pushed down on the very thing that was going to turn his world upside down...if he survived this day, that was.

[VIKTOR LORENZ ALSVIK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #78816a solid; border-bottom: 10px #78816a solid;] You better run, better run, outrun my gun You better run, better run, faster than my bullet Words: 1,778 || Tagged: Truth || Status: Complete My breathing remained at a nice and even pace; in and out, in and out. Pain was just a state of mind I can overcome with ease, just focus on something else, anything else. I am a master of my thoughts and body. It didn’t matter even with miles put in already. I could keep going until I chose to stop. My mind was quiet with pleasant thoughts, a trick is to try and not think of something troubling when you are running, never think of something that can get your heart rate up and your breathing quicker, it will just tire out quicker and making it a less efficient work out since you can’t push yourself to the max. Though I claim to be a master of my mind and body, I was having a little problem controlling my mind at the moment. I had zero complaints as to where it was drifting, it just made it a little hard to focus on my task of running myself calm. Barrett. He is the only werewolf that has been able to wiggle in past my solid guards and earn a soft spot in my heart. Quite the soft spot too, I have quite the thing for him. He is the only werewolf I trust, even if I do have some weird out Hunter moments but that’s not something I can help, it’s too far engrained into me to just shut down completely. He is also the only werewolf I would let into my home, despite how weird it would be for me with all the weapons I have specifically for hunting and killing his kind. I just won’t tell him about the shooting range in my basement. Or the real kicker, the small hut that is deep in the woods behind my house where I would take werewolf’s to question when I’m ordered to. And I’m required to use any means necessary when this sort of assignment comes up to get the information needed. That kind of information can be of a deal breaker. Who wants to know their sweetie is not only a licensed killer of their species but all tortures them. Another something I’m not proud of. Thoughts trailed to the most recent time spent together with Barrett at Envy. Dancing, drinking, laughing, me thoroughly enjoying the feel of hid body pressed against mine as we moved to the beat of the thrumming music. Or there was the time we met, in a bar… We need to stop going to places where alcohol is served. I don’t like the taste of it and when I do managed to drink some, I don’t hold it well. On the other hand going to the bar caused me to meet Barrett in the first place and then the delicious activities that ensued after our meeting at his apartment. We did have a good time at Envy, at the very least I don’t I did. You can’t go around my books when you’re date is sexy as fuck. A smile curled at the corners of my lips when I thought of jag varg, my wolf. I shook my head then and came from the world of thoughts and fantasies to the world of reality. I was supposed to be keeping a blank mind to focus on my run, not a very sexy werewolf that I would love to run out of here and go see. Thoughts of him were very distracting, causing shivers to run along my spine. I took a deep breath to center myself again, smoothing my stride and getting back to task. I immersed myself once again into my running; using the music blasting in my ears as some kind of white noise to block out sounds of the gym, the whir of the tread mill under me, and the thoughts that kept battering my mind for attention. I have grown over confident in my abilities to bail me out in everything. I knocked out one of my sense and had the confidence that my remaining senses, including the kind of senses only Hunters possess, would be sufficient enough to alert me of any trouble. I’ve grown lax in my defenses. I don’t even have my gun directly on my person; it is sitting just inside my open gym back next to the tread mill I was on. It wasn’t too long ago I wouldn’t do anything without my gun in my hand or in my shoulder holder on me. Now I’m here running, without my gun on me, I can’t hear anything beyond my music, and trying my damndest to shut out everything else to reach some kind of peace for once. If my Master hunter Kerrec could see me now he’d put me in the stocks and give me a lashing for my foolishness. If I had been paying the slightest bit of attention to my surroundings I would have noticed the quite distinguishable wet dog smell. Powerful werewolves may be able to draw their metaphysical energy into themselves to mask what they are so to the trained or the metaphysically sensitive they appear to be human. The one thing that is hard for a werewolf to hide or mask is their smell. They small like the woods, a deep musky smell of wolves. That woodsy smell I found very attractive on a certain werewolf I know, it caused things low in my stomach to tightened. That smell on anyone else was like someone stuck a red hot poker into my sinuses. I was so oblivious, so focused on trying not to be the top notch hunter I am, I missed that burning feeling. Or at least until it was too late… It was a gigantic ripple in the water the way the air moved around him as he sprung closer. Even being a Hunter with skills that rival a werewolves I was too slow to stop what had already been set in motion. It was like in slow motion as I saw an arm snake around me and press the emergency stop, I had been running too hard to stop with it and found myself running straight into the front of the machine; the impact caused a deep grunt to slip past parted lips. A heavy weight of hard muscled body coming soon after to pin me there against the front of the tread mill. I had half a mind to pull the ear buds out of my ears, a growl of frustration passed gritted teeth as I pushed back against the solid wall man behind me, pressing the upper part of my back into his chest to try and get some room for me to slip out of his grip. In my attempt to free myself from his grasp there was a sharp prick in my neck that gave me a start, a cool sensation of something being injected into me quickly came after the stab of pain. First, he pissed me off about man handling me against the tread mill. Second, he really pissed me off by making me look like his little bitch. Third, I seriously don’t like needles. Fourth, I want to know what the hell was just shot into my neck, I could feel it burning under my skin. With another growl through gritted teeth I shifted my weight and got off a clean enough blow with my elbow to the man’s ribs I was able to free myself by slipping under the support bars on the side. I was in a whole different kind of calm; my mind had reached a white noise state that I slipped into when I was hunting. Viktor Alsvik was gone; all that was left was destruction. I moved quickly, crouching to get under the bars on the tread mill and grabbing my gym bag as I went. Long legs carried me easily out of reach of the man; I didn’t even pause or turn to look at my assailant. I just ran to where I could have a moment to get my gun. The cold metal was a comfort at soon as it touched my hand. Anxiety of a close call melted away. I slowed to a walk now that I was on the other side of the gym. I paced back and forth, only walking a few strides then turning. Blue eyes darted to the man, finally getting my first look at him as I paced, never taking my eyes off of him. He seemed about the same height as me; maybe an inch or so taller than me. He had a whole hell of a lot of weight on me; he looked as if he was made of nothing but muscle. That was nothing unusual for me; I’m always coming across werewolves that are bigger than me, its part of the job description. Death? Did he seriously just call me Death? Now that was a new nickname… I liked it. I think I’ll keep it. A smile crept across my features then, a good ole boy kind of smile, but it never reached my eyes. My eyes were colder than ice; there was nothing in their depths but an eerie stillness. ”You know… I may have had some weird fantasies about tread mills… but you’re not my type. Let’s try to keep a five foot radius between us, eh?” my voice was low, a deep growling tenor. It was nothing like a bedroom growl, this just screamed pissed off male who was about to blow someone’s knee caps out just to watch them squirm in pain and get a very sick thrill out of it. With my gun in my left hand I raised my right hand to touch my neck where he had injected me with something, pulling it away I found blood smeared across my hand. I shook my head and let out a short tisking sound, ”if I get blood on this shirt I’m sending you the dry cleaning bill, it’s one of my favorites.” Joking aside I looked to the man again, considering him carefully. I had thirteen shots. I could easily take him out in that many. Or at least so I hoped, if I couldn’t I was shit out of luck and I’d be pushing daisies. I pointed my gun toward my neck where I had been injected with whatever was in that syringe, ”so wolf boy, what was that that you shot me up with?” Now that was something I really did want to know, the burning that was radiating in my neck and shoulder was starting to become a very large concern. CLOTHES: Black gym shorts, grey t-shirt, black and silver Nike running sneakers [/style] Run, Run, Run, Run. Run, Run.

[TRUTH]

Before the elbow had been jabbed into my ribs, I'd gotten a real nice whiff of the body pinned underneath me. Human with a flavor of wolf. It was nothing that was drug from inside him, but settled on the skin like a fine dust. I felt the action more then saw it coming, the tense and bunch of muscles as he pulled back to force me back which I more then allowed, my mistake for assuredly cocky, I suppose, but I had the strongest sense that I wasn't going to be killed today. If he had his gun - which I suspected he most certainly did - I'd more then likely be walking away with a new hole decorating some body part, but on the upside Death here would be far worse for ware, then I. Stumbling back from the treadmill, I only allowed a moment - like he did as he ran to scoop up his bag and tugged off the hoodie. It was so waterlogged that it would be nothing but a hindrance, at this point, then do any good. It made a wet plop when it was dropped at my feet.

Once he was back in my sights I barely even blinked and to his cold smile, I returned it. My stance was a little wide, ready, and remained coiled tense ready, while seeming to relaxed. I spread my hands as if to shrug at his smart ass words, and return with the silent comment, no problem you aren't my type either...you come with the wrong equipment. I hated wasting words though it didn't seem that he did. Some people, I'd found, needed to fill the air with noise, and their own voices seemed to do the trick - it was especially true when they were nervous or uncomfortable. I did chuckle - the effect was deep and growling - at his quip about the dry cleaning bill and nodded in a condescendingly accepting way. I didn't have to look around to know that we were getting looks, and until the silver plated gun had been pulled out, it had been somewhat bewildered curiosity from the few gym goers...now there was background noise to color the forefront of their confrontation.

There was no doubt a few upstanding citizens had called the fine law enforcement of our fair city to come to the rescue. I figured we had around five minutes, and with the grin growing wider I thought, plenty of time. Even if I didn't get the chance to put my hand through this mans chest and try to rip out his heart...the damage had already been done. There was always the chance that even with a scratch or bite, one wouldn't get infected...except with the method I'd used, it eliminated that chance by a startling ninety something percent. I was curious though, "is it starting to burn? Does it feel like something alive under your skin now?" I spoke low, softly, a gravelly timber flavoring the words to sound like a growl - despite the five or so feet between us, I knew he would hear me as if I was standing right in front of him.

I'd never just talked to a hunter, and I wanted to know oh so much. My pulse had steadied, but it was still up, just at a nice even pace (could he hear it?). I was practically able to taste the power from the weapon in his hand point blank for my head - get shot up enough times with the deadly force in something like that and you become more then aware of something like that. (Could he read me as easily as I could him?)

"Did you know you smell like Kinbok? Even from here I can smell it." My chest moved as I inhaled and took a step, it smelled like the ocean...very distinct. I had the sharp memory of what Matthew smelled like, and wondered if he had been in much pain in those last days as silver poisoning stained his veins. "Perhaps that is what attracts you to your little wolf." A flash of white straight teeth - blunt and nothing animal about it, but taunting at the thought. I said enough that revealed I knew plenty, or just enough to be disconcerting. "I also wondered if he will be angry enough to come hunt me down, after today...I wouldn't blame him for holding a grudge. We've given him more then enough incentive to after all." First his alpha, now his lover. The names Wicked and Truth were meant to be feared, or hated...either way, I was fine with it.

But enough teasing, for now. I can see he's getting a little upset with me.

"Sadly, we don't have much time to play today, Death, so can you give me an educated guess what was in the needle?" I raised an eyebrow, and gave into another slow step forward as if I wasn't even taking into account he had a gun pointed at me. (But believe me, I was.) "I'll give you a hint...most of the blood you pulled off your neck isn't your own."

I wanted him to move first - I wanted him that angry. I wanted to get past the undoubtedly calm place he put himself in to kill my...our kind and come at me. A lust for the spill of blood filled me and I allowed for the first time since starting this whole thing for my wolf to rise up a little, the power spilling, more then leaking, out from me like a rolling wave. But as choking as it would be...it wasn't even a fraction of what I could release.

[VIKTOR LORENZ ALSVIK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #78816a solid; border-bottom: 10px #78816a solid;] You better run, better run, outrun my gun You better run, better run, faster than my bullet Words: 1,504 || Tagged: Truth || Status: Complete I watched the wolf in front of me carefully. Just in seconds of observation I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t dealing with the run of the mill pup with a serious ego problem or something to prove to his pack. No, this was an old ass, over grown lap dog who had a shit ton of power with a whole hell of a lot of an ego problem. You could say I was getting a wee bit nervous at this point. It’s been a very long time since I’ve come across a werewolf of this caliber. It seems lately that the older ones are becoming few and far between or just hiding and letting their young little minions get their heads blown off. This was going to require a little more tact, and weapons for that matter, than I was prepared for today. If I could just get to my car that was parked just out front, I’d have enough weapons to arm a small army. I had a sinking feeling that this wolf wouldn’t let me get that close to the door in case I eluded him. I let out a laugh, my gun free right hand rose to rub at the back of my neck, my only nervous habit. My head bowed a little and my gaze flicked around the small room quickly. There wasn’t nearly enough room and far too many obstacles in here to be cooped up with any werewolf but especially one that seems to be as powerful as this one. With that quick glance around the room I saw the gawkers. My shoulders slumped a little and I shook my head. People these days. Damn. They just stood around watching what will unfurl. I can almost hear their thoughts chanting, ”fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.” Stick around for just a few moments longer and I have no doubt those morons will see far more than they bargained for. Those sticking around would put them at risk of being hit by a stray bullet; yes even I do miss sometimes but don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold. Or worse than a stray bullet they are in a small room with a werewolf who apparently has a serious grudge against me. I let out a sigh and said rather exasperatedly, ”people when a crazy man pulls a gun out you get the fuck out, not stand around gawking.” I had hoped that was enough to get people moving out of here before this shit went down. I’d rather not waste a bullet to get people moving. I smell like Kinbok? Well, from hunting bit bad beasties I knew that was one of the names of the two backs, the other being Vokul. Maybe that was the name of the pack that Barrett was from and that was what this wolf smelled. It’s not a fact that I’m proud of, but I’ve slept with Barrett and have even gone out on a date with him but I haven’t gathered enough nerve to ask any questions about his werewolf side. In all honesty it’s because I am terrified that I am going to get all weirded out and blow his head off. I like Barrett far too much to risk unleashing that darker part of me on him. I can honestly say that I’m more scared of what I’d do him than him to me. It was a little too eerie for me how my thoughts had just been on Barrett and this dog mentioned him. Good lord I have been careless and blinded by my comfort in my own abilities if I have been followed for them to know Barrett and me not even know about it. My body few even more still as my blood ran cold. Hunter education on oh one, never endanger those you care about. Never allow someone in that would be able to be used against you. I should really revisit old text books if I make it out of this; I’ve seriously gone lax in all my defenses. I struggled to not pull the trigger. He was just trying to get me going. I did have a passing thought of Barrett before I stilled my thoughts; I hoped he wasn’t in some kind of trouble because of me. Firstly I have to make it out of this then I can worry about Barrett later. I gave him a careless shrug, “I’m not that defenseless you know. I can stand my own grown; I am very creative when it comes to revenge. You should just hear some of the stories of what I’ve done to your kind. I don’t need him to hunt you down, I can do it on my own and I’m very efficient about it,” I said in a very cool tone. A twisted smirk pulled at the corners of my lips, “you keep calling me Death for a reason, don’t you?” At this point you could guess that I was freaking t he fuck out and you’d be right. I never let that panic that bubbled in my throat slip past my carefully placed mask. The blood… not mine… I looked down at my fingers that were still tinted red. His blood no doubt. Now that I took a moment I could smell wolf on my fingers even from a distance. He didn’t drug me with some kind of chemical. No, this was the lowest blow I’ve seen yet. He didn’t have the courage to attack me outright, he just had to be a coward and infect me like this. I struggled to keep my cool, never before have I had such a hard time keeping control over myself. I’m normally in absolute control over myself no matter the situation. My teeth gritted together in the effort of not throwing myself at the dog. ”Is it burning yet? Does it feel like there is something alive under your skin now?” His words from before just hit me like a ton of bricks. A heated and throbbing sensation radiated from my neck, from the point of the injection site. With each heart beat the burning moved further, spreading out from that one spot to move throughout my body. My brow narrowed a little. So he really did it. I guess congratulation is in order for being the werewolf to finally turn me. It was a matter of time really. Now I just had to wonder how long I was going to stay alive. Hunters turned werewolf are not something that the government wants around. Hunters that have been turned are even faster, stronger, and more powerful than the run of the mill werewolf as we already have stronger skills that are in our genetics. For as long as I’ve been a hunter I never really thought of the possibility of being turned. You could call it a bit of a god complex, I thought I was invincible, no one could touch me. It could never happen to me. With each burning pulse of my blood the reality of it shifted my world. Everything that I’ve had since I was just a kid was gone. I was no longer the hunter but the hunted. As soon as the word of me being infected gets back to my keepers there will be a bounty on my head. The only thing I have to rely on now is my knowledge of the system, their protocols of handling this kind of situation, who they will probably send after me. Already a list of things I need to do, items I need to get out of my house before I relocate. I had to move or at least go to some place where they wouldn’t find me, not until I had control over this beast that was now starting to take form within me. Everything has been turned upside down. Taken. Stolen. All because of him. Something inside of me snapped them. I couldn’t contain the fear and irrational rage that tore at me from the loss of everything I’ve ever known. Every muscle tightened in just a fraction of a second before I moved. I gave into exactly what this man clearly wanted. If he wanted a fight that is what he was going to get. At this point I was lost; I didn’t know where to turn. In my mind I’ve already lost everything and had nothing else to lose. There was Barrett… I just hope he’d understand if this didn’t end in my favor. With a steady hand, from doing the same motion thousands of times before, my finger squeezed the trigger of my gun to pop off a couple bullets in the dog’s direction. Long legs carried me across the small distance between the dog and myself. In the last second I dropped my shoulders before coming into contact with the man. My left hand rose, trying to get my gun against any piece of flesh that covered vital organs. CLOTHES: Black gym shorts, grey t-shirt, black and silver Nike running sneakers [/style] Run, Run, Run, Run. Run, Run.