Count Down to FURRY

[VIKTOR LORENZ ALSVIK]

CLOSED: for Nika/Gee

I have five days left. Just five short days left until I can no longer pretend that I've just lost my sanity and that I will become the thing I've hunted since childhood. I may currently be blissfully - by choice - unaware of the power growing inside of me, but my days are numbered.

Late at night while lying in bed, when I'm most relaxed the control I hold onto by just finger tips falls from my grip. I can hear, feel, and understand the wolf that is growing stronger inside of me by the day. In just the past couple days I have come to realize why the government is so keen ok killing hunters who become turned. You take someone with the genetics to be a killer then add them with the disease that combines them with the genes of a creature who has been killing for millennia. They have given me the power to be the worst killer of the likes no one has seen before. Or the key to the uprising of the werewolves, to turn the favor of the war permanently into the hands of the werewolves.

There are many obstacles I need to face. The most concerning for me currently is I am still a fledgling. A mere pup in the eyes of these werewolves who never aged and can live for vast spans of time. I have experience with werewolves, granted not being one, because my task of being a Hunter wasn't just going out and being a mindless killer. No, I was required to gather intelligence and figure out how a werewolf ticks. I may be inexperienced in the being a werewolf, but I am one up on the pecking order of those who are turned without knowledge.
I have been doing some real digging deep inside myself; trying to decide if I want to bite a bullet or see if I can make a name for myself as a werewolf. I don't ever want to be remembered as Death, the one deadliest Hunter who got himself turned at the gym and not out on a hunt. I could probably live easier with myself if I had been turned while I was out hunting. But somewhere in the cosmic scenes of things someone has a sick sense of humor. I've decided that I'm going to make the best of things. I still have some issues that I will have to resolve, but I will not tuck tail - since I will have one soon - and run like a coward. The best way I can continue living is to fully become one with my wolf and I'm working on doing so.

Part of being a Hunter allows you to feel werewolves. I've always been able to tell what I've been up against. I can tell where a werewolf is within a building, I could tell you how old that werewolf is roughly, but most important I can tell how powerful a werewolf is. The werewolf pack structure is all about power and who has the balls to use that power in any way they can to climb to the top, to be the biggest baddest dog out there. I know there is more to just kicking ass, such as protecting your pack members who don't have the power, keep your pack safe. I know from my past that I seem to have more power lurking within me, yet to even be released, than some of the even old werewolves. This fact I find most interesting.

Going into this new world that I have just been thrusted into is going to take an impressive display of power from the start so I don't continue as being a laughing stock. Most would probably wait until they have had their first shift, it is the most logical way after all. Not me though, I'm going to go big or... well I won't be going down the alternative path. I'm going to show them all the power I wield before I've even shifted, before I've even come into my true power. I'm going to remind them why they named me Death and told all the little wolfy children stories about me to keep them from misbehaving.

There are a lot of places that I could go where werewolves hang out frequently; there is one place though where I can study the werewolves without standing out too much. As much as “death” could blend in among werewolves that is… The Factory. The Factory is a down and dirty fighting ring. There is no politer way of putting it other than fighting ring. There are no rules and a chance of not waking out of your own accord… or at all. It might be risky going there without the ability to shift but I do have years of experience in fighting werewolves, sometimes I’d have to come to hand to hand combat with a werewolf if my weapons failed so this is nothing new to me.

It had been a long day with Barrett finally hunting me down, or at least trying to find me long enough where I finally gave up and talked to him. It was emotionally draining; a lot of it had to be the wolf constantly talking in the back of my mind, a constant growl of his displeasure to me submitting to Barrett. Barrett would be the only person I’d ever submit to, benefits of me being rather fond of the guy. The wolf doesn’t seem too convinced that I won’t just simply roll over immediately once another dominant wolf crosses my path. I guess I’ll be proving him wrong tonight.

From Barrett is exactly where I snuck away from to go to The Factory. Quietly I had gathered clothing and my boots and left the house in silence, only dressing when I reached my front porch where Barrett wouldn’t hear me. Dressed in black skinny jeans, black leather boots, and a simple light green tee shirt I started walking to The Factory. I didn’t take my car which was hidden in a different town’s parking garage. I’d have to buy a new one in the next couple days because I’m just tired of walking everywhere. My car stands out too much for me to drive right now, I love the thing too much to sell it, and it has pretty much been my home for the past several years with always being on the move.

Just as I had thought The Factory was packed with werewolves. The closer I got the higher the louder it got. From a distance the place hummed with activity, close up everything was almost deafening with jeers and screams from the crowd. Bright blue eyes scanned the crowed as I weaved between people, being careful to not brush up against anyone. There were faces of pure elation; obviously whoever they were betting on in this fight was winning. Then there were those who looked as if they were going to drop on the ground and shift any moment, their eyes glowing with their supernatural power, their rage bringing their wolf closer to the surface. I listened to my wolf, something I was seriously trying to work on doing since I’m going to be kind of stuck with him, and he was insisting for me to use my nose, to smell the emotions rolling off people. The one thing that hit me the strongest was the one thing I’ve always been able to distinguish over all else, the musky smell of wolf with their underlying perfume of trees, the forest, just nature. It was strange how the smell always seemed bitter to me before, but now it was sweet, something that almost drawing me to it. It smelt like home. Of course it did, wolves were pack animals. My wolf made small huffing noises in my head, clearly pleased to be around other wolves than Barrett.

The air shifted in a way that I’ve never liked, a way that meant that someone was going to try and hit me. I fought my own nature and let my wolf take the driver’s seat for a moment, since this was all about why I’m here. Obviously someone realized who I am finally, after being here for nearly an hour. I don’t know what I did other than stop thinking, I just shut myself down and handing control over to him and trusted him to get us through this. Everything came into sharp focus, with this I realized my eyes had bled to a molten gold. I ducked with a fluid speed that was even impressive for me as a Hunter; a fist came within centimeters of my face. I turned to see who was trying to knock my lights out, a werewolf who looked to be so angry his face was damn near purple.

There was recognition in his eyes when he saw that my eyes were no longer a brilliant shade of blue but the very similar gold that a lot of wolves have. You could see the recalculation in his attack but his second fist had already started its journey toward me again. I stepped to the side with an easy movement, my hand grasping his wrist and I used the momentum to turn me to the side. I stepped so my right leg was crossing in front of his right so when I used the momentum in his punch he stumbled which allowed me to pull his arm around his back and placed me safely behind him, away from the flying fists. I wrapped my free arm over his shoulder to tightly grab his chin, with using my height and strength, and of course the force on his arm that I was twisting; I pulled him backwards to expose his neck to me.

I had no ability to shift yet but the instincts were there with my wolf close to the surface and no place to go. With his throat to me I showed him who the dominant wolf was. Me. My teeth bit into the tender flesh on his neck. At first my teeth just set there but he didn’t relax into my grip, he still fought to free himself from me. A deep growl rumbled in my chest, I wasn’t playing any games. Each time he attempted to throw my grasp I pulled on his arm harder until I thought I was going to dislocate his shoulder. My teeth bared into his flesh until I tasted the sharp metallic taste of blood. I thought the blood was going to sicken me, but much to my surprise I liked the taste of it; I’m sure my wolf had something to do with that.

Finally he gave up. Every muscle just stopped fighting. Finally his sense of life preservation kicked in. I’m sure if I wasn’t holding him he would have fallen. Once he stopped fighting I released his arm and stopped biting him. The hold I had on his chin loosened but I didn’t let go, slowly as my golden gaze dragged across the shocked faces of those around us my tongue darted across the wound that I had created on him. Cleaning the wound much like true wolves did, a reward for his submission. It pleased me to hear his whimper, a soft sound from his wolf trying to beg my forgiveness. I may be new to being a lycan, but I know how to play the game.

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