We stood on the top of the overlooking hill, our furry haunches twitching in anticipation. All it took was the pointed command of Tony Rockster's lieutenant, and we were off like the wraiths of Odin's wild hunt across that pitiful town called Oaks Haven. The frosty night air wasn't enough to chill my hot, thumping blood.
The rules were simple. Capture the three flags across town, hold on to them until you got to the clubhouse, and your spot in the biggest, baddest werewolf gang was guaranteed. Also, no killing the other players or civilians. Other than that, everything else was permitted. Just my style.
That gang was known as the Moon Crawlers to us werewolves. The gang was known as an utter menace to everybody else; when in fact, the Moon Crawlers were one of the least violent werewolf gangs around. Relatively speaking, that was.
My rivals and I were one of the lucky ones. Sometimes other gangs organized last-wolf-standing brawls, said last wolf getting entry into the gang. Sometimes they ordered recruits to perform rituals that stripped them of their last crumbs of humanity. Tonight, all I had to do was the race, no killing of any kind allowed.
Tony Rockster was known as a relatively kind gang lieutenant for the Moon Crawlers. He hated to see pointless blood spilled, especially blood that belonged to wolfkind. A dangerous position to take among his crowd, but by the Luna Mother, was I glad to be undertaking his recruitment challenge. I could've easily gone to Seyah "Knife Skin" Kruger two towns over. She loved to see anybody bleed, and that wasn't my plan for the night.
The familiar fingers of chilled night air combed through my fur like the hand of a lover. Mother Luna displayed her pregnant belly, gracing my opponents and I with enough energy for the entire night. I needed to reach the second flag. It was on top of a general store. I jumped on top of a car for a quick boost, shattering all its windows like my feet were a sonic boom, and scrambled up the brick wall of the store, reaching the flag. Two down, one more to go.
I jumped off the roof and rolled into the street below. I ran towards the final flag, far on the northern end of the town on top of a radio tower. I glanced to my side, just in time to catch the glint of Kelly's orange eyes right before she slammed into me. She hit me like a diesel truck weighed down with lead, sending us through a diner's broad window.
The diner patrons started screaming, adding to my annoyance at getting side blinded. I tossed Kelly off me and got back to my feet. Fists at the ready, we went back and forth for a few seconds. Neither of us inflicted truly skull-cracking, bone-breaking blows. Most of our punches were either glancing or dodged by one another.
I saw Kelly's eyes widen. She hit the floor - fast. I turned my head backwards. Another surprise attack. Behind the kitsch, red, retro-futuristic long diner table, somebody who I assumed to be the owner pointed a double-barrel shotgun in my direction. Perhaps he was ready for werewolf intrusions. Perhaps he liked to protect his property which I now violated. Whatever the reason, he sent me earthbound with two barrels full of back-busting buckshot.
As I waited for my spinal cord to reassemble itself into something near functional, Kelly plucked one flag from my jeans pocket. Fuck. She hopped through the window frame, and towards the northern radio tower. Double fuck. Just as the patrons and the shotgun-wielding owner were about to inspect what they thought was my corpse, I managed a burst of desperate, clumsy speed through the window. My spinal cord was still piecing itself back together and I could hardly walk, much less run. A dark shape brushed past my thigh. I looked down, my remaining flag was nowhere to be seen. Crowley, the sneakiest werewolf bastard I've ever had the misfortune of meeting, chuckled somewhere ahead of me. Triple fuck.
Massive disadvantages aside, I soldiered onward. Minutes later, my spine healed, allowing me to run at top speed again. I heard the familiar murmur of police sirens and ignored them. I caught up with Kelly, and we reacquainted each other with fists and kicks. Fatigue got the best of me after a few solid hits. To finish me off, Kelly punched me so hard in the chest, my ribs exploded like a fragmentation grenade into several of my vital bits. I struck the ground coughing blood, half-conscious.
Kelly stood over me, gloating over my broken form. From the corner of my blurred vision, I saw the ever elusive Crowley sneaked up on her, torn-off car mirror in hand. He smashed the back of her skull with a devastating blow that floored her, dropping her face first onto the pavement. Crowley snatched her flags, running off towards the tower with maniacal laughter. Me and Kelly agonized on the pavement, out of commission.
Eventually, blue and red lights bathed us. I hardly breathed while Kelly murmured nonsense. The poor girl was working out some brain damage. Even for werewolves, a blow like that crippled even the strongest of us for several minutes. Several cops shouted at us, ordering us not to make a fucking move. Like I could if I wanted in that movement.
The cops cuffed Kelly. A lone daredevil made his way towards me. Taking full advantage of this, I grabbed him by the throat and hopped to my feet, my claw ready to do desperate actions.
"Who wants to play the hero?" I taunted. I needed to buy time. Just a little bit more, and my ribs were good to go. "Well? I've killed before. Have any of you?"
The cops trained their pea shooters on me. Under normal conditions, their pistols would've had the effect of shooting paper wads at a battle cruiser. Right now, a bullet to my healing body would've spelled a death sentence. Cop in hand, I made a mad dash for the tower.
I ran and ran and ran some more for extra measure. Tired of the terrified dead weight in my hand, I tossed him. With him gone, I hauled ass towards the radio tower in the forest. At the forest's edge, I activated my night vision, ready for any of Crowley's possible dirty tricks.
To my luck, nothing or nobody stopped me. I examined the steel wire gate guarding the radio tower's enormous base. Crowley ripped open the steel fence like tin foil. I crawled through. Above me, I saw the sneaky bastard leisurely easing his way up the tower, dozens or so feet above the ground. Rage boiling in my veins, I practically ran up the tower. "Motherfucker!" I screamed.
As I scrambled up the black iron tower, a sizable rock smashed into my left shoulder, damn near dislocating the thing. I nearly fell fifteen feet from the ground but hooked my right claw into solid steel. I looked up. Standing tall in his cocky fashion was Crowley, an armful of rocks and a mouthful of smug. He threw another rock that I deftly dodged. He continued his moderately paced climb. I slowed down as well, another hit like that and I could end up like Kelly, a broken, slurring mass on the ground.
This game of dodge rock continued until we neared the tower's red, glowing peak. Crowley was getting desperate, his latest throws were panicked tosses instead if measured actions. The sneaky shit was no good at close combat and we both knew it. He was also running low on ammunition just as I was running low on patience for his antics. In one final, desperate performance he simply dropped the rest of his rocks on my heads like an overrun castle defender. Some hit painfully hard, but I managed to catch a rather hefty one. I got on top of a steel section and threw so hard my arm stung a bit later on.
It slammed into his jaw with an audible crack. Crowley fell like a midnight Icarus seeking the moon. He collided with several sections of the tower before striking earth as a heap of barely living wolfmeat. "Ha! Return to sender!" I shouted downwards. Seconds later, I tore my rightful prize from the tower. I howled to the Luna Mother in sheer gratitude.
Side by side, we sat on our knees in front of Tony Rockster. To my left was Crowley, frowning. To my right was Kelly, frowning as well. I was in the middle, smiling like a goofy bastard at Tony's magnificence. Around us all was the Rockster Clubhouse, an abandoned country club turned werewolf hangout. Several other wolves of varying levels of intoxication hooted and jeered at us. Hip-hop blared in some distant room. A thin haze of weed smoke lined the air.
I hated to admit it, but the gentle, commanding strength Tony Rockster was alluring on multiple levels. His bulky, towering, six-foot plus height said he could take anybody in a fight. On the flip side, his mellowed green eyes and air of confidence spoke of practical pacifism. He was made of the material leaders were sculpted from.
Even in the crowded room, his voiced boomed over the rowdy crowd. "Hey!" He shouted. "Quiet down before I need to start crackin some heads." His jovial tone pacified the crowd. He sipped on his beer.
In that moment, I felt utterly exposed. Being on your knees tended to do that. Tony spoke and everybody listened.
"He we see tonight are three wolflings looking to make their mark on our world. Instead of focusing on what I have to say, how about I ask them for their introductions?" The crowd cheered on. Tony pointed at Crowley. "You, Crowley, with the dark, shifty eyes, introduce yourself and tell me how Gerald beat you."
"I'm Crowley Mason. I'm not sneaky because I want to, I'm just terrible at going toe-to-toe with other wolves. Gerald kicked my ass because I got cocky and started throwing rocks at him on the radio tower. He caught one. Threw it back. And here we are." Crowley looked defeated in place of his cockiness. Good. "My jaw still tingles." The crowd laughed at him.
"Settle down with that. This isn't a public shaming session, folks," said Tony. "Kelly, our lady of the night, introduce yourself and tell me how Gerald got the jump on you."
"My name is Kelly. It was actually Crowley who kicked my ass, but Gerald deserves a shout out for being such a tough motherfucker." Kelly smirked at me. "You can't keep this kid down."
"Even in defeat your opponents respect you, Gerald," Tony said. "That's a good sign. You're a real team player, huh?"
