Blac Werewolf Empire

The laws of my people must change. Those are the thoughts running through my head as I run for my life. The name is Albert Saint Preux. Son of RCMP Sergeant Mathieu Saint Preux and schoolteacher Anne D'Avignon. A young Black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario. I am also a Lycanthrope. What you ordinary human folks like to call us werewolves. We're not a supernatural breed. Just a species which has lived among humans since the Beginning. And we'll be there long after you're gone.

If you were to look at me, all you'd see is a six-foot-one, lean and muscular young Black man wearing a red silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland boots. And that's what you are meant to see. The ability to hide in plain sight is what has enabled my species to survive for untold ages among you savage humans. Yes, I am calling you humans savages. Why? Simply because it's what you are. You commit genocide, environmental thuggery and all kinds of horrors on a planetary scale and I'm the monster? Come on!

Anyhow, enough about my bouts of misanthropy. I am a member of the D'Avignon Pack. One of the oldest Packs of Lycanthropes out there. We trace our lineage from a purebred African werewolf named Ro-Thash. He came to the island of Haiti in the late 1790s and helped the Haitians defeat the French armies and win their War of Independence. Yeah, my family has a long history. We're all over the United States of America and Canada. Our prolific ways has attracted the envy and hatred of a rival Pack, the Verde.

The Verde Pack was formed in the early 2000s. Just a bunch of disgruntled werewolves from all over North America gathering in the city of Toronto. Outcasts from various Packs who thought they could form their own unit and upset the order of things. My grandmother Alicia D'Avignon is the Matriarch of the D'Avignon Pack. And she runs the city of Toronto smoothly. I guess in her kindness she tolerated the intrusion of these technically homeless werewolves. They were a weird bunch too. Rejects from Asian, Hispanic, Indian, African and European Packs. I saw these losers as an eyesore. And my grandmother tolerated their presence as long as they didn't interfere with our business. Now we're paying the price for her kindness.

A lot of people think of me as a hothead. At the University of Toronto, I'm one of the toughest football players you'll ever see. I had the opportunity to play for schools in the U.S. Most notably, Harvard University, Howard University and Virginia Tech wanted me. However, I turned them all down because my home is in Toronto. I can't leave my beautiful city undefended. Not even for a chance to play NCAA Division One Football. I am a Prince of the Pack. My grandmother has hand chosen me to replace her as leader when she's gone. She could have chosen her daughter or even her son-in-law, my father. Instead she bypassed them, along with quite a few experienced members of the Pack, and chose me. A lot of Pack members think my granny lost her mind. Personally, I'm flattered that she chose me but kind of shocked. I'm in my twenties. What do I know about politics?

Whatever. Like everyone else on this planet, I've got no choice but to play the cards I was dealt. It's my life. I just didn't think I'd be facing a Pack war so soon. The leader of the Strays, we label them, is a seriously twisted dude. His name is Brockton Reynolds. A big and tall white guy with red hair and green eyes. He's from Boston. He used to be an enforcer for a Pack of Irish werewolves in Beantown until they kicked him out. Now he's come to Toronto with his buddies, hoping to tear the place from our grasp. Fat chance of that happening. I love the city of Toronto but I'll see it burned to the ground before I hand it over to some American werewolf and his cronies. And I mean every word of this.

The Strays are gathering in numbers, man. And it is honestly starting to worry me. Last week, I was on patrol when I saw something really weird. A young man walking through a park with his girlfriend were attacked by a trio of wolves. Now, to the human world, it just seemed like just another random animal attack. There are all kinds of animals in the areas surrounding Toronto and sometimes they wander into the city. However, I knew these weren't real wolves but werewolves. I shape-shifted from my human form to my wolfish one. In a flash I became a large black wolf with blazing yellow eyes. And I went after the three bozos who dared attack a human couple in my city.

The three wolves stopped their attack on the human couple and came after me. Two of them were large, silver-coated males. The third was a slender female wolf with a black coat. She went straight for me. Roaring with fury, I attacked her. The other two joined the melee and the fight was on. I'm a damn good scrapper but I was outnumbered. I honestly think I would have gotten killed if I hadn't run off. Being forced to run wounded my pride but I didn't want to die. Besides, three versus one were hardly fair odds. I returned home limping and bloody. In wolf form, I am stronger and faster than anything human. I also heal quicker. However, in human form, I am just like everybody else. That's why it sucks to walk around in human form all day. In human form, a werewolf retains his or her sharp senses of sight, smell and hearing, but all of our other powers are gone.

I should have reported the attack to my grandmother. As the Matriarch of my Pack, she had a right to know. However, my wounded pride prevented me from telling my leader that I had my ass kicked. Besides, I had my enemies scent now. I would be able to track them anywhere. Especially the female werewolf. She's the one who injured me. She was faster than the other two. I swore to myself that I would make that bitch pay. I went to Ottawa to chill for a bit while recovering. I usually hate Ottawa. It's the most boring city in all of Canada. It lacks diversity and it's quite dull. Well, dull and boring is exactly what I needed after the extreme excitement of recent times.

I was walking around Saint Laurent Mall when I smelled a disturbingly familiar scent. I turned around, scanning the vast crowd full of humans. At once I located the source of the threatening scent. A tall, extraordinarily beautiful young Black woman clad in a black leather jacket over a blue T-shirt, blue jeans and boots. She looked at me with undisguised hatred in her beautiful eyes. I swallowed hard as I recognized the female werewolf from the previous night. The same one who attacked me. She walked right up to me. I forced myself to be calm and asked her what she wanted. The young lady introduced herself as Davina Sturgis, enforcer of Brockton Reynolds, Leader of the Pack of werewolves known as the Strays.

My eyes widened in surprise. This woman was the right hand of my Pack's ultimate enemy! Davina looked at me mockingly and asked me if my wounds had healed. It took every ounce of my strength not to morph into wolfish form and attack her. A fundamental law that all werewolves follow is that we don't reveal the existence of our species to humans. And the Saint Laurent Mall was packed with humans. Davina knew it. That's why she dared approach me like this. Through gritted teeth I told her that the Strays wouldn't last long in Toronto. The D'Avignon Pack has held the city since the late 1970s. And we weren't about to hand it over to some American werewolves.

Davina laughed and told me that if I couldn't handle a Detroit chick like her, I wouldn't stand a chance against a hardened Boston wolf-man like her leader Brockton Reynolds. Then she walked away. I watched her move through the crowd gracefully as she moved away from me. Davina is a seriously hot chick. Too bad she's a psycho who wants to kill me. Now I had no choice but to report what I had experienced to my grandmother. The Strays were gathering in number and they meant business. If they weren't afraid to go after the Prince of the Pack, they definitely didn't fear us. Damn. We were in for one hell of a fight.

The life of a werewolf is never easy, folks. You've got to always watch your back for dumb humans and wicked wolves. It's very rare for us to be able to relax. My family, my city and my life are in the balance. The Strays aren't playing. They threaten everything that I hold dear. I can't let them take that away from me. So I'm going after them. My grandmother isn't going to like this. Werewolves don't go after other werewolves while in human form. It's taboo to do so. But I think it might be the only way to beat the Strays. There are about three hundred members of the D'Avignon Pack spread over the Greater Toronto Area. The Strays outnumber us. And they're growing bolder by the minute. Who knows? Maybe next week they'll storm our strongholds. I can't allow that. That's why I'm building an arsenal of anti-werewolf weapons. Silver bullets. I'm going after the Strays while they're in human form. At their most vulnerable. Next time I see Davina or her Boss, I'm sending them straight to Hell. And I'm doing it the last way they'd expect me to.

I know that my actions will be condemned by every werewolf living on the planet. Even if I succeed in destroying the Strays, my Pack's Matriarch will have no choice but to punish me. Attacking another werewolf while he or she is in human form is the ultimate sin among our species. Human form is a disguise our ancestors evolved in order to survive as humans became the dominant species on the planet. Walking around in human form weakens us. Yet it's necessary. And it will be the undoing of the Strays. This is my last will and testament, probably. Whatever happens, I'm a dead wolf-man. Know that I do this to protect my family, my friends and my city. Toronto, I love you. Now wish me luck. I've got some American werewolves to slay.