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Liz the Tomboy
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Liz ran through the alley with all her might. Just barely dodging garbage cans and dumpsters has she ran like a bat-out-of-hell. Still not believing what just had happened before her eyes.
She had been out on the town with her new friend she had made at the bar she worked at. Unfortunately for her the bars her new friend liked to frequent were of the Sapphic nature. After being hit on for the third time by a vary drunken butch, Liz told her friend she wanted to go home and since it was a few blocks away from her apartment, she would be ok by herself.
Liz walked out of the bar heading in the direction of her apartment. When all of a sudden, she was grabbed roughly from behind and thrown into a nearby disserted ally.
She was on her feet ready for her attacker. She saw he had a switchblade knife out and started to lunge at her with it.
Liz dodged the lunges and delivered a round house kick to the hand that held the knife. Her attacker locked at his hand like he was dumb-founded. Seeing he was distracted she decided to finish him off.
She manages to land several well placed kicks to the upper torso, not noticing that any of them made him falter. The last kick she was able to get off was aimed at his head. It didn't land at all. Her attacker caught it, and sent her flying several feet away. To land amongst several garbage cans.
When she managed to get to her feet, she couldn't believe what she was seeing happen right before her eyes.
Her would-be-attacker was...... for a lack of a better name...... transforming into– a... a... a... a Werewolf.
And so here she is, running for her dear life.
Liz turned just turned a corner onto a dead end street when she felt a powerful slap that sent searing pain shot through her entire body as she landed several yards away in a crumpled heap. She just barely managed to sit up when she heard it start to talk.
"Yooooouuuuu'rrrrrreeeee miiiiiiiinnnnneeee nnnnooooooooowwwwwwwww, biiiiiiiiitccchhh!" the Lycan said menacingly has it stalked towards his intended victim. "Firrrrrsssssttttt, I'mmmmm goooooinnnnnggggg tooooo ssssllllack mmmy luuuusssst wiiiitttthhhh yooooooouuuuuurrrrrrr boooooodddyyy. Theeeennnn I'mmmmm goooooiiinnnggg ttoooo eat yooouuuuuuuuu oooooooooooooow!"
"P–Please, I–I'm b–be–begging of y–yo–you d–d–don't k–ki–kill me......" Liz stuttered softly, as she painstakingly tried to slide back away from the Lycan.
The Lycan seen what she was doing, and lunged at her with his right hand claws extended to deliver the equivalent force of an upper-cut. Liz caught it in the chest lifting her off the ground. Sending her crashing against the wall, knocking the wind out of her, to land hard on the ground with a muted thud. Liz had enough strength to raise her head to look at the Lycan. "Conlan, is that you? Get aw-......" Liz barely whispers as she sees Conlan transform right before her eyes. This being the last thing she remembers before she passes out from the searing pain.
-*-*-*-*- Conlan -*-*-*-*-
At first glance, you might say Conlan is a typical handsome young man, standing at 6'5", 250 lbs., cobalt blue eyes, and bluish-black hair. That is, if you didn't know him like his longtime best friend Liz did. At least the side she knows.
Conlan has a secret, a very dangerous one at that. A secret that not even Liz, his best friend since the fifth grade, knows about.
You see Conlan is what you might call a Lycanthrope. In his case Conlan is a North American White-Timber Werewolf. Since he is considered both by the local pack leaders and the Lycan Coalition as a "lone wolf." Conlan is allowed to take on certain side jobs that the packs and Lycan Coalition can't handle due to internal Lycanthrope political problems. In other words he is a problem fixer. If one of the local pack members goes should go rogue. Conlan would be contracted to "deal" with the rogue were-creature.
On this particular evening, Conlan was on assignment from the Lycan Coalition. It seems that a psychotically deranged human killer had somehow gotten bite by a Werewolf. Thus, turning an already mentally unstable human. Into an even more deranged psychotic killer than before. A normal psychotically deranged human is bad in itself but give that particular human the abilities of a Werewolf. Well let's just say it's like giving Adolph Hitler access to modern-day tactical and combat training. In other words not good at all!
"Hmmm...... {sniff, sniff}...... this way," said Conlan, as he got wind of the rogues scent. He followed the scent for several blocks until, "{sniff, sniff}... a second scent...... {sniff} it smells familiar............ naw it can't be......" Conlan was still sniffing around the alley when he came across piece of a torn shirt. Raising it to his nose, he inhaled deeply. "LIZ!"
Running has fast he could in human form; Conlan tracked Liz's scent six blocks away where she was being attacked by the deranged Lycan. He arrived just in time to see the Lycan send Liz sailing through the air to land hard enough against the wall to knock the air out of her. "Conlan, is that you? Get aw-......"
That was all he needed to hear. Conlan transforms as he tackled the deranged Lycan from behind. Howling his anger has he lands on his prey stunning the Lycan for a moment. And a moment was all he needed. Rolling to his feet, Conlan lunged at the other Lycan with his razor sharp teeth bared.
Slamming the psychotic Werewolf to the ground, Conlan locked his jaws around his preys throat and ripped it right out. After swallowing the piece of flesh in his mouth, Conlan went over to Liz to check on her.
"Several small paper cut like lacerations across the back and deeper lacerations going from just above the navel all the way up to just below the neck line," said Conlan. "If it had been any other human female, I would have said it was a fluke you were able to survive this long. But it wasn't and other human female, it was you Liz and it wasn't a fluke either."
Reaching inside his jacket that was two sizes to big, Conlan pulled out his cell. "............ Hello?" said a voice over the line. "This is Lightning Barron," replied Conlan. "The line is secure... go ahead." "The rogue has been decommissioned, permanently. Requesting a clean up crew at the dead end ally behind the old abandoned theater situated between the Firestorm Pack territory and the Razor Pack territory." "Roger that Lightning Barron, crew's ETA is twenty minutes."
"Advice, that there may be a complication," said Conlan. "What kind of complication?" "An old friend of mine, who is human, somehow got snared in the psychopaths trap." "Can you handle it or does one of our 'Specialists' have to take care of it?" "Considered it handled, sir." "Good, a pleasure doing business with you as always Lightning Barron."
With that done Conlan kneeled down next to his unconscious friend, gathered her up in his arms ever so gently and walked out of the alley to his car which was parked twelve blocks away.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Conlan's Compound twenty miles out side the city. -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
After putting his customized Delorean in park, Conlan sat there looking at the still unconscious form of his best friend. {I just hope Liz won't hate me for not telling her about my true nature. After all we've been friends since the fifth grade.}
Reaching for the door handle, Conlan let the gull-wing door left up, got out and went to the other side of the car. Opening the passenger side door, he bent down, gathered his friend up in his arms and walked inside.
When he was inside the house, Conlan laid Liz down on the couch. Conlan looked at the unconscious form of his friend. {5'9" 160 lbs. blond hair, Electric Green eyes and a hard core, in your face, rough and ready, ball bust'n, Great American Bad Ass, tomboy to boot. If only she knew how much love her... maybe she would consider becoming my–....... hold it right there... Liz is your friend... your best friend to boot...... friends don't do friends.} With a mental shrug he went down stairs to the basement to retrieve a med-pack from the infirmary.
