Wolven: The Hunted

[Setg]

Well this idea started in a sandwich shop.(don't ask why) I wanted to do a hunter/killer kind of storyline about a supernatural style hunter, but then decided I enjoyed RPing as Wolven in The Palace so much he would get his own fiction. So here goes.

Kyle Johnson shifted slightly, moving the weight from, his upper body to his lower. He needed to keep the blood flowing, to keep what warmth he had in this gilly suit, in this god-forsaken forest in the middle of Nebraska. Sometimes he hated this job, the cold, the waiting. But sometimes it was all he lived for, that moment when he pulled the trigger, or sank the blade home. Pure bliss.

He was laid up in the suit and had been for 2 hours, even since dusk had fallen over the forest. He hadn't see his prey yet, but he had listened intently when the beast's mournful howl broke the night not 30 minutes ago. Now he was waiting. For his bait. As if on cue, the 67 Mustang rolled right into sight, idling for a few seconds before the engine cut out. The interior light flicked on, and he saw the bait. Joey Parer was the local town's best boy. All-star quarterback for the local team, rich parents, and dating the town's hottest peice of ass, Madeline Ellis. He'd heard the rumours of the folks dissapearing and thought it was bullshit. Typical bravado, thought Kyle. It was a shame the kid had to die tonight.

More to follow - got ot go out.

[Spooky]

It's great, Set'g! This bit has got me interested, what's happening to Joey, who Kyle Johnson really is.
I was wondering why it would be cold in Nebraska (assuming it's desert) but when it said dusk had fallen I got the idea...

Looking forward to more.

[Setg]

Kyle pulled back the chamber of the rifle, and checked the cartridge that was in there. He saw the jacketed silver round, gleaming in the silver of moonlight that managed to filter through the trees. Easing the slide back in place, he judged the wind and adjustedthe sights on the high powered rifle accordingly; if he was going to take the shot tonight, he had to make it count.

He'd first heard of the dissapearances a while ago, from a contact in the FBI. Couples, hikers, the odd dog had all gone missing near a Nebraskan forest recently, and with no apparent cause or trace. The local police were baffled, this kind of nothing never happened, and they weren't sure exactly how to deal with it.

Kyle had.

He'd never beleived in monsters. Not until one nearly tore his heart out. It was only his father's old crucifix that had saved him. The vampire had started to burn when the blessed metal made contact with the creature, and caused it to burn to death. Since then Kyle had learnt that there really were things that went bump in the night.

And he was their hunter.

He'd made quite a reputation as a hunter previously, and found that the role of supernatual hitman was quite a niche market. To his knowledge, there was only another 2 here in the US, Mark Jacobs over in Seattle, and Peter North over in California. He'd spoken to both quite a bit. They weren't particularly close, but respected each other as fellow hunters, and it was Peter's contact in the FBI that gave him the information on the dissapearances, and after some careful research and stakeouts, he found the reason for the dissapearances.

He'd only killed one werewolf before. It was a tough SOB, took 7 rounds from his 9 mil just to put it on the ground, before he got chance to finish it off with the silver dagger he had custom made. This was the reason for the rifle tonight. He wanted to take no chances, knew that once the wolf was feeding, it would lose all concentration on it's surroundings and would give Kyle the perfect chance to put a silver peice of Hell right between it's eyes.

He glanced over and saw the delightful couple starting to fool around. This spot was quite a find for couples wanting to get down and dirty, although the recent dissapearances had made it less appealing. He knew that Joey wouldn't heed these warnings. He was too damn egotistical to be scared by some half-baked scare story. It was the kid's attitude that made the job slighly easier to do. He hated to use humans as bait, especially when he knew the bait was going to die, but he knew the only way to get the clear shot would be when the wold was feeding, and Joey being an *s'yuit-de* made the role of slightly easier tonight.

As if on cue, a howl split from deep in the forest. Kyle felt the first surge of adrenaline start to spike through him, and he scanned the treeline opposite for signs. Although the moon shone full and brightly, he still struggled to see the wolf. He saw the odd glimpse of fur and the occaisonal moving branch as it moved through the trees opposie the clearing ahead of him towards it's prey. It let out another howl, and Kyle saw the couple look around anxiously. As if on request, Joey climbed out of his side of the car, and went to the trunk, popping it open and coming out with a baseball bat.

"Come on out *s'yuit-de*" shouted Joey, This *c'jit* ain't funny."

He saw Madeline adjust her bra and climb out of her side of the care, glancing round nervously.

"C'mon Joey, lets just go, okay?"

"Hell no," snorted Joey, "I'm not scared of some dumb shi...."

The rest of the sentence never got finished, as the wolf hit Joey hard, taking him to the ground in a spurt of crimson. Blood flowed furiously, and sprayed from his neck over the car as he fell to the ground, the dark shape of the wolf riding him down. Madeline started to scream and then realising the situation, decided to do what every panicky human being did in a trauma situation; she ran, straight towards the treeline where Kyle was positioned.

Kyle almost chuckled at the futility of it. This creature was an experienced hunter. It had taken down the strongest of the pair first, leaving the second for later. The wolf hit her hard with all it's weight, probably breaking her spine as it landed on her from behind. It sank it's teeth down hard into her neck and ripped, a large chunk of Madeline's neck comin away with the bite, and dark blood running out into the grass.

Kyle knew that this was the moment he needed. As he watched the wolf feed, he carefully moved the rifle into position, making sure he didn't make a sound. He sighted down the scope, and trained it on the wolf's face as it fed hungrily on the girls neck and shoulders. As he released the safety, he held his breath, and started to ull the trigger when the wolf stopped feeding abruptly. He hesitated, unsure whether to take the shot or not. Then something happened which made Kyle Johnson's blood run cold. The wolf looked up, so it was looking directly at him. He knew it must be an illusion, that the wolf's eyesight wasn't THAT good, to be able to see a heavily camoflauged hunter hiding in a dark treeline 60 yards away. He readied himself for the shot and stopped dead. The wolf's half human face seemed to contort into an expression, and it took him a second to recognise the emotion; a smile, followed by a wink.

Kylel knew he had been made, and reached down and pulled the trigger, a half second too slow. The wolf leapt to the side, as the bullet impacted into the treeline behind the car, on the other side of the clearing. He glanced round through the sight, and saw nothing. Throwing the rifle to the ground, he grabbed his M16 and night vision goggles he had blown one jobs reward on, and ran out of the clearing. He looked around, the eeire greens of the goggles casting unreal shadows over the area. He couldn't see anything moving.

Suddenly a barking howl cut though the silence. Kyle spun in the direction of the howl and let off a volley of shots, the bullets whizzing into the treeline. Suddenly, another howl erupted behind him, in the clump of trees behind him. He spun round, and dropped to one knee, firing another volley of shots. He was starting to panic now, could feel the adrenaline overload, spinning wildly, he moved towards the car. He felt like a goddam deer being hunted, it was supposed to be the other way around.

Taking one last glance, and seeing nothing, he moved round the side of the car where Joey's body lay, and grabbed the door handle. A low trickling growl sounded in his ear, and as he started to turn around, a hot blast of foul smelling, blood soaked breath washed over him. As he completed his turn, he saw the wolf stood before him, it's fur raised in hackles and it's razor sharp teeth bared in an angry snarl. He had just enough time to feel his bladder release, before the wolf tore his thoat out in one swift gesture, his eyes glassing over as Kyle Johnson's blood ran through the grass in dark rivulets.


((Well, this is the prologue - when my fingers start to work again I'll work on it some more - although i have no idea whats going to happen next - anyone who knows me knows I write as it comes into my head - this post was though up as it was written))

[Still Churchill]

well, this is pretty good. Whenever you think of the next part, I'll read it, but I didn't disect it. I am going to read it better some other time, but as of now, good job, and keep it up. One of the best things from it is how easily it was to "see" for me. I'll look forward to reading the rest.

[Setg]

***2 YEARS EARLIER***

Steve cursed himself as he rode. He knew he'd run late, knew it. He always was too soft. He should have left the store where he worked part-time and gone when his shift finished. But no, Mr Gullible had to wait for Sara to turn up late, AGAIN, just so she could thank him with a dazzling smile and a peck on the cheek.

And know he was making himself pay for it. He wanted to be home before the dark had settled in, but it was too late for that. He'd heard stories recently, of dogs and cats found mauled near the edge of the forest. The local police had investigated and found nothing. Sheriff Brierly was blaming it on a wild dog, but most people in town didn't believe him, and Steve was one of them.

He'd managed to convince Dean, a buddy who worked at the Sheriff's office to let him have a look at one of the dead pets. He'd spent quite a few years hunting, and he'd never seen an animal he knew cause that much damage before. He'd laughed at the tales of wolves and bogeymen in the forest, but even now, as he sped past the forest edge on his cycle on the way home from the store, he put that little extra speed in his legs.

He was pretty much home, as he approached the little bridge over the stream that ran by the row of houses where he lived on the edge of the forest. He could even see the Jacobsen's house at the end, with the family getting ready to go out. As he crossed the bridge, he thought he saw a shadow moving fast over to his left near a clump of trees. He slowed down and glanced over, and saw nothing. Tightening the brakes, he stopped completely and listened.

As a hunter, he'd learned many years ago to use all of his senses when he hunted. His grandpa had taught him the ways of the hunter many years ago, and he still remembered one of the old dogs sayings:

"It's not the weapon that makes the hunter dangerous, it's the hunter himself."

His grandpa had been sick of all the new hunters with their fancy new rifles that could shoot a hole in a dime at 2 miles away. His grandpa always preferred the traditional means of hunting, with a bow and a knife, using his own skills and tracking abilities rather than relying on technology, and Steve had followed that style of hunting. The only time he had fired his rifle was to put a young doe out of her misery when he found her caught in a bear trap, just before he flung the trap in the lake.

Any fool could set a trap - it took skill to hunt.

He used his skills now to try and see if anything was out there. He peered into the trees and realized it was too dark to see anything, the light coming from the street was ruining his night vision, so he stopped trying to see. Instead he listened. At first he heard nothing, then the faint rustling of fur on brush. He'd heard the sound before and knew something was in there. Maybe it was a wild dog like the Sheriff said.

He reached behind his back and unclipped his hunting knife from the sheath, bring it around slowly. He wasn't going to try and hunt the dog but it was best to be prepared for any eventuality. He listened again, and this time heard a faint growling, trickling from the tree line. the growl confused him, it sounded nothing like any animal he'd ever heard before, and the nearest creature he could liken it to was a wolf, but there hadn't been any reports of wolves in the forest for over 20 years, since before he was even born.

Realizing that confrontation was probably not the best idea, he slipped the blade into his jacket pocket, and with a quick motion, gripped the pedals of his bike heard with his trainers, and started pumping his legs hard as he sped off in the direction of the street.

He was roughly 3 feet from the Jacobsen's driveway when something hit him, hard, knocking him from his bike to the ground. It felt like he'd been hit by the neighbor's Camaro again, like when he was 9, only this time he felt intense pain.

Before he had a chance to recover, the creature was on him.

In the dark he couldn't see much, he could only see the flash of fur and fangs as it tore into his side, and his blood started to pour out. Instinct took over and he started to scream raggedly. His left arm wasn't working, but he still had a little movement in his right, which he used to fumble in his pocket until it came out grasping his knife. He slashed frantically at it's mouth as it came near, feeling the blade catch skin a couple of times but nothing that would cause serious damage. Then the strangest thing happened. The wolf stopped snapping, and reared up onto what looked almost like back legs. Steve thought he was seeing things, it's legs almost looking human. The wold leaned down and grabbed his hand with the knife in, impossibly fast, and squeezed until he felt his bones break and he dropped the knife in anguish. He stumbled backwards as the wolf loomed toward him, and he started to cry as he realized that he was about to
die, when he heard a shout.

"Hey"

The wolf seemed to stop, and he heard a gunshot ring out and a scream. The wolf's chest suddenly sprouted a red blossoming hole, and it fell backward with a shriek of pain. Steve started to cough blood and saw the wolf shakily get up, and lope back to the tree line. He heard more gunshots, no rifle shots, and saw the face of Mrs Jacobsen loom above him. She was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't make out the words, and as he tried to talk back, the world fell dark around him.

[econdha]

w00t! Where's the rest??? *looks around, hoping to find it hidden behind a rock or something*

[Still Churchill]

There was some spelling errors but other than that it was great, your a good storyteller, and again I'll look forward to seeing the rest.

[Setg]

As he made his way silently through the darkened hallways Henry Phillips hummed a delightful little tune to himself. He always enjoyed this kind of work, although sometimes it bored him. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, the chase, and the kill. To take one asleep in it's bed before it had even had time to change, well, he didn't see the honour in it.

Still, "desperate times called for desperate measures" he reminded himself quietly as he walked. He was part of a group of scientists and hunters, who had found out that creatures like werewolves, and vampires, and other non-human creatures existed. They were abominations before God, and their group's aim was to send as many of the unholy creatures back to Hell as they could.

He reached his destination, and as he stopped, his polished black shoes squeaked on the freshly polished hallway of the ICU. He was dressed in full doctor regalia, a throwback to his old days of when he really was a doctor. It had all changed when his sister had been bitten. A vampire. An unclean vermin, had bitten her, and it had broken something inside of Henry that night, to tie her down, and drive a wooden stake through her heart as she begged for her life. Since that day, he had devoted himself to doing God's work, destroying all the demons they could find.

And tonight they would claim one more.

The poor soul had been attacked, seemingly by a large dog according to the eyewitnesses, and brought her to St Josephs' two days ago. It took 4 full nights for a werewolf to fully change, so it was imperative that they strike now. The group, the Saviour's Of Mankind's Evolution, or SOME, as they were known, had contacts all over the country. His contact here had been an elderly nurse named Doreen. She'd tipped him off a day ago, and he'd spent the following day trekking up to the hospital to his target.

He looked into the room at the victim, as he reached into his pocket and found the syringe he needed. Phenocyclozamine was a heavy duty muscle relaxant, which was perfect for causing an almost untraceable death. The muscles in the body relaxed so much, that the internal organs just slowed down too much to keep the body alive. The drug dissipated within a matter of minutes, so that the only possible cause of death could be natural causes. The only downside, was that it had an adverse effect in werewolves. For some unknown reason, if it was given to an already changed human/wolf, it had the reverse effect. It tightened the muscles and caused the body to go into hyper-drive, often bringing about the change in a human form. This was why the timing was essential. In two days time, if the drug was administered, it could cause the victim to change into the wolf and rip him apart.

Which was why he was here now.

Sliding the syringe into his palm, he pushed the door open gently, and made his way into the room. The poor young man had no idea what hit him, as often they didn't. He sighed and said a prayer for the boy's soul as he made his way over to the bed. He looked at the tubes and machines, keeping the boy stable, yet knew too well, the boy's miraculous recovery two days from now would be down to something more sinister than modern medicine.

With a quick cursory glance behind to make sure no-one was watching at the window to the room, he grabbed the syringe, and found a vein. He jabbed the needle in sharply, and depressed the plunger, sending the drug coursing through the victim's body. Grabbing the syringe cap, he turned and headed for the door; he had no need to watch, the drug took effect almost instantaneously, and the victim would die quietly in his sleep.

As he opened the door though, the heart rate monitor started to beep faster and faster. Horror filled his mind, as he realized the drug was taking the adverse effect. It was impossible! The boy had been brought straight in two days ago, the change should be at the very least a day and half away!

Realizing he had no other choice, he pulled his backup, a pure silver dagger, from his jacket. He strode across to the bed, raising it above his head and he readied himself to strike........


Ohhhhhhhh....cliffhanger. I'll finish up tomorrow.

[econdha]

Ohhhhhhhh....cliffhanger. I'll finish up tomorrow.

WHAT?!

I hate you, Setg.

[Setg]

Yeah well, it was late and I was tired. Don't worry there's more to come.

[0darkblade0]

There'd better be, I just read the whole lot....and I'm simply amazed, this stuff is better than most PROFESSIONALLY PUBLISHED (hint hint) books that i've read.

[Chidori]

*Looks at malus*Are ya talking about that there forever midnight crap?*pulls up a copy and throws it at a bum*I wouldnt use that book to wipe my butt, belive it!

Anyways, back on topic, Very cool Set'g, i love werewolves, and i love em even more when they kick human axe, so keep up the good work.

[econdha]

I've read a lot of books (or at least the beginnings of books) that aren't nearly as well written as Setg's work. In fact, there's a lot of books that get published that are crap.

This is due in part to the fact that editors are so inundated with crappy manuscripts (people send in their books without bothering to run them through spell check) that anytime they get anything that's in the right format and makes any kind of sense, they throw it directly to the printing presses.

(For an example of this, see the Hellboy novelization.)

Many of the RPers here are far better writers than some well known authors. If you don't believe me, take a look at the last 6 books in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. (books 6-11) That guy has had 11 books published in this series as well as the vast majority of the Conan the Barbarian books, and any of the top 10 writers here could write circles around him!!

*winks at Setg'* You might consider sending something in. Relieve us all of the monotony of crappy writers who have flooded the market. Think about it.

[Setg]

Meh, short stories are one thing, but a full book, an actual novel would be an immense challenge. Most of the time it's actually getting the time to sit and write that I struggle with.

Anyhow, I'm glad the workings of my twisted imagination are being appreciated, it's nice when you write for fun and people appreciate it.

[Setg]

The dagger raised high, Henry strode toward the bed. The situation had gone FUBAR, but he had to finish the job and quickly. As he neared the bed, before he could reach his target, the boy's eyes fluttered open, and with almost impossible speed, he leaped out of the bed and grabbed Henry's raised arm with one hand, and his throat with the other.

Henry made a gurgling sound as he realized he couldn't breathe, and tried to look down into the boy's eyes. They fluttered quickly, from left to right, scanning the room.

"Wh-where am I?" the boy asked croakily.

Henry tried to answer, but the sound came out a gargled murmur, as the boys grip on his throat showed no signs of relenting. He finally managed to utter "Hospkhghal", although it took an immense effort. The boy dropped his arms away from Henry, and staggered backward, the defensive tactics he had deployed an unwitting part of the wolf breaking through, Henry thought to himself. The poor soul didn't even realize he was doing it.

Henry decided to try and play the boy's confusion to his advantage.

"Son," he managed to croak, "my name is Doctor Phillips and you're in a hospital, I was just checking up on you when you grabbed me."

"Gr-grabbed you? What the Hell's happening to me" muttered the young man, leaning back against a wall. His eyes and his heart were beating faster than he had ever felt before, and as leaned against the wall, the cold concrete felt soothing to the touch, where the gown gaped at the back.

"I thought I saw a knife, I felt the knife..." stammered Steve.

"A knife? Gosh son, it must have been this syringe here." replied the Doctor with a good natured smile.

"Yeah I guess so," replied Steve, but still a little unsure. Something had woken him to the doctor, he didn't know what, but it was something.... wrong.

"Now son, I just need you to get back in bed so I can finish checking you over."reassured Henry

He realized the boy was confused, and he might be able to swing this to his advantage. He slowly palmed the blade he had hidden when the boy let go of him.

"Sure thing Doc" replied the boy, moving back toward the bed. Suddenly Steve stopped, he could hear something, Something he'd never heard before. It sounded like metal sliding against skin and cloth, and he realized he could hear WHERE it was coming from it was coming from the doctor's hands. And now he could SMELL metal, a sharp smell that he could almost roll himself in. His senses were being assaulted by a barrage of smells, and he caught one more than any of the others, fear. He knew the smell, he had smelled it on himself when he thought he was going to die, when he was attacked, and now the smell was coming off the doctor in waves, with the smell of metal. Something was very wrong.

"Hey doc, how's about you bring your hands round for me, just so I can relax yeah?" asked Steve.

The doctor let out a deep sigh, and seemed to visibly relax.

Well, I don't see why not." he said cheerfully.

The doctor brought his hands around, only one was moving faster than the other, and it WAS bringing a knife. Time seemed to slow for Steve, an almost crystalline moment where he could see every movement made and how to react to it. He saw the blade coming toward him, and moved to the side and watched it slam in slow motion into the wall behind him.

He looked back to the doctor and saw a fiery gaze of hatred deep in his eyes. And the doctor was reaching down to his leg, where he saw the faint outline of a revolver. Panic hit him like a freight train, and he looked around for an escape. The only way seemed the window, but he didn't know how high up he was.

He had no choice, as the saw the doctor clear the revolver from it's holster and bring it to bear on him. With cry of anger and fear, he ran at the window and threw himself at it head first. The window shattered into a thousand tiny sparks, dancing in the moonlight as they fell to the streets below. Steve opened his eyes, and as he fell, he saw that he was at least 50 feet from the ground, and was falling fast. He was about to cry in fear, when something happened, his body seemed to go into autopilot, and it twisted round as he fell, so that his feet were falling first.

He closed his eyes as the dark ground came rushing up from below,waiting for the pain and death to come, but it didn't. He landed hard with a thump, but landed on his feet. He opened his eyes and looked down, and then at his body. What was happening to him, what was he becoming?

He didn't have time to think about it, a bullet bounced at his feet and he looked up to see the "doctor" pointing the pistol at him for another shot. Before the shot was fired, he ran to the nearest alley and didn't stop running until dawn, when he collapsed under a bridge and slept.

****************************************************

Henry watched as the boy fled into the alley, and cursed loudly. He had only ever failed before once, and he hated the feeling it gave him. He stormed over to the wall where the knife was embedded and pulled the blade from the wall and placed it back in his inner pocket. He walked over to the bed, furious with anger and checked the chart there. There it was, clear as day under the admission date section, July 5th, two days ago. It wasn't until he glanced down the form and read the additional notes. In small blue writing it said:

"Patient transferred from St Luke's, admitted to St Luke's July 3rd."

He snarled in anger, an angry beast-like roar, that shocked even him, and he waled out of the room, closing the door behind him, making sure no-one had heard the commotion and come to investigate.

As he made his way out of the hospital, the adrenaline rush from the scuffle meant he didn't feel the thin trickle of blood on his neck from where the boy had pierced his skin....

[Chidori]

Meh, the silly boy should have gutted that swit on site, stupid kid.Cant wait for more Setg.Oh, and i posted that info about WOD, hope everyone in here reads it.

[Setg]

He woke to the sound of sirens, a wash of blue & red light illuminating the stream under the bridge like a funfair reflection in a puddle. The noise was deafening. Then the convoy of patrol cars passed & silence returned to his hiding place. Steve had time to remember a fairy story his mother had told him about the Billy Goats Gruff & wondered if he was the troll. The thought brought a sly giggle to his mouth.

The first slivers of daylight had begun eating away the darkness & as dawn approached, Steve became aware of something he hadn’t been aware of the night before. He was hungry. Not the kind of hunger that makes your stomach grumble or sucks you into a burger bar when you’re supposed to be on a diet. This was different.

Every part of his body, every cell, every organ, every limb seemed to vibrate with a need to fill this hunger. But hunger for what?

As Steve gingerly got to his feet he was taken off guard again. Standing there in stasis of fear & confusion he realised that all his wounds were healed. The bones crushed in his hand previously had mended back as if never separated, the holes in his skin left by the drip at the hospital was gone. Then the flashback came, Steve had a clear vision of the doctor who had tried to kill him. He hadn’t even been in a proper fight since high school now all of a sudden people were trying to throw knives at him & trying to blow his head off. “What the Hell is going on?” Steve screamed to himself in a long anguished scream, startling a couple of the hobo’s huddled together a short way from him towards the far end of the bridge. Steve glanced over at the movement, and saw them, and they looked back with a hesitant look in their eyes which conveyed an emotion that sped his pulse and quickened his breath: fear.

A strange realization crept into him; they were old and weak and would be no trouble at all, and to Steve, the old homeless people that usually reeked of stale bourbon and cheap vodka today had a different scent, they smelled like prey, like food. He shook his head to try and rid his head of both the thought and the smell, but neither would go, the scent wrapping itself intricately around his nostrils as a cat would its owner’s legs.

With a scream on confusion, he stumbled into the light away from the bridge, hissing in pain and shock as the first rays of sunlight bounced across the pale blue horizon. He steadied himself, and made his way towards the road. As he did, it hit him, like a dump truck slamming into a crate of eggs, a sickening nausea & intense pain that roared into his stomach, feeling like white hot razor blades were being dragged through his intestines. He fell to his knees, and collapsed to the floor shivering.

Slowly the pain began to recede, and his mind began to clear as the pain started to subside. Suddenly, with a moment of clarity and enlightenment no holy man could ever achieve, Steve was very conscious of what his new found hunger was for. Blood, meat & more importantly …. death