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LYKOS Second Skin Chapter 12 (Revelation) The sounds were alien, hostile, even painful to those with enhanced hearing. The sound of metal scraping against cement and metal tugging against metal felt like claws scraping down a chalkboard. Everything echoed off of cement, funneled down a twisting labyrinth of tunnels. Marco winced and groaned as he opened his eyes, his ears still ringing from the explosion of the school bus. He moved his jaw, trying to get the ringing to stop, but he soon became concerned by the mystery of where he was... or why he was in a cage.

Clawed hands snapped out, latching onto the metal mesh around him. He pushed against it, trying to get it to budge, but it wouldn't. The cage was only large enough to lie down in the fetal position or sit up with crossed legs. He was on a cement floor in a large room and other cages were pushed up against his own. A sickly green light came from lights attached to cement support columns, and the air smelled wet and earthy like a bog or a swamp.

More scraping, more clattering, more clanging. The sounds amplified as more cages were pushed down the ramps from the large trucks, sliding into rows in the loading bays. Hunters in camouflage uniforms moved up and down the rows, supervising the transfers. A few of the cages had been pushed to the side, black tags tied to the metal mesh. Marco smelled other smells, the smell of death in the air. He bore his fangs and rattled his cage.

"Wes, The big one's awake again." A hunter said, pointing.

"That makes, what, twice or three times?" A voice chuckled as a man in his late thirties stepped out, his windswept brownish-black hair pulled back by a bandanna. Special order night vision glasses rested on his face, set just above a dry stripe of red pigment that ran over the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. Unlike the others, he wore a jacket and pants made out of kevlar and cordura, almost as if he'd be as comfortable on a motorcycle as hunting werewolves. Marco looked up, studying the man and the pale scar on his left eyebrow and cheek.

"This is illegal..." Marco said through fangs. The hunter chuckled again softly.

"Illegal? Illegal... In all my years, I don't know if they ever hit me with that one before." Wes grinned, crouching down to come eye to eye with Marco, "I bet the red coats said the same thing to our founding fathers."

"You're not starting a nation, you're hurting a people." Marco replied. Wes clicked with his tongue, shaking his head.

"But you aren't people, at least not enough of the time. You're monsters, you're threats, you're killers, you're unknown. And today, you are a paycheck. That is the only reason you are still alive my philosophical friend. But... alive does not mean conscious. Deke, please do the honors." Wes said, standing up and stepping out of the way. His partner raised the white and black cast weapon and the tip flashed as a flurry of micro-darts shot out and hit Marco. He snarled again, claws scraping along the metal mesh as his head grew weary and the world went dark around him again.

**** A desperate gasp for air woke Fletcher from his sleep as he sat up straight, his heart jumping from a relaxed state to pounding in his chest. His eyes darted around, trying to get his bearings but the unfamiliar surroundings did little to help. He was in a wide room with a milky skylight offering the only illumination. There were other beds with some of the werewolves from the canyon. He saw Artyom next to him, then Kieran but not Liam... Tobin, two others.

Fletcher pushed himself off his bed, but when he went to a step he dropped to the floor, only keeping his upper body upright by grabbing onto the bed. A blur of movement, arms slipping under his. Fletcher was hoisted back up and set onto the mattress by a man in a doctor's jacket with a grey streak in his otherwise brown hair. Fletcher murmured at that, feeling undermined by his own body.

"I wouldn't advise getting up just yet, it's a miracle you're even conscious with how much of that stuff is in your blood." The man said, pulling out a pen light to test Fletcher's vision.

"You're that... werewolf doctor, aren't you?" Fletcher asked. The man chuckled.

"I prefer Doctor Woods, or Nathan if you'd rather." He said. Fletcher looked distracted, his memories starting to come back to him.

"Where's Auel... I need to kill that backstabbing son of a bitch." He growled, trying to push up from the bed. Doctor Woods grunted, grabbing onto his leg to hold him there.

"Sir, I really must insist, you aren't well enough to murder either..." Nathan grunted. Fletcher tried to push him off, but he looked back at Artyom, still passed out. His arm had been bandaged... so had Kieran's neck, and Tobin's leg. Fletcher stopped fighting so hard. He looked back at the doctor.

"What happened... after?" Fletcher asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. Doctor Woods took a soft breath.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Nathan questioned. Fletcher growled again.

"Being stabbed in the back by a former hunter... Knocked out before I could save my family." Fletcher glowered for a moment before softening, "In the middle of an invisibility barrier around our car."

"Ah, yes." Nathan nodded, letting go of Fletcher's leg, moving to lean against the side of the bed, "They had to wait out the hunters, check for any traps, search for any wolves that were missed, and then head back towards town. The Keeper that hid you called Ren."

"I think I would have liked waking up at the museum more." Fletcher said, realizing he had a lot more questions to ask Ren than he had first anticipated.

"Well, maybe so, but we have contingencies in place. We couldn't risk hunters tracking any of you back to the school or the museum. This is an annex building to the Clearwater Clinic. It hasn't been used in years, and it's far enough outside town to keep a low profile. In an emergency it offers a place for us to regroup." Doctor Woods said.

"Regroup... Regroup and do what? The hunters... They..." Fletcher shook, his eyes starting to glisten, "They killed them all!" Fletcher sobbed. Nathan shook his head, rubbing Fletcher's shoulder.

"We don't know that... Hunters haven't acted like this before. They don't attack en masse, they don't attack with tranquilizers, and they sure as hell don't relocate the wolves just to kill them... Whatever this is, your friends might still be alive. We have to hold out hope while we figure out our next move." Nathan said.

"What IS our next move? You just said we don't know anything." Fletcher said. Nathan couldn't help but smile a little.

"Well, you and I might not, but that backstabbing son of a bitch does, and he's talking to Ren right now." Nathan said.

**** The rich, dark red wood that covered the walls of the museum and made up Ren's desk contrasted starkly with the cold, hard black and white gear spread out across her tabletop. She had studied many relics, artifacts, and antiquities over her life. She had been raised to be a Keeper - not only of the secret, of the pack, but of their history and culture, of everything they were and everything they hoped to be. She reached down and traced her hand across a pile of pyramid shaped pieces of metal with scorched edges.

"These I know. They have used them for the last few years." Ren said, her hand drifting over to the black and white cast gun, "This is new. Painfully new..."

"When I ran into an old hunter associate of mine on my run to Denver, he said that the hunters were taking up werewolf bounties. He said they paid more for live ones, and that they had new toys that were better than anything they had before." Auel replied.

"Yes, you told me when you returned. But in this matter I am as helpless now as I was then. These are tools born out of science, totally alien to the supernatural world I've studied. We must find someone who can speak the language of these tools, and use them to track the hunters back to their own den." Ren said softly.

"I think I can manage that, I still have a few contacts of my own. Will you be alright, though?" Auel asked. Ren looked up at that, first with a mildly insulted expression, but that softened. It was a valid question... perhaps too valid.

"I will shepherd my wolves, I will tend their wounds, I will keep them on the path, and when it is time I will look for those that are lost and bring them back." Ren smiled. Auel's eyebrow slowly rose at that.

"I feel like... I need to go over that story about the first Keeper again sometime, because the whole shepherd and wolf thing still feels weird to me." Auel said. Ren shook her head, moving to gather up various ingredients.

"That was supposed to be a touching moment... Go, find your technical genius." Ren said with a soft smile. Auel nodded, grabbing up the gear before he hesitated.

"Could you, uh, try to... calm Fletcher down a little? He's... He's going to be super pissed at me for knocking him out, but I had to keep him from exposing the others. We had to save who we could." Auel admitted sheepishly.

"His heart has been wounded so many times, I can make no promises but I will do what I can. In time he may forgive you." Ren said, picking up a vial, examining it before adding it to her bag. Auel headed for the door.

"There's one more thing I didn't get around to mentioning yet." Auel said, pulling his duffel bag up to his shoulder, "Fletcher turned into some kind of saber-toothed were-cat." Auel added. Ren pivoted on her heel, looking at Auel with pure surprise and a hint of intrigue. Seeing that she had taken it well, Auel gave a nod of his head and headed out the door.

**** The sheer chaos of the machinations taking place in the facility produced a skull-gnawing sound, punctuated by the quick clicks of Wes's boots as he moved down the central corridor to his office. He pushed through the door, stepped up the slight ledge, and pulled the door shut behind him. All of the scraping, sparking, growling and gurgling shrank down to nothing more than a muffled murmur. Wes stood just in front of the door, pulling off one glove and then the other, setting them on a shelf before he reached up and pulled off his glasses, setting them aside.

Rounding the corner, Wes moved over to a chair and sat down in it, leaning back a little. He ran his hand over his hair to smooth it out a little before he sighed. His office had no windows to the outside world, only one small tinted window into the facility, a long wall of security cameras, a wall of knick knacks, and one wall with a large screen showing a view of an elevated wooden nature trail crossing over a marsh teeming with wildflowers, grasses and small scrub brush beneath a light canopy of trees.

Wes could feel his heart rate slow, looking at the view. If he watched long enough he knew he'd see some of the birds that lived in the preserve... but this wasn't the time. He opened a panel on his desk and entered his security code and an extension. The view of the marsh disappeared, replaced by the cool blue and dark grey hexagons that made up the Futurza interface. The screen detailed the steps involved in accessing an encrypted optical data line, connecting through private servers before finally reaching their destination... only to stall while waiting for a response. This, at least, Wes was used to. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs a bit before, to his surprise, the screen cleared.

"I was expecting your update an hour ago." Naomi's voice chided, the wall filling with the view of the red headed woman in her pristine blue suit, sitting in her office with a grand view of Houston stretching out behind her.

"There were a few unexpected delays... I had to visit my men in the infirmary." Wes said.

"Casualties of the hunt?" Naomi asked.

"There are always some casualties... but there were also some unexpected issues stemming from manufacturing defects in your precious Lycanthrope Suppression Pinions." Wes said. Naomi's eyebrow twitched as her lips tightened.

"What do you mean, manufacturing defects?" She questioned starkly. Wes grinned, turning his chair a little one way and then a little the other.

"More than a third of the weapons jammed, cracking the outer casing. Even with the blockage cleared, if the weapon was fired again, it would explode. We had two of them explode when the sonic device was used." Wes said.

"That isn't possible, the LSPs were put through the same rigorous testing any Futurza product is. Your men must not have followed established handling procedures, or used unsanctioned ammunition..." Naomi said. Wes shook his head.

"We followed your guides, they practiced for these missions for months. We'll send you the defective pieces, but I want twenty percent more to cover the unexpected injuries. Call it hazard pay." Wes said. It was Naomi's turn to smile, though it looked more predatory than some of the werewolves Wes had crammed into cages.

"Despite the exorbitant fees I have paid your hunters, not to mention funding the expeditions, the facility, and the day to day operations there... I will accept your terms. My only condition is that you have delivered on your promise?" Naomi asked. Wes nodded, sobering up a little.

"Seventy eight werewolves from four different states. Thirty five females, forty three males." Wes replied. Naomi looked away from the camera, entering the data into her personal computer. Wes looked up at her imposing bust dominating his office, filling one entire wall. He pursed his lips, "Do you mind if I ask what you needed with werewolf bounties when you've got them breaking down your own door to get in?" he asked finally.

"Why is it that hunters wear that face paint, or use hoods, or big hats? Sometimes it is necessary to have some plausible deniability when one's acts are less than legal." Naomi said, "I will contact you in one hour to confirm payment, and to discuss your further services in regards to animal handling." Naomi said, pressing a button on her desk. The screen snapped back to blue and grey and then finally the view of the marsh. Wes tapped his control panel, turning on the speakers, listening to the sounds of the nature preserve as he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

**** Cool, clean water babbled along the creek, meandering between willowy banks and spilling over rounded stones. Fletcher carefully sat down on the edge of the creek and lowered his bare feet into the water. It was a bit frosty, but the shock to his system at least made him feel something. He blinked a few times and reached up to rub his eyes, only to realize his glasses were missing... He could only guess where they were now. He let out an exasperated sigh before falling back onto the grass, looking up at the underside of a large oak tree, and then the upside down visage of Ren as she approached.

"Getting a new perspective?" She asked, moving to sit down next to Fletcher.

"I don't even know where to start." he said weakly, "How... do you deal with all the insane stuff you've seen?"

"Tea... and time." Ren said, "Then more tea." she smiled. Fletcher couldn't help but laugh a little before he pushed himself back upright.

"Did they tell you?" Fletcher asked.

"They tell me a great many things. To which are you referring?" Ren questioned. Fletcher held out his hand and focused, recalling the soul rending chaos during the canyon attack. His fingernails darkened and pushed out into claws as his ears sharpened as well, hair emerging from his cheeks. He opened his mouth a little, running his tongue over his extended upper canine teeth.

"I turned into something... else." Fletcher said. Ren nodded.

"I should have figured it out sooner, but I wasn't sure where to start myself." Ren replied.

"Do you have any ideas now?"

"There are a few myths from around the world about supernatural feline species. If I had to guess, I believe you are a Komainu, a guardian Lion. The English call them Foo Dogs. You might have seen stone statues of them on campus, there are a pair of them outside the theater building." Ren said.

"I've seen them around temples too, Buddhist ones, right?" Fletcher asked, his voice sounding calmer, his eyes wider, "But... how?" he asked. Ren stretched one arm out to support herself as she leaned back, letting the wind blow across her face. It felt refreshing, a welcome respite in such a hard time. She looked back at Fletcher.

"It is only a guess, I have no evidence." Ren said. Fletcher shrugged and Ren nodded before continuing, "The place Demeas led you was a supernatural place beyond the scope of this world. It was a place beyond the veil, where the forgotten legends and gods of this world passed through. You died, and made a deal with an ancient spirit to bring you back to life. When that spirit was driven out, you might have been... incomplete. A guardian lion might have filled that void to make you whole and to make sure no evil spirit could take that place again."

Fletcher was silent for a long moment, looking at the creek and the trees, the overgrown grasses, and how it all moved downstream toward the main clinic. At the edge of the property it all fell into line; the grass was mowed, the banks of the creek covered with neat stone bricks, the trees were trimmed and flowers were planted in raised flower beds. Wild nature led to domesticated perfection.

"I hope that's true. It sounds so nice. I want it to be my story." Fletcher said softly.

"Until we know otherwise, it can be your story." Ren said.

"I have so many questions about so many things, but... I can't be thinking about me right now. My world just came shaking apart." Fletcher whispered.

"We have everyone we can reach working on this issue, trying to track down what happened to the pack. We have also heard from Keepers in Idaho and Oregon. The hunters have taken packs from there as well. No fatalities, only missing." Ren said. Fletcher didn't know whether to be horrified or relieved.

"And Auel?" Fletcher asked, his voice - and his claws - taking a sharper edge. Ren sat back upright, her posture shifting to a more imposing one.

"He is doing what he can to help, investigating the tools of the enemy to learn where they came from." Ren replied.

"When this is done, I don't want him to be a keeper anymore." Fletcher said. Ren's lips tightened at that.

"You can certainly choose the keepers of your own personal pack... But you have no authority over the Keepers. We are the shepherds, not the herded." Ren said, her eyes looking into Fletcher's.

"He knocked me out. If he hadn't, I might have been able to save Marco, or Udo, or Liam, or anyone else." Fletcher said. Ren's composure strained.

"Might have, maybe, could have... Your untested powers might have thrown them off balance. You might have saved one or two of them. There is no way to know. From what I've heard, you were sharply outnumbered and fiercely outgunned. If you had been taken out, the others were not in any position to defend themselves. Your acts would have risked the only wolves that made it out of that canyon. I can't fault Auel for keeping the losses from getting any worse than they already were."

"He didn't give me the choice." Fletcher said softly.

"Life rarely does. We can prepare for possibilities, we can respond to actualities."

"Are you responding to this actuality?" Fletch asked.

"Not quite, not yet." Ren replied with a sad smile, "I failed. I should have assigned more keepers, more experienced ones, ones with greater magic. If not around the canyon, then a second line of defense. We always assumed hunters might come one day, but not from all around, not in such numbers." She looked tired, worn out, and far wearier than normal.

"If I passed your werewolf tests, do you think I'd be able to get past hunters?" Fletcher asked. Ren tilted her head to one side and then the other.

"You are not allergic to silver or wolfsbane, you do not change on the full moon... but you fell victim to their sedatives, you heard their sonic weapons. It depends on how they would test you." Ren answered.

"When Yom wakes up, I won't be able to stop him from trying to find Marco." Fletcher said. Ren nodded at that.

"I could not think of two more dedicated to their Alpha than you two. I will not stop you... but I do not have much to help you with either." Ren said. Fletcher laughed a little at that, shaking his head.

"That's not really true. You've helped me, us, more than anyone I've ever known. You have the answers we need when we don't know anything else. Thank you." Fletcher said, moving to hug Ren. Ren was a little surprised but she wrapped her arms lightly around his shoulder, holding him.

"Just promise me you'll bring them back if you can." she whispered. Fletcher nodded, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

"I promise." he answered, feeling resolute in his heart. **** The elevator doors opened onto the tenth floor of the Futurza building, allowing Naomi to step out. Naomi's visit was unannounced, unplanned, and undocumented. She had also done something she rarely did - She had put on flats. Her wardrobe was part of a calculated visage. It was predatory, intimidating, stark and easily audible. Her grandfather had warned her that the world was slow to change, unlikely to accept a woman with power or a mind, let alone both. It had served her well, but today? Today she needed stealth.

She walked down the hallway running between the laboratories, watching everyone work so diligently. The full moon had given them fresh access to the werewolves in their feral forms. Eighty percent of the subjects had been sedated, just like in the previous month, but the others had been taken down to the arboretum and let loose. The anthropological results of that one night would be dissected for decades.

Naomi thought back to her conversation with Wes and how unnerving it had been. Futurza was not known for manufacturing defects, but the statistics didn't lie. Significant numbers of the LSP's had failed in their debut. She had to find the cause, to see if it was an oversight or an accident. She moved down the hallway, approaching the fabrication lab.

Standing outside of the lap was a bit of a wonder. The end of the hallway ended in a display window, showing off some of the fabricator units. In some of the machines the polymer resin was injected into molds, cast and then popped out into vats of liquid where they would be cleaned, polished and sent to assembly. Other machines were punching metal out of sheets, collecting the necessary elements.

It almost seemed magical, watching nothing turn into something, then many things. There were robotic arms, belts, tubes and sockets. Piece by piece, it all came together into the complex machinery that was financing the scientific efforts. As magical as it was, Naomi knew that the more complex a system was, the more it could lead to chaos. The problem, thankfully, came down to two possible factors: the cast casing around the barrel of the weapon, or the firing mechanism.

Naomi nodded to herself. She'd order a review of the pieces from a different team that could approach the problem with fresh eyes, and they could swap out the molds and stamps for a fresh set to see if that fixed anything. Despite the problem nagging at her up until that moment, having a decisive plan always put her more at ease. Naomi turned to depart, though an unexpected light caught her eye. Someone was in Doctor Poulson's office, and given the fact that he had reported to the infirmary earlier in the day, that was a curiosity. She moved over and knocked on the door.

"Anyone home?" She asked, peering through the crack in the door, easing it open wider. Standing inside was one of the other researchers, wearing gloves and safety goggles as he cleaned up the workspace. The man was tall, a little over six feet with broad shoulders that barely seemed able to fit into his lab coat. His long, black hair was tied back and his rich skin tone contrasted with the white jacket.

"Director Bennet, come in." he said, smiling over his shoulder, "Though be careful, there's still some residue from earlier."

"Thank you... It's Haku Iona, correct? Doctor Poulson's research partner?" She asked.

"That's right, I'm touched you remembered with so many employees." he said, picking up pieces of fragmented glass with tweezers, dropping them into the red and white sharps container.

"It's hard not to remember, you've made a bit of a name for yourself. You catalogued more of our research subjects than anyone else, and with a higher accuracy rating than anyone. Then as soon as we transfer you here, you and Poulson make an incredible breakthrough with the wolves..."

"Doctor Poulson deserves a great deal of the credit. I wish he was here to hear your praise." Haku said, finishing removing the glass before he wiped down the counter again, sterilizing it.

"What did happen, this morning?" Naomi asked, her tone a bit harsher than the inquisitive one she had intended. Haku gave a weary chuckle.

"If I were completely sure, I think it might have made a good report. I'm still not exactly clear. We were trying to isolate the factor that makes up a werewolf's scent. We were both certain that it had to be a pheromone that was chemically identical to a human pheromone, but contained some other quality that gave the werewolves an ability to smell each other, to identify and track each other." Haku said.

"And then?" Naomi asked.

"Doctor Poulson set the centrifuge, he even double checked the numbers, but when the equipment started up there must have been a power surge or a computer glitch... The centrifuge exploded. The sample containers were mostly contained, but the samples were destroyed." Haku said. Naomi's brow furrowed a little more.

"First, there was a fire that destroyed his computer. Then there was that unfortunate incident with his arm... and now another piece of equipment has broken, taking the samples and Doctor Poulson's well being with it." Naomi said, "I... am going to move you both to the Annex building, and we're going to safeguard your work. New equipment, a more secure environment. This work is important."

"It really is... There are so many fascinating ideas. Pheromones are for more than just sex. They allow queen bees to control their drones, for animals to mark territory and trails, to signal alarm. If we're able to crack this, the results could be truly amazing." Haku grinned. Naomi nodded at that.

"I believe you, and I support you. In the mean time, though, I want you to take the rest of the day off. I'm going to have some of my specialists transfer your work to the new lab. I'm sure you could enjoy the time with your family. Do you have children?" Naomi asked. Haku smiled.

"I have a son, but he goes to college in Colorado. It's just my wife Cira and I here in Texas." Haku replied. Naomi nodded.

"Well, have dinner with her, celebrate your good fortune. When you come back to work, you're going to have all new gear." Naomi said. Haku grinned warmly at that.

"Thank you, Misses Bennet." Haku said, returning the sharps container to its resting place in a slot in the wall. He got rid of his gloves and left his goggles behind before leaving the office. Naomi stood there, looking at the lab, feeling just a bit... off. Haku wasn't afraid of her. He had to be one of a very small handful. He also had the misfortune of being paired with their most accident prone scientist.

If Poulson's problems had started only after the team up, she might have suspected sabotage, but something else was going on. It was either that... or her paranoia was getting the best of her. There was some comfort at least coming from the fact that her paranoia was rooted in actual historical events. She could always blame her grandfather for that. She stepped out of the office and pulled the door shut, running her finger over the control pad to lock the door before pulling out her phone.

"Chad, I want a security sweep of Doctor Poulson's office before setting the scientists up with a new lab in Annex B8. Check for anything that would worry me..." Naomi said before hanging up. She moved with silent steps back to the elevator, disappearing behind the double doors. The motion sensors in Doctor Poulson's office began their countdown, ticking away the moments until the main lights snapped off, leaving just the computer monitors to cast their glow.

The monitors had been displaying the ongoing chemical analysis of the various samples that Haku and Poulson had been testing, but the screens in the room started to flicker. The images distorted, the colors inverting and flashing before a curved zig-zag distortion bisected the screen, flashing on all of them at once before the images returned back to normal. With no evidence of the strange glitch, the computers continued to analyze the data they'd been fed, minus the one chemical compound that had been running through the program when the bug had struck.

**** The long stretch of highway was parched, dry and beaten by the New Mexico sun. A few bits of scrub clung on to the red dirt. Auel looked out across the landscape, seeing the rock formations rising up from the ground like the skeletons of ancient, titanic beasts... but everything was still and quiet. It had been over twenty minutes since Auel had seen another vehicle drive by, and it seemed they had little interest in the run down convenience store in the middle of nowhere. It didn't even have any gas pumps - though it did have a vending machine.

Auel moved over and popped two quarters in, relieved that was all it took. His fingers traced the smooth, curved plastic buttons before a smile caught the corner of his lips. Black cherry soda... So few places had it. Auel pressed the button and heard the can rattling its way down the chute before rolling unceremoniously into the slot. He snatched it up and popped the top, releasing the pent up gasses.

The setting sun washed over his bare shoulders, kissing his well tanned skin and brought out the blond highlights in his already dishwater brown hair. Auel stood out a bit in most places he went, but here? Here his heritage was starting to show through. Auel sipped at the can, letting the sweet nectar play across his mouth, hinting at cherries and orchards and brilliant sunny days. It was a fleeting flavor, and a fleeting beverage. In moments he had emptied the can and even licked the red dew drop from the rim.

Auel tossed the can into the blue bucket set to the side for such things before he moved back into the convenience store. The bell jangled as he came in, and an electronic chime sounded as he passed the back counter, pushing through the curtain and stepping down the stairs. As he descended, the air changed, smelling of earth and rock and melting metal. The basement under the shop was anything but what a convenience store might sell. The walls boasted equipment any hunter would be proud of; silver ammunition, mechanical crossbows, riffles, shotguns, even some bouncing tasers.

Auel looked at the man working at the center of the room. He had on a backwards black baseball cap, a bit of black bangs sticking out through the front gap. His ears were stretched with black spacers, and his tawny skin tone an echo of the natural splendor stretching in countless miles in every direction. He had a mustache and a short black goatee hanging down from his chin. Light brown eyes peered through magnifying lenses as he pulled the weapon Auel had brought apart, setting pieces down.

"Cousin, you've been involved in some strange things if you ask me." he said, looking at the interior equipment, even whistling a bit in surprise.

"It wasn't exactly my choice, at first." Auel replied.

"Yeah... You know your parents weren't exactly thrilled you went off the grid. They'd probably skin me alive if they knew I was helping you without telling them." he said, pulling back a piece of machine cut metal to get at deeper mechanisms.

"That's why you're my favorite cousin, Nicolás. Now, does that tech teach you anything?" Auel asked, moving over. Nicolás pulled out a pair of tweezers and reached in, dislodging a processor chip before he pulled it out. He examined it carefully, looking at one side, then the other before he set it onto his flatbed scanner. The scanner slid along, getting a pretty poor image with the lid open, but it was enough to let the computer quickly count the pins and the layout.

"It's not stamped, it's not even coded. Whoever it was didn't want anyone to figure anything out by doing what we're doing." Nicolás said, running a program to grab the numbers and the layout so he could search for them.

"But you're smart enough to get around that, right?" Auel asked, starting to worry that he'd come all that way for a dead end. Nicolás snorted that his cousin would even doubt him. He ran the numbers through various searches on the computer before he found an obscure patent. Nicolás pulled it up onto the screen, his eyes scanning the information.

"It's not exactly the same, but the processor's using an architecture that was patented for a future line of trinium processors to be used in industrial equipment." Nicolás said.

"Who filed the patent?" Auel asked. Nicolás jumped back up to the top of the page before he leaned back slowly.

"Futurza Incorporated." Nicolás replied. Auel stood there in shock. On the surface it didn't make any sense... Futurza had made a name for themselves for conducting the first scientific research into werewolves, welcoming them with open arms, building PR about how accessible and friendly they were... But the more Auel thought about it, the more it made sense.

"They had to be planning this... Way longer than the blood moon eclipse. They've known about werewolves, they've been waiting for it to become public... and they're arming the hunters." Auel said, moving to gather up his things.

"Wait, why would they arm the hunters AND be so nice to the wolves?" Nicolás asked.

"They're playing both sides for their own agenda. The hunter gear didn't work that well. It jammed, it misfired, it broke. If it had worked like it was supposed to, it would have been even more lethal." Auel said, starting to return things to his backpack, "Wes said that he was in with someone big, someone that made all their problems go away in exchange for werewolf bounties. Futurza isn't just recruiting wolves, they're kidnapping them too."

"This is serious, I mean, this goes deep." Nicolás said, looking worried, "Where are you going now?"

"First, I'm going to make a long distance call, and then I'm going to Texas." Auel said, zipping up his pack and slinging it over his shoulders as he headed for the stairs.

"And if your parents find out you were here, what do I tell them?" Nicolás shouted after his cousin.

"There are creatures far more dangerous and intimidating than werewolves in this world, and I'm hunting them." Auel replied before he headed back out into the New Mexico heat.

**** Step by weary step, Andrew Poulson moved up to the fourth floor of his apartment building, ready for a well deserved rest. His short blond hair was soaked with sweat. His right hand was wrapped in white gauze and he was trying with all his might to avoid scratching the itch, knowing he might undo all the repair work the doctors had done after fishing out the shards of glass.

Andrew felt a comfort returning home after such an ordeal. His apartment was far from cheap, though there were no cheap apartments in Houston. The stairwell had cream colored carpets and walls and a large three story window looking out over the courtyard and the pool beyond. The chandelier light was off, allowing the natural sun to light the stairwell. Poulson reached the fifth floor and opened the door, emerging into the hall where it was only a short walk to his apartment.

The lock clicked as the key slipped in, tickling the tumblers until the key turned. Andrew stepped in and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it, panting a bit. He felt so warm, almost as warm as when his computer had burst into flame at work and he'd been forced to use an extinguisher on it. He closed his eyes and murmured, shaking it off before he opened them again.

Stretching out around the scientist, his apartment was anything but modest. Shaped like a trapezoid, everything was a mixture of creams, grays, and wood grain. Andrew reached over, turning the thermostat down as far as he could go. He walked toward his bedroom, the light coming through the gauzy curtains over the windows almost seeming like too much. Everything seemed like too much... He just needed to rest, to sleep, to... itch.

Poulson tried not to think of his injuries. He knew there were stitches, that there were bandages, but the itching was too strong, too distracting. In a fit of discomfort, he let out a growl and tore at the medical tape with his teeth before he unwrapped the gauze, looping it around time after time, working it out until he unwrapped his hand. At first, Andrew wasn't even sure he'd reached his goal. He saw no discoloration from iodine or blood. He saw no bandages, no stitches, until the gauze came off more and the loose string fell away.

"What the hell?" Andrew murmured before he unwrapped the gauze all the way and pulled it off. He looked down at a perfectly healthy, perfectly normal hand. It was almost too normal, too perfect. There were no urns from the computer explosion, no paper cuts from the endless forms at work, and certainly no sign that he'd been peppered with shrapnel from exploding glass sample containers.

"No..." He whispered, "No, no, no..." He repeated, rushing over to the sink. He turned on the water and started washing his hand, but he felt the water flow over his skin perfectly, and it wasn't as if he even knew what he was trying to wash off. He kept muttering under his breath, his heart beating faster, his panic levels climbing until he felt a charge jolting through his system. The water flowing down over his hand began to collect at the lowest point, running down his knuckles and down his fingers, spiraling around his fingertips until they hit the parts of his fingernails that were pushing out longer.

Poulson watched in horror as his fingernails stretched out, honing to points, getting thicker and taking on a curve. He flexed his hand, turned it over, and watched as the nails turned from ivory to a dark, earthy brown. They were the claws of a werewolf. Andrew's heart was thumping in his chest, but he threw his head back and let out a cry of anguish as he felt his cheeks tingle and burn, blond hairs pushing out into thick sideburns as his ears popped and stretched into points.

More popping and snapping came as claws poked through Poulson's sensible shoes, and wisps of soft blond hair began poking up from the collar of his shirt. Andrew murmured, panting harder, his hot breath passing over sharper, bigger teeth that filled his mouth. Even his tongue felt thicker, longer, stronger. There was no denying it. He had been contaminated by his samples. His Blood Borne Pathogen protections had been breached, and he was suffering the ultimate sacrifice. The only question was... what would he do now?