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Noxumbra Files

Case 1: The Wolf

By XP Author

It was night, dark and cool, and he was a tee shirt. It was not the first time he had been a shirt, but it was something he would never get used to. His cloth was loose and light, pastel pink, with a resewn stitch along the right armpit area. He must either be a favorite shirt of hers, or she is down on her luck and would rather stitch an old shirt back up than buy a new one. Or she was just the kind to do that. It wasn't important. What was important was the owner herself.

A short feline, probably in her 20's. He could feel the muscles moving as she ran, her panicked sweat soaking into his fabric. She was out of shape, a little too thin, and panting heavily from the exertion she was not used to as much as the panic. Her fur was short, mottled white, brown and black in random splotches. Much of her long, black hair had fallen out of the bun she kept it in, flying about behind her as she ran. There was some kind of alcohol that had dripped onto his front, near the collar. Tequila. A cheap one, at that. She was not in a bar, but somewhere outside. The air was damp from the recent rains, but it was not raining now.

Suddenly something ripped into his back. Several somethings. Sharp, but not a knife. Claws. Blood splashed through the tears, the owner's flesh torn open by the swipe. She fell, the ground under her was rough and uneven, but solid. Concrete, but poorly maintained. The claws struck again, tearing him open further from behind. More blood. She screamed. He could not hear it, shirts don't have ears, but the way her chest and belly contracted, the vibrations running through him, he could tell. There was more tearing, he was being shredded. Not just from the back, but the front, too. He was torn open with purpose, exposing the owner's chest. She was not particularly well endowed, so there was no bra. There was more blood, though, now on the front. The claws tore at her breasts.

More tearing, though not at him now. She struggled. The owner of the claws ripped her other clothes open. He assumed it was a man. She screamed more, then jerked. She was struck, dazed. Her body went limp momentarily, but not unconscious. She still squirmed. More movement. He knew what was happening. Her body rocked up and down. She was being raped. She tried to fight back, but was easily held down. The man must be quite tall by the angle of that palm pressing against her belly, felt by his tattered remains still clinging to her abs. That hand was huge. The man was some kind of giant.

He felt it. The man finishing. Semen splattered against her, soaking into his fabric. It was a canine... no... a wolf. But different. It was not like any wolf he ever knew. Something far more powerful and... off. He could not place why he felt that way. He did not have long to think about it. The cum was covered by more blood. A lot more blood. He was torn again, ripped clean open this time. It was not just blood. Bits of torn skin, internal organs, and bone peppered what was left of him. His owner was ripped apart, while her blood soaked through him, turning pastel pink to crimson. It lasted minutes, even after she stopped moving. Then, there was stillness. Finally, there was darkness.

* * *

Tag gasped as his mind came back into his own body, the jerboa's eyes snapping open, though for a brief moment, he saw nothing but blinding light. His nose was assaulted by the smell of garbage, metal, smoke, salt water, blood, and rotting meat. Nearby was the sound of talking, hushed but suspicious, some almost hostile. Farther away, the murmur of a crowd, curious and fearful. Further still, boats and dock workers going about their day.

The gentle touch on his shoulder made him jump. "You okay?" The voice beside him was soft, friendly, and concerned. It belonged to Captain Susan Sudders. He turned to see the concerned look on the middle-aged beaver's face, softening the otherwise hard features gained from spending most of her lifetime on the force.

Tag nodded. "Yeah." He took a deep breath, regretting it instantly as the smell of the scene in front of him struck his nose again. "Mostly." He looked back down. He was kneeling beside one hell of a mess. What used to be a young cat was now nothing but torn flesh. The same cat who had been wearing him. It looked like a wild beast had mauled the poor girl, tearing her open from neck to hip and eating as much as it could. One arm was gnawed through to the bone, the other just missing. Her legs were much the same, one barely attached; the other, little more than bones, set near where her head used to be. The head was crushed, her face unrecognizable. It was a gruesome sight. He wished he could say the most gruesome he had ever seen, but that would be a lie. It was up there, though.

He took Susan's offered hand, letting the larger woman haul his thin frame back up to his feet. Not as tall as him, she was much broader. Not that that was hard, he was almost a scarecrow compared to most people. She gave him another smile as he brushed off his pants, then her features went back to the serious ones he recognized the most. "So, what did you find out?" Her tone was all business again. That was the woman he knew.

He motioned down at the remains. "I can see why you called me in now. Definitely LOOKS like some wild animal, but that's not what I saw. It was a man. A wolf of some kind, but..."

Susan quirked an eyebrow. "But... what?"

He shook his head. "I dunno. There was something off about it. For one, the guy was HUGE. Taller than me. Had to be by the angles." That got her attention. He was nearly 6'3", so taller than him was pretty impressive. "And clearly pretty strong to do..." he motioned to the flayed corpse. "...that. Did it with their bare claws. After raping her, I think. You've collected evidence for that, I assume?" She had not filled him in on many details, not wanting to break any more protocol than she already was by even having him here.

She nodded. "Yeah, we did. Found semen in her vagina. Sent it to the lab to analyze, but everyone's just assuming it was some homeless guy fucking a fresh corpse. Wouldn't be the first time..." Her voice trailed off.

He finished the thought. "But your hunch tells you it's the killer." She nodded. "Well, it's probably unusable, but you might find more in the remains of her clothes, mixed in with the blood. Should at least confirm that it happened at the same time as the murder." He shook his head a little. "I still can't explain why it seems off, though. It was..." He struggled for the right way to put it. "...it's hard to put into words. It felt... I dunno. Powerful?"

She gave him a dubious look. "Powerful? What, you saying this guy's got super-sperm? Didn't know you were into that kinda thing, Vic."

He chuckled. "I'm not, but it's hardly the first time I've felt someone's cum splashed against whatever I was in the moment." He held up a hand to stop her joke. "You know what I mean. I have to find a lot of cheating husbands as a private eye. Probably 99% of what I end up finding, actually."

"So Captain. Did your mystical psychic find anything?" Tag sighed. He knew the owner of that mocking tone. Detective Jason Alistar. The ferret walked over with the swagger of someone who was itching for some kind of fight. He prodded a finger right into Tag's chest. "So, mystic. Whatcha got? Ghosts? Or was it a demon?"

He chose not to rise to the barb. "It was a wolf. Tall, well-built, probably a habitual bodybuilder. Possibly someone on steroids, which could explain the obvious ferocity of the attack." He put his hands on his hips. "Any more questions, Al?"

The man scowled at him. "That's Detective Alistar, civilian!" He turned to his captain. "Why did you even bring this fraud in on this? Even if this isn't just some wild animal, which I'm not convinced it isn't, then he's just going to muck up the investigation. You know anyone's lawyer would just use this to get the case thrown out in an instant. You can hardly use what you see in a crystal ball as a credible eyewitness account."

Tag saw Susan gearing up for a talking down, but held up a hand to halt her. "For one, I don't use a crystal ball. For two, what I see I use to help lead to ACTUAL evidence. Things that could be found eventually anyway. Things that can_be used in court. I just try to speed up the process. I know how all this goes. Or did you forget why you're even in homicide,_Detective?"

For a moment, it looked as if the ferret was going to take a swing at him. Then he just scoffed and turned away, waving dismissively. "Just means you can lie with authority. Whatever. If you fuck up the case, that's on the Captain." He waved at his junior partner. "C'mon, Jan. Let's go tell the CSI boys they can start the actual police work now." With that, he sauntered off towards the rest of the uniforms waiting impatiently to do their job.

Instead of following, the young tiger came over to the tall Jerboa, looking apologetic. According to the ID clipped to her jacket, she was Detective Janice Freldon. "I'm sorry about him. He's normally a lot more calm than that..."

Tag just shook his head. "It's fine. He just really hates me specifically."

Susan failed to stifle a laugh, but Janice looked confused. "What did you do to piss him off so much?"

He shrugged. "I quit being a cop."

* * *

Tag let out a heavy sigh as he walked down the hallway to his office door. It was like out of some old black and white movie, a long hallway with a door at the end, his name on the frosted glass window. Victor Takdt, private investigator. Owner of Touch Investigations. At least his hallway wasn't in some old tenement building with trash on the floors. It was on the third floor of a very cheap office park. His neighbors were not noisy, quirky, but salt-of-the-earth type folk, just a bunch of small businesses. The owner of the building, an old bear named Chuck, used his services to investigate almost every one of them, make sure they were all on the up-and-up before allowing them to set up shop.

Chuck was one of the few repeat clients he had. Most of his clients were people trying to find proof of their lovers cheating on them. Even without his abilities, it was almost always pretty easy to prove. Of course, those abilities also tended to bring in some crazies. Crystal worshipers or people claiming their neighbors were witches. They were always just crazy people making up nonsense and living in some fantasy world of their own. Though he could not completely rule out the possibility of such things, considering his... power, for lack of a better term.

His 'power' was called psychometry, the ability to touch an object and get a vision about it or its owner using it in some way. The catch was, he could not control what the vision was. The person had to have a strong connection to it, or the moment had to be something big for them, such as a celebration, a big regret, or something they were worried about coming out. Naturally, he saw a lot of illicit sex because of this. While he had become somewhat numbed to it these days, a few times he still wished he could break the visions earlier. Sometimes the sex was violent. Sometimes it was with minors. Only once had he seen a murder when he expected to just see someone fucking their secretary, and ironically, it was the client doing the killing. Those were just standouts, though. Most of the time, it was just the same thing with different people.

As soon as he pushed the door open, a voice called out. "I'll be there in a moment!" It belonged to Christa Manchen, his assistant.

He called back. "It's just me, Chris." His nose twitched. "Is that fresh coffee?"

He heard the chuckle from the back, where the tiny kitchen was located. "Yeah! Just made a pot. You want some?"

He followed the voice to the back, giving the panda a smile. "I'd love some." She gave him a smile back and started to get a mug for him. Christa was someone he had known since before retiring as a cop. He had saved her life when the same druggy that killed her niece came to kill her. He just happened to be there getting some more info on the case at the time. Easy case to solve when the murderer comes to you, with the same gun in hand. Since then, the two had been close... though not THAT close, a fact that her husband could attest. She had offered to help him however she could to pay him back, and when he decided to start the private eye gig, she jumped at the offer to be his secretary. She made an excellent assistant.

She also made a mean cup of coffee. "Here you go, Tag." She held out the mug to him.

He accepted, sipping at it. It was very strong. "Mm, thank you. I needed this."

"I'll bet. Sounded like quite the grizzly thing to call you in on. I thought you were done with murders." He moved out of the way so she could go back to her desk beside the door.

He shrugged, following to his own desk. "So did I, but it was a favor for Susan." He practically fell into his seat, the cushions on the thing far too worn down for it to be comfortable, but it was still good to actually sit down. "So, anything new?"

Chris nodded, picking up her notebook. "A few things. Got a Mr. Wilson asking to look for a missing pet."

Tag just rolled his eyes. "No. Next?"

She smiled. "Three death threats from some now ex-husbands."

He chuckled. "I said anything NEW."

The panda grinned. "Death threat from an ex-wife?" He smirked. Most of those sorts of threats were from husbands that got caught cheating. While it was not unusual for a wife to be doing the same, they usually did not bother with the death threats. "Oh, Chuck has another one for you, too. Apparently, there's a 'masseu~ur' wanting to set up shop in the building." The odd way she elongated the word 'masseur' was clearly mocking the way Chuck had said it. "Wants you to make sure they're not just trying to set up some prostitute hub. I already told him you'd probably take it, but get back to him either later today or tomorrow about it."

Tag nodded, sipping at his coffee. "Yeah, I'll look into them. Anything else?"

She shook her head. "Nope. It's just been death threats and paperwork. So same old same."

He nodded. "Alright. Well, I'll call Chuck about the 'masseur' and get the details. Hope it's real. I could use a good back rub."

She grinned. "Think they do foot rubs, too?"

He chuckled. "I hope they do. For your husband's sake." She gave him a playful scowl, but chuckled a moment later as well.

* * *

"Yup. Kid's legit. Just trying to set up a place to get a small business off the ground. No foul play or sex offenses at all in his past." Tag flipped a page on his notepad. "Worst I could find was some misdemeanor when he was 15. Apparently printed porn pictures using the high school computers and got caught."

The man on the other end of the phone just burst out laughing. "Ah hell, I probably wouda done that at his age, too." Chuck let out another of his boisterous belly laughs. "Well, in that case, I'll let the kid know he can take the place and set up his massage parlor or whatever. Thanks again, Vic. Always worth the money."

Tag scoffed. "Yeah. It'd be nice to see more of it." He sat up a little, setting his notepad down. "Gimme a call next time you need a background check, Chuck." With that, he hung up the phone. Then he let out a heavy sigh.

"Why the heavy sigh?" He tensed up for a moment, not expecting Christa to be right beside his desk. He looked up in time to see her setting down a fresh mug of coffee for him. "Chuck isn't that bad to work with."

He smiled at her, giving a thankful nod for the coffee. "He's not. Just feeling the lack of work." It had been a little over a week since he had been at the gruesome crime scene with Susan. In that time, he had only gotten two legit cases, one being Chuck. The other was just another cheating husband. A pretty easy one to solve, too, considering he was fucking his secret boyfriend in the parking lot of his office, right in broad daylight. No way someone could claim an invasion of privacy on that one.

Christa shrugged at him. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get another distraught wife calling you soon." As if on cue, the phone on the panda's desk started ringing. She gave her boss a cheeky grin. "See?" She hastily made her way over to the desk and picked up the phone, putting on her best receptionist voice. "Touch Investigations, how can I help you?" Her cheery expression was replaced by one of surprise. "Oh! Hello again, Chief." Tag's ears perked up. "Yeah, he's here. Just a second, I'll transfer you to his phone."

The woman tapped a button on her phone, and the one on his desk lit up in response. He picked the phone up, poking the flashing button. "Susan?"

Sure enough, the gruff voice of the police chief came across the phone. "Victor." He sat up more fully now. She only ever called him that when she really needed something. Or when he was in serious trouble. "We've got another one like last time..."

He winced. "Ah... great..."

The beaver continued. "I can't give you details over the phone, but I need your... special touch again."

Something about her tone got him very worried. "Okay. Just tell me where I need to go."

"Swing by the precinct. I'll take you there myself." She hung up before he could say anything more. He just stared at the phone with a mix of confusion and concern.

Christa gave him a similar look. "Another one?"

He nodded. "Yeah... getting the feeling there's more to it, though..."

"Like what?"

He shook his head, standing up and moving to grab his trenchcoat. "I dunno. But I'm sure I'll find out soon." He grabbed his hat, then looked at her. "Go ahead and call it a day whenever you like. I have a feeling this isn't going to be quick. Give Harold my regards when you get home." With that, he was out the door.

* * *

"Now I get why you were so cagey on the phone..." The scene was like something out of a nightmare. The body of what used to be a woman lay in pieces, even more mangled than the last one. So badly that if he had not been told she was a fox, he would never have been able to tell. Every limb was torn away, her torso was in two pieces, and her head looked to have been ripped off and thrown at the brick wall. With enough force that it splattered like a water balloon. The part that stuck out most obviously was what was left of her clothing: the remains of what had been a police uniform. She was a beat cop.

Susan nodded slowly. "Her name was Alicia Weaver. 23. She'd only been on the force for a little over a year."

"By all accounts, she was a good cop." Tag tensed as he heard the voice of Detective Jason Alistar behind him, sounding as acerbic as always. At least towards him.

He turned to see the ferret walking up, his partner beside him. Tag nodded politely in their direction. "Detectives." Jason just scoffed. Jan gave him a smile at least, though he could tell it was forced. Not that he blamed her, considering the scene. "Before you even start, don't worry, Jason. I'm taking this just as seriously as you." He turned back around to look at the body. "Just because I'm not a cop anymore doesn't mean I don't still feel when one is targeted."

Jan blinked at him. "You think she was targeted specifically? Because she was a cop?"

Jason scoffed again. "He's guessing."

"Speculating." The jerboa corrected, doing his best to keep his tone even and calm. "Clearly whoever this psychopath is, they have a lot of aggression. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest to learn they have something against authority figures in particular."

The ferret frowned even harder. "A lot of aggression? They're a fucking wild animal that needs to be put down! I don't care if they're technically a person. No one in their right mind can do..." he motioned to the mess. "...this."

Tag nodded. "In that, we agree. So let me do my thing so you can catch this maniac _by the book._Okay?"

Jason just scowled, but waved his hands dismissively a moment later. "Fine. Do your psychic bullshit. C'mon, Jan. Let's go take statements." With that, he sauntered off again. Jan followed, giving another apologetic smile, mouthing the word 'sorry' to him.

Tag looked at Susan, who had just stayed quiet during all that. "You really need to get him a leash."

The beaver shrugged. "I did. Her name is Janice." She then pointed at the body. "Go ahead. Do your thing. Tell me if there's anything we can use."

He nodded, taking several deep breaths to get himself ready. "Okay..." he crouched down nearby, doing his best not to stand in any of the blood. "Here we go..." he was not looking forward to witnessing such a grizzly murder. He reached out, gently touching the tatters of her uniform. His head was suddenly filled with flashes of bright white, his real sight fading as the vision took over. And suddenly...

* * *

He was a shirt again. A uniform this time. Crisp and clean, treated with care. Clearly, Alicia took great pride in her job. Her badge was pinned at her left breast pocket. She was breathing heavily, running. The way her arms stayed in front of her, clasped together... she was holding her sidearm. She ducked under something, a swing at her probably. She was not fast enough to avoid the follow-up, a straight punch to her stomach. It sent her flying backwards. She came down pretty hard on her back.

There was sudden heat at her wrists, and a hard jerk. Then a second. The recoil from gunshots. Her left hand flashed up to her right shoulder. Her radio was pinned there. She never got the chance to use it. The arm was gripped by something crushing. Then it was torn free, ripped off in one tug. Blood. It was everywhere, soaking through his fabric, torn at the shoulder now. Then there were more, claws ripping through him again. It was the same claws. He knew that. There was something else. Something dripped on him right before the claws struck...

Blood. Not her blood, but the wolf's. She had wounded him! Just like the semen before, there was something off about it. It was too strong. Too... powerful. Maybe some kind of new drug? It was like nothing he had ever experienced. Unfortunately, the wound did not seem to be fatal. Not instantly, anyway. It only pissed off the wolf. He had to be angry to attack the way he did. He clawed at her belly like he was searching for something, ripping her guts out. He bit down on her right arm, not tearing it off like the other, but just biting through the bone.

She was already dead by the time he felt the jerk from her neck, her head being ripped free of her shoulders. More claws, ripping him to shreds, and the remains of the fox. Once enough of her belly had been eviscerated, her torso was jerked away. He felt the fragments of bone as her spine shattered at her pelvis. Then the torso was dropped onto the ground. He felt nothing else then. The wolf was keeping his attention on the lower half, or what was left of it.

The vision faded, leaving his vision white for a moment once more. Along with just one thought.

* * *

"She shot him!" The words were out of his mouth before his mind had fully connected back into his own body. He recoiled away, staggering back to his feet.

Susan was beside him, looking with worried curiosity. "What?"

Tag looked around. "Where was it..." he brushed past the police chief, frantically trying to piece together the surroundings. He never got a full view of things when he was an object, only feelings. He had learned how to piece the information together to figure out just what the surroundings were. He crouched, touching the pavement, gently brushing his hands along it until he felt the exact texture on his fingertips that he had on his fabric. "Here... she was knocked here." It was a dozen or more feet away from where her body was now. He was surprised there wasn't more blood in this area.

He turned, trying to recreate the angle her arms were at. "She aimed... there..." he pointed forward, at an upwards angle. "Two shots. At least one hit."

Susan followed him, keeping a slight distance as he moved around erratically. She followed where he pointed. "We didn't find any shell casings. Or her sidearm. He must have taken those with him..."

Tag nodded, standing up and following his line. It led to a brick wall. He looked up and down the cracked surface, then smiled. "Maybe. But he can't clean up bullet holes." He pointed at the neat circle in the chipped brick, just above his own eye level. "I bet you anything you'll find a bullet in there, standard issue round." He leaned up a little, a big grin on his face as he peered into the dark hole. "And if we're lucky, some bl-" His fingers brushed near the hole, and screamed as another vision took hold. One unlike anything he had ever experienced.

His world became noise, like static mixed with a thousand TV channels in his head playing all at the same time. Disconnected images and moments flashed through his head, so fast he barely could register any of them. A child crying, a woman screaming, kids laughing, a father shouting obscenities. He felt the strike of a belt on his face, a punch to his stomach, his own knuckles bloodied as he beat a kid in school. Anger, fear, hatred, love, and loss. It all hit him in the blink of an eye. He was getting the entire life history of someone else blasted through his brain in less than a second.

Then the vision fixated on something. A massive wolf. It stood tall, as if taller than the trees. Naked, its black fur stood on end, its sharp teeth bared. It struck, biting into him, but not killing him. It infected him. He was the wolf now, strong, powerful, wild, and hungry. He hunted. His prey at first was just animals. Wild deer, then bigger things like elk, horses, and cattle. It was not enough. He hunted people. He started at home, showing off to his father his new power. He got shot by a shotgun for his troubles. It hurt, but he shrugged it off somehow. His father's blood was the best he had ever tasted. Then his mother's. Then his sister's. He needed more.

He came to the city, a fresh hunting ground. It was years since he first transformed. Became... a werewolf. _Werewolf!_That was what he was. A true shifter, not tethered to the moon like in the stories. He chose when. At first, he started small, killing the homeless. They tasted awful, but the thrill of the hunt was what drove him. He wanted new prey. Pretty prey. Cute things he could destroy. There were many he hunted. Women mostly.

The cute cat at the bar got his attention. She was only a little drunk. It made for a wonderful chase. So much fun, he had to fuck her. She was already split open, but her cunt was still usable. So he used it. Then he fed. Another night, another hunt. He broke into the home of a mouse. She screamed. Her husband screamed. Then her husband was on the ground, his throat torn so much, the spine was showing. The mouse sobbed as he fucked her. She was so tight. She bled around his cock. He ended her suffering once he came, ripping through her belly to eat her heart while it still beat.

The fox. She was cute. He had never hunted a cop before. Anger bubbled up as he remembered the cops that did nothing when he was a child, getting beaten by his father every day. They blamed him for lashing out. He lashed out now. He was sloppy, she saw him. She ran. He chased. He struck this time. Then the bitch shot him in the shoulder! Twice! He felt one bullet exit the back side. That bitch shot him! He had never felt so much fury. He tore into her, clawing out everything inside. Her face, still cute, dead. It was not enough. He had to make her pay. He tore that cute face off her body, and heaved it as hard as he could at the wall. It made a satisfying splat.

His fury did not ebb until he was cumming, his cock sticking out of the top of her detached pelvis. Her legs were gone, but she was still tight enough. He pulled her hips off his cock and chucked them with the rest of her gore. Then he remembered the gun. Cops could use those things to track people somehow. He still had the bullet in his shoulder. It would come out soon as he healed, but he couldn't risk it. He took her gun, found the casings from the shots, and took them, too.

The vision should have ended there... but it didn't. The wolf reverted back to himself. Still a wolf, but now he was normal. Weak. But weakness had strength. No one knew it was him. No one would ever suspect the nerdy blogger was a powerful werewolf. He was home now, showered and cleaned. His shoulder was healed. The bullet was on his desk. He cleaned it, too. He would make a necklace out of it. A memento. He sat at his laptop, refreshing the news constantly. It took hours before they finally reported on his latest kill. He came so hard to those stories. They were a new thrill he was addicted to.

He still had to do his job, though. He wrote up the article for the trashy news site he worked for, basically copy-pasting bits from different stories. They never cared. They always published it. Within an hour, it was up and getting views. "Wildman of Alta Ferro strikes again." Article by Owen Walshe.

* * *

Tag gasped as his consciousness snapped back into his own body. He bolted upright, then immediately regretted sitting up so fast, his head swimming for a moment. "Vic! Oh, thank God! Are you alright?" He blinked several times, shaking his head to try and clear it. It took several seconds before he realized he was on the ground, Susan crouched beside him. Her usually hard features were replaced by a look of worry.

He nodded. "Yeah... I'm... I think I'm fine?" He saw a hand offered to him, which he gratefully accepted.

The beaver helped drag him back to his feet. "What the hell was that? You've never straight up passed out before."

He shook his head again. "I... I don't know. Never had a vision like that before..." He gasped then. "The vision!" He quickly turned to his friend. "I know the perp's name! Owen Walshe! He's a-" He stopped himself. Could he really just say the man was a werewolf?

Susan pressed anyway. "He's a... what?"

Tag closed his eyes, only half-playing that he was still trying to get his bearings again. "He's a wolf. A blogger here in Alta Ferro. Seems to like posting about his own kills. I can give you his address. He's going to kill more unless we can stop him. He's addicted to it." The words just started to spill out of his mouth anyway. "A real serial killer type. Started with homeless, but recently evolved. Wants to hunt more... pretty prey. There was also a mouse couple he killed. I can-"

"Tag!" His words were interrupted by Susan once more. "How do you know all this?"

"I saw him! or... was... him? I was in his head when I touched the- The bullet!" He rushed over to the wall, though did not touch it this time. "There's a bullet lodged in the wall here, in... this hole." He pointed, still careful not to touch. "Also maybe some blood splatter. I think that's what... triggered my odd vision. But it will match the one he kept!"

The captain just gave him a look. "The bullet he kept? You're not making much sense here, Vic. But good find on the bullet."

Tag took a deep breath. "Right... sorry. It's all just so jumbled up." He took another deep breath to try and calm his thoughts. "Okay, so I followed where the bullet trajectory was from where Officer Weaver was laying when she shot him. One struck, but the other missed. It's still lodged in there. He forgot to get it when he was cleaning up afterwards. The other was still lodged in his shoulder. He's kept that one as a... trophy."

Susan nodded. "Right. So we'll put out an APB on a wolf with a bullet wound going to hospitals. This should-"

He interrupted her this time. "No... he didn't go to a hospital..."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Self-surgery on a bullet wound?"

Tag hesitated. "Ah... no." He took a deep breath, then just let it out in a sigh. "He... can heal quickly. He has... abilities. Like I have my touch." She gave him a dubious look. "Hey, I'm just as incredulous about this as you are. But it's probably why I got a really weird vision from him. You know my visions are real, so just... trust me on this. He's VERY dangerous, and needs to be stopped." He bit his lip for a moment. "Possibly with silver..."

She blinked. "Silv- Are you saying we really are dealing with a fucking WEREWOLF, Victor!?"

He sighed again. "Maybe. I don't know. He seems to think it's what he is. But whatever the case, he's extremely dangerous and WILL kill again. He needs to be stopped."

Susan sighed herself, shaking her head. "Well, unfortunately, even knowing this guy's name, we don't have any proof to get a warrant to search his residence. We'll need that if we're to get the guy. And you know I can't use your vision for it. Hunches also don't lead to warrants."

He nodded. "I know, but you have enough to at least watch him now. I'll give you his address. Call it an anonymous tip."

She nodded. "Yeah, we can do that, at least. But we're still going to need-"

"I'll get you proof." He gave her an adamant look. "I'll do my P.I. thing and dig into him. It'll be easier now that I've got a name and some ideas about where to look." He held up a hand before she could say anything. "Don't worry, it'll all be legal, court-admissible stuff. Will that work? I promise, if I can get you guys into his house, you'll find all the proof you need in there for an arrest. He's GOT to have other trophies."

She nodded. "Yeah, though just having the bullet to match the one in the wall there is enough for an arrest. More would be nice, though. Find me something I can use."

He nodded. "I will. This Owen guy needs to be taken out. He's too dangerous! I promise I'll find you something!"

* * *

He couldn't find anything. Nothing he could use, anyway. It was easy enough to find random, mostly useless info about the guy. The news blog was easy to track down. It read like a tabloid, all sensationalism and conspiracy theories. Even knowing half the stuff he put into the article was actually true, Tag found the whole thing hard to believe. It was worded like vampires, werewolves, witches, and other such creatures should be as common as cars and coffee. Most of the rest of the blog posts were much the same load of conspiracy nonsense. Then again, if werewolves WERE real, then there might be a grain of truth in there... somewhere. Not that he was about to spend the next few days digging for it.

Anything else he found out about this Owen character was mundane at best. He acted like a shut-in, not surprising considering what he wrote about. The blog seemed to be his only source of income, too. No other jobs on record. His address was easy enough to track down with a little common trick he learned a few years ago. He discovered that he liked to order a lot of delivery, and called one of the pizza places he liked to order from. Pretending to be Owen, claiming to have a cold to disguise his voice, he asked to verify the address they had for him, and sure enough, the teen on the other end just blurted it out with no other questions. Worth the price of a pizza.

Tag passed the exact address on to Susan. She let him know the best they could hope to do was put a car nearby to watch his apartment. With no probable cause that would hold up in court, that was all she could do. So it was up to him to find something tangible. And that meant it was time for a little B&E.

Before he left, he made sure to talk to the other person in the office. "Christa, I'm going to be heading out for the rest of the evening. You can knock off early."

The panda glanced up from her computer. "Oh? Got a date?"

He chuckled. "If only. No, it's work-related. The kind you don't know I'm doing, should anyone ask."

She knew what that meant. "Ah. Well, I hope you have a nice, restful day off at home then." She gave him a knowing smile. "I hear there's all sorts of new shows on those streaming services. I'm sure you'll be spending all day just totally absorbed in one of them. So I'll be sure no one calls and disturbs you."

He gave her a big grin. "You're the best."

"Oh, I know it." She went back to typing out the paperwork she had been working on. "Stay safe now."

He nodded. "I'll do my best." With that, he was off. The address he had gotten was across town, but he walked there anyway. If things did go sideways, it was best not to leave a record with a taxi or the like. The trip took him around an hour. The apartment complex was not a large one, only four stories tall. It still looked run down, with cracked bricks and dirty windows. He really wished he didn't end up at places like these as often as he did. Second only to seedy motels that charged by the hour.

He stayed out of sight of the black sedan parked on the street, not wanting the plainclothes officers inside to see him. Susan may as well have sent an actual squad car with uniforms to sit outside it was so obvious. It was too clean for this part of town, the two inside too quiet to be locals. There was no way they would see anything from where they were, anyway. Owen's apartment was on the other side of the building. "Amateurs." he huffed under his breath.

His entrance to the place was a back door. He was ready to pick it, but the thing was open. A quick look, and it seemed the lock had been broken some time ago, a rusty hole where the bolt should be. Well, that at least made his job a little easier. Owen's place was on the third floor, so up the stairs he went. He found the door he was looking for quickly. Apartment 304. This time, the lock was intact. He reached into one of the deep pockets of his overcoat, fishing out his lockpicks. A few seconds later, the door gave a satisfying click. He was inside.

He had timed things out. His search showed that Owen left his house at very specific times. Right now was one of those times. He had an hour to look around. The first thing on his list was the bullet. He also hoped to grab the man's laptop if he could. Though finding anything would be a task. The place was an absolute mess. Empty fast food containers, dirty plates, dirtier laundry, and all kinds of other trash was littered about. "What an absolute slob."

Tag carefully made his way further inside, gingerly nudging things here and there with a foot. He wished he brought gloves with him for this. He really did not want to touch anything. Not just because of how disgusting it was, but he didn't want to end up getting a vision of the man doing his laundry or something. Though the further he went into the house, the less he was sure he even did laundry. "How the hell does someone live like this?"

Finally, he found what passed for a workstation. A folding table with a desk chair, both looking like they might fall apart at the slightest provocation. Sitting atop the table was a laptop. Finally, some good luck. He followed where the cord led and yanked it free of the wall. There was no sign of the bullet anywhere, but this was good enough. Just as he picked it up, someone spoke. "Sure hope you're not stealing from me, mouse."

Tag's blood ran cold. He knew the voice, even though this was the first time he had heard it in person. Turning, he saw a brown-furred wolf giving him a hungry smile. "Owen Walshe." The wolf's grin widened as he stepped closer. "And I'm a jerboa, by the way. Not a mouse."

Owen nodded. "Ah, good to know. Always nice to know just what your next meal is." He blinked when Tag didn't flinch. "No reaction to that? You that frozen in fear, little rodent?" He sniffed the air. "No... it's not just fear. There's something more to you." He chuckled. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"One of who?" He was surprised to find his voice as even as it was.

The wolf frowned. "Don't play dumb, scarecrow. You're one of them hidden cops, right?"

"I'm not a cop."

"_ LIAR! _" The word was shouted with such ferocity, it almost seemed to echo around the room. "I can smell it on you. Magic." Tag just blinked, confused. Did he mean his powers? They weren't magic... as far as he knew. "Oh, I haven't had the chance to eat one of you yet!" The man started to grow before him as he talked, gaining height, muscle, and more fur. "And here you are, delivering yourself right into my house!" The voice grew deeper, more gravely. Soon, the wolf stood taller than him, having almost doubled in size. "Thank you."

Suddenly, the hulk of a man lunged forward. He was incredibly fast for someone so large, especially in a room so full of clutter. Tag's hand reached down into his pocket, groping for the revolver inside, though he knew it would do nothing. Even if he did somehow manage to get it out and aimed in time, the bullets would do little more than piss off the beast. He was done for, and he knew it. It would take a miracle to save him from this.

The next moment, a miracle arrived. It happened so incredibly fast, yet somehow in slow motion at the same time. The window beside the wolf suddenly shattered inwards, spraying shards of glass in all directions, a blur of black, blue and white in the middle of it all. Tag saw it was a woman, a rat? With black fur and long, silver hair. She wore some kind of blue outfit that looked like a uniform, though he did not recognize it. She also wore a wild grin on her face, as feral as the wolf's. Startlingly crimson eyes looked at him for only a moment before turning their gaze to Owen. She landed in the middle of the glass, moving the instant her feet touched the ground. She slammed her shoulder into the wolf, and despite being a fraction of his size, the werewolf was sent tumbling backward so hard, when he struck the wall it cracked.

Time returned to normal speed for him so suddenly that he tripped over his own feet. The wall behind him was the only reason he did not end up on his ass, though his spine was not very happy with the impact. "W-wha?" It was about all he could manage.

The rat turned to him, and he saw the vicious, bloodthirsty look in her eyes. Suddenly, like flipping a switch, everything about her changed. Not her appearance, but the look was almost innocent. "Hey! I'm Ginny. Good to finally meet you in person."

Again, all he could manage was. "What!?"

She sighed. "Yeah, she told me you might be a little awkward. Well, don't worry. I'll explain everyth-" Her words were cut off as a hand suddenly erupted from her chest in a spray of blood.

Owen growled behind her. "Bitch! You ruined my window and my hunt! I guess I'm eating two rodents today."

Ginny looked down at the hand sticking out of her chest. Though the look she gave it was less like someone just literally punched through her, and more like the mild annoyance someone gives looking at tea they just spilled on their shirt. "Oh. Right." She gave an apologetic look to Tag. "One second. I need to deal with this first." Now it was the wolf's turn to be confused. Normally, putting a hole in someone's chest was a pretty surefire way to kill them.

What he was not expecting was the woman to smash her head back against his nose, hard enough that it broke. He ripped his hand free and grabbed at his face. "AH! Bitch!" He growled. "The fuck are yo- URK!" His words were cut off as her hand grasped him by the throat. Even more surprising was how she lifted him off of his feet. She was so thin, she looked like she would struggle to lift a toaster, let alone a 400 lbs werewolf.

"My name is Ginny D. I'm a revenant. I'm also an agent of blah blah blah, who cares." He grabbed at her wrist, kicking in the air as she continued to choke him with seemingly no effort. "And you, Mr. Walshe, have been a very... VERY naughty boy." She gave him a grin that was anything but friendly. "And you're also annoying me." She squeezed her hand, her fingers suddenly digging into the wolf's flesh. Blood started to trickle down her hand as his whole demeanor shifted from angry to suddenly very, very afraid.

As if suddenly remembering, she said, "Oh, right. You are found guilty of murder, rape, cannibalism, yadda yadda, all that jazz. Anyway, you can die now." She yanked her hand back, ripping the front of the man's throat away with it. He collapsed onto the floor, grasping at his neck. Blood gushed from the gaping wound at an alarming rate. She brought the throat up to her nose and sniffed it, only to flinch away. "Ugh. No thank you." She tossed the gore away, wiping her hand off on her already bloody uniform. "Smells like you haven't bathed in months."

Tag just stood there as all this unfolded, completely dumbstruck by the whole display. One moment, he was about to be mauled by an honest-to-goodness werewolf, and the next some tiny rat with superpowers saved him? He checked himself to see if he was having another one of his visions, but his body was very much still there. Finally, he spoke up. "What... the _FUCK_is going on!?"

Ginny turned to smile at him, once more looking innocent... as innocent as she could while covered in gore as the werewolf bled to death behind her. "Oh. Yeah, sorry about that." She stepped forward, holding out a bloody hand, then thinking better of it. "I'm Ginny. I was sent to keep an eye on you, keep you safe while you looked into the whole werewolf thing. And, once it was all said and done, bring you in."

He glanced at the wolf, now laying still on the floor in a pool of his own blood. "...if I say no...?"

She giggled. "Oh, don't worry. You won't end up like him. I'm here to keep you safe, remember? But you really should come with me. All this will make a lot more sense once we get back to HQ."

His head hurt. "What HQ? Get back where!? Who are you? WHAT are you!?"

The rat sighed. "I told you, I'm Ginny, and I'm a revenant." She said that like it meant anything to him. She turned toward the door, motioning for him to follow. "C'mon. I'll explain on the way." Before he could ask the next obvious question, she answered. "It's long past time that you get to know about Noxumbra."

* * *