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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A dark look at the supernatural world in Chicago. A glimpse of the life and history of werewolves, Lycans, and vampires. Crim is an upstart Lycan trying to carve out a decent life for himself and others of his kind. this is where he begins.

Submitted: December 10, 2013

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Submitted: December 10, 2013



The moon was glowing brightly on their backs, casting twisting shadows of rotting men and horrific beast. The street, bare and empty, made a whistling sound through the night. A clock chimed three times, signaling three o'clock, the witches hour. The Overworld is silent at night, noise and lights coming from only nightclubs and the random big rig. The vampires are hunting, stalking for prey, hiding in the shadows, watching. The others had spread out, fanning the streets and alleyways.

To humans, they seem like wandering drunks fresh out of a pub. To anything else, they smell of rotting death and blood. One such creature named Drake, prowled inside a bar, eying the soon to be livestock with a sinister smile. Moon pale skin, gelled back hair, and black slacks kept him hidden in the shadows. Drake is the kind of scum that always seems to get his way. The prince of Chicago as he likes to call himself. His father is member of the council, both locally, nationally, and globally. So when Drake gets caught red handed and thrown in prison, there’s nothing to keep him in.

His guard, the lycan named Crim, short for Crimson, or me, I was keeping watch for any trouble makers in the crowd. I stand at around six two, wide shoulders, and have lean muscle. I guess it makes me an intimating figure, but unless you really look at me, I look innocently small.

Drake causally walked over to me, acting as if he was heading towards the bar for another shot. He stumbled. I caught him with a surprised look on his face; my hair bristles sliding on the drunks face. “Tell Butch the first rounds on me.” Drake whispered in my ear and shoved off for a nearby girl that looks suspiciously like a minor.

Without saying a thing, I walked off for the exit, pushing through a pulsing wave of music and people, all pressed close in a raging orgy of life and freedom. “There must be at least three hundred people here, none of them even have the slightest clue has to what is about to happen and there is nothing I can do about it. All of them will die in just a few short moments, all to feed a small handful of blood sucking bats.”

As I was almost to the door when someone ran into my shoulder. “Hey! Watch were you’re going, you ass...” I tried to shout but instead slipped in a sticky pile of water that smelled like boiled cabbage and scotch. Or at least I hope its water.

“Hey! Watch were you're stepping, punk. I'm trying to mopped up some vomit you just fell in.” An old man complained over me. He was missing most of his teeth and his breath smelled like the cabbage vomit I was laying in.

Is this guy serious? It's probably his vomit anyways! “Who the hell do you think you are?” I demanded. “You think I like lying down in your vomit you dirty old man.” The coot looked me up and down, staring at me for a long moment. “Why the hell are you staring at me for, you pervy old man?” I shouted at him and he cackled, cabbage spittle flying everywhere.

“I like you kid, you remind me of when I was your age, all balls and no head.” He leaned forward, supported heavily by his mop and whispered, “Now get the hell out of here pup before I throw you out of here with your tail in between your legs.” He stood up straight and smiled again. “Get going. Go on. Bye-bye”

I was going to make a smart ass remark before Drake glared at me from behind the girl he chased after. I took a look around and a few people were staring at me. “This isn't over old man.” I swore and walked out, keeping a good eye planted on the janitor.

The street was cold, a light fog drifted through the empty streets. Across the road was a bum passed out drunk, drooling slightly, cradling a bottle of rum in his arm like it was the most precious thing in the world. I could smell him from the front door of the club, even with cabbage spit all over me.

Walking across the street, I could tell that there was a lot more where he came from, I could almost hear the beat of all their hearts. This unsettles me, all the hearts are uneven and fast paced hearts of vampires. None the steady, rhythmic beat of my pack. I hurried the rest of the way across the street.

The bum seemed not to notice as I slumped down next to him, reaching out for his bottle. I had my fingertips barely touching the neck when the liquor flew away from my outstretched hand, a glare coming from the hobo. “Let me get this straight with you, this is my booze, not yours, and I don't like beggars.” He took a swig to prove his point. “What does the big man inside say, I’m hungry.” Butch his an alright guy. Well, for a blood drinking vampire anyway. He doesn’t kill because he wants to and he usually holds himself in reserve. He’s what some would call a human conservative.

I snatched the bottle from Butch anyways and took a drought. With a sigh, I exclaimed, “I wasn’t begging and Hoss says first rounds on him, I suggest charging the cheap bastard with lots of whiskey.”

“Ugh, you like that shit?” he gave me a loom of disgust. “No, no, the real nice stuff is under the floor boards where the heat can't find it.” Taking a dog whistle from his neck, he blew one, pure note, calling any and all vamps in the area to the party. Standing up to go to the ‘all you can eat buffet’, he turned, jerking back his rum from my grip, and just as I was about to take another guzzle, too. “By the way, if you touch my rum again, I swear on the bitch that popped you out, I’ll drown you in so much whiskey, that you will never touch alcohol ever again.”


Butch laughed and jumped to club, not spilling a single drop of liquor on the way. I stood up, taking a long moment to deep breath, taking in all the scents of the area, searching for my pack. A street of Chicago is not the place anyone wants to be sniffing around, the stench of piss, homeless, rats, and spirits stains every crack. A forever footprint that this wonderful town has bestowed on the world. It took me a little while more than I would have liked to find them, but that's Chicago for you.

Their scent led me a block or so away and down an ally and to the back door of a butcher shop. The alarm system lay broken on the ground, the door hung loosely on a hinge, and the noise of crunching bones and ripping flesh rolled out of the door way. I found my pack.


Inside I could see five large wolf like forms, much like the jackals of ancient Egypt, hunched over giant slabs of cow ribs, tearing hunks of flesh the size of large melons and swallowing them whole. One of the five was smaller than the others with sickly green fur and was nibbling on a bone, the runt of the pack. Whenever he tried to get anything other than the others scraps, it was a struggle not to get his head ripped off.

“Can someone please tell me what is going on here before I send you all whimpering to the bitches that gave birth to you miserable sods with your tails in between your legs!” I yelled. The wolfs stopped in surprise, slowly lowering their heads, a couple whimpering.

“We hungry.” the sickly one replied. Neil, the sickly one, was the only one other than myself in the group that can speak in their hybrid form. Neil and I spent our early child hoods together, becoming fast friends for throughout each other’s life. As teenagers, we figured that to stand out from the average lycan that we should try to have the largest vocabulary in our hybrids forms, also known as our second skin.

Lycans are human in their first skin and have the ability to morph at will into their second skin. Our second skin is that of a massive wolf that can stand at least six feet high, reaching up to 10 feet in length. It comes with heighten ability such as greater strength and senses, making us the perfect apex predator. Lycans are fairly new in this age. Werewolves weren’t really allowed to live in the dark days. They were just lucky to be alive at all.

We come from werewolf parents. Werewolf’s are just the same as Lycans except for that they cannot control when they change. A werewolf will always change on the eve of when they were bitten. When a person is bitten by a werewolf or a natural werewolf, they will change at the same time they were bitten, every day. The time span of each change is largely random, usually around six to eight hours.

A natural werewolf is a large wolf that is extremely aggressive with a bite that will turn humans into werewolf’s. They are rare and located in areas that only the most extreme outdoors man will ever visit, and because of such, are considered by many, even in the supernatural community, to be nothing more than a urban legend.

I stared at them all, taking in their small bulges they call stomachs and the almost insane look in their eyes. I took a deep breath, smelling the hunks of cow flesh and wet dog, sensing the fear and hunger radiating from my small pack.

“I understand that times are rough now,” I lectured. “but that still gives you no reason to steal, and on a job no less! How do any of you believe as to how we could be taken seriously if at any given moment, a potential employer believes that we are all gorging our self on their time. Now, if you don’t get back to your post by the time I can shift, you'll be answering to Drake.” I looked at them all, standing around, looking lost. “What are you all waiting for, MOVE!” They scattered, leaving Neal behind with me.

“Sorry, Crim, I smelled food, they follow” Neil apologized, head hung low and eyes pointed at his feet. I took a moment to breath, once again calming himself down. I eyed the meat locker, spotting a torso of a cow that the pack had been tearing up. I walked past Neil and towards it. I ripped off a slab of ribs and tossed it in front of him.

“I get it, but damn it Neil, if one of those vamps saw this, they would go insane, just, just get back to your post, another half hour or so and we're done, get there and keep your head down, I have to get back to bar, we'll talk later, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, and Neil,” I looked him in the eyes. “please be careful.”

I turned and left the shop. While walking down the back alley, I heard the first screams from the pub. I had to stopped myself from shifting, I knew it was just the events of the night taking its toll. I continued down to the road, seeing the nightclub on my far right. I decided to stop to lean against a wall staring at the sky, trying perceive the stars through the city gloom. I always liked to look at them, even if poorly through the city smog. They have calmed me down more times than I can remember. It just has something to do with them being so far away and so bright.

A soft thump and sound of bones snapping behind me alerted me to the presence of Tazz, my top commander. Without moving I asked, “What'cha got for me, Tazz?” Tazz stepped out of the shadows, starched naked with only a elastic throng protecting his privacy.

He is ex-military and has broad shoulders and a buzz cut that gives him that look that says 'Do something, I dare you'. I’ve known him long enough to know that he hates his first skin with a passion. He believes it makes him weak. “We've got cops, two patrol cars, coming from the north east, here in twenty.” The police will only get themselves killed, or worse, I would have to kill them myself if I don’t do something fast.

I cursed, “Fuck! Someone must have called the heat when the vamps attacked. “Damn, all right, make a distraction, gunfire should work, maybe wolf sightings, hell, piss on them if you have to, just get them the hell out of here, Go!” Tazz nodded with a grunt and slipped back into the darkness, leaving only the echoes of his bones snapping back into its second skin. I hurried back to the club keeping an eye out for lights in nearby buildings. “Damn it! Why do of all nights does this one have to involve cops and the biggest vampire slaughter in thirty years!?”

I heard a gunshot in the distance and screeching and took off at a full sprint. As the pub came back into view, the smell of blood and rape and terror flooded my mind, forcing me to stumble and nearly black out. I practically fell on the door. The door of the bar was locked and probably barred from the other side as well. “Fuck! I'll have to climb up to the balcony.”

A small patio balcony stretched over the side walk and a couple of support beams propped it up from above the door. I jumped, wrapping my hands around one such beam to get my legs up. I had to shimmy up to the edge of the balcony to reach up to pull himself up. Another scream and a rush of blood rage ran through my head, making me slip, barely grabbing the ledge by the tips of my fingers. Looking down, I saw that I barely saved myself from being skewered on the sharp points of the decorative fence around the outside tables. Taking a breath, I hauled myself back on and over the rail.

The second story door was of coursed, locked and covered from outside view. I simply broke through the glass door. That first wave of gore stained smog did black me out and I didn’t wake up until Drake, in all his compassion, dumped an entire keg of beer right on top of my head. The sight I woke up to almost made me want to faint again. Hardly a square inch of the place wasn’t covered in blood or flesh in some fashion. Women hung from chains, raped until they had holes widen to horrific sizes and gutted like the meat from the raided meat shop, only with their entrails spread around like spider webs. Men were crucified on the walls and ceilings, eyelids ripped off to force them to watch the horror around them.

I accidentally vomited on Drakes creepily spotless shoes of a strange, black leather that instantly rewarded me with a dozen or so kicks all up and down my body. “What the hell are you doing here, mutt? You interrupted my party.” he said in disgust.

Between a bloody cough I could choked out, “Love what you did with the place, Drake, it really compliments your suit. I wonder if the cops will like it too, they'll be here in a few moments.”

“Hmm, I’m a little full at the moment, but maybe they'll like our leftovers, what do you say boys! Let us have ourselves a little initiation! A momentous night like this requires new blood to the clan, I say!” The clan started to yip and hoot.

I wobbled up, leaning heavily on the counter. “Drake, you know that directly violates the laws of the council of thirteen, laws set by your own...”

“DO NOT LECTURE ME ON THE LAWS OF THE THIRTEEN, DOG! Times are changing lycan, and I will be leading the new world and I will be setting new laws and you will remain as you all ways have, nothing but a stringy mutt.” He ended his little speech by punching me right in the gut and threw me through the stairs and into a little closet.

Another shot of blood spurted out of my mouth and onto the ground. Then time just seemed to slow down. Every detail seemed more in depth. The fly’s swarming the fresh meat seemed frozen, slowly flapping their wings. I could see the individuals veins etching their way into a pattern across them, and how they were brushing up against the tiny hairs on its body. I noticed Drake leaping towards me, his fangs thrusting out of their sockets, his iconic, vampire blue eyes widen into black pits. I could only watch as Drakes tongue crept out and slowly split down the center and into a fork. His nails grew fast, even in slow-Mo and shaped into wicked claws.

But what I really caught my eye was the scent of my own blood boiling me into a rage that I have never experienced before. It seemed to calm me down greatly and helped to channel my emotions into one, primeval thought, KILL. My body seemed to take a mind of its own. My arms heaved me up out of the hole, my legs shot me above and over Drake, landing lightly behind him.

“I have no idea of what you have planned for the future, Drake, but, I do know I want nothing to do with it. I also know that I won’t allow you to ruin the lives of more innocent people.”

Drake whipped around and hissed. “Ssso, the puppy wantsss to play. Well, I'll play with you, mutt.” He lunged at me, hitting me square on, forcing us both through the wall and on to the street, breaking up as we hit asphalt.

I had to struggled to my knees and spat out a globe of blood. “If you believe that just because your father is a council member that you can do whatever the hell you want, you got another thing coming.”

Butch flew out of the bar and helped Drake up. “He's right, man, if your old man finds out-”

“To hell with Father, hisss time isss coming.”

“Listen to him Drake, pay up, get your posse, and get the hell out. If we fight, only one of us will get out alive. And it wont be me.”

“Your right that only one will live, Mutt, and once I’m done with you, I'll kill all of your little friends, and feed the pieces to the cats!” He jumped at me again, making me have to roll out the way, shifting to my second skin. When in my hybrid form, I stand at an impressive eight and a half feet tall, a timber wolf snout, a straight, thick tail, and a black fur coat with a crimson shine to it.

Butch ran to Drake. “NO!. Ssstay out of thisss Butch, hesss mine!” Butch stopped and held up his hands.

“Whatever you want, Hoss.”

When a wolf fights, it is with cunning and patience, they will always hunt in packs, slowly bleeding out their enemy. When a lone wolf does gets cornered, it will fight with all it has until it either wins, or dies.

A bat does not fight, it sneaks on to its prey or snatches them straight out of the sky. A vampire is not a bat, it has evolved into a supreme human killer. They hunt primly at night, hence the myth that they will die in sunlight. They don't. To die in the light would be a weakness, vampires have no weakness. With the ability to run down any human, fight of mobs of angry villagers, and jump out high dangerous areas with ease, they are at the top of the food chain.

Unlike a werewolf, a vampire must drink the blood of humans to survive. A vampires heart has lost the ability to produce its own blood and needs more blood to keep it's self-alive. The disease of vampirism is contracted when one acquires the blood of a vampire, even as low has one drop can turn a human. Some vampires have disciplined themselves to live off the blood of animals, and in such, spare human lives.

If a vampire does not feed for at least three days, they will die of lack of blood. The more a vampire feeds, the faster they can regenerate and heal cuts, holes, and even entire limbs. Drake just had an all you eat buffet.

He pulled out a semiautomatic machine gun and started to spray and pray. The bullets ate everything away, the buildings, the roads, the lamp post, and all missing chunks. I jumped over the line of fire, landing behind his foe. Drake turned around to face him but it was too late for him. I snapped his arms in pieces with his huge jaws that are large enough to swallow a football whole. Drake hissed, dropping the gun and kicked me into a car.

He heard Drake snap his arms together and pick his gun up again. He himself rolled out of the wreck of the car and growled at the vamp. “Put the gun down and I’ll let the rest of your flock live.”

He threw the gun away. “A ssshot to the head isss to easssy for you, I'm going to enjoy making your pelt into a rug.” With that, he pulled out a bowie knife that gleamed in the dim light. I ripped off a door from the car and threw it at him. It was dogged easily but it allowed them to get close, letting me land a heavy right hook, knocking him down.

I pounced to get a heavy two handed, sledge hammer like smash on Drakes head but he rolled out the way, making him crack the road instead. Drake slashed with his knife, backing me up on the side walk. Frustrated, he threw the knife at his head and would have impaled his head like a dart to a water balloon if I had not had that same slow motion sense once again, letting him see the anger on Drakes face and the point of the knife aimed at the center of his skull. He turned his head out of the way, watching slowly as it flew past him. He could clearly see his reflection move across the projectiles keen surface.

What amazed him the most was not the slow motion action of everything around him but his own eyes. They were not the giant black pupils like a vampire, but the complete opposite, completely white. It was as if someone stole a part of the moon for his eyes and he could clearly see that they gave off a soft glow. Then something jarred him, bringing him back to a normal time speed. His back hit a wall and Drake was on his chest, face to face. The knife was quivering in the wall right next to his ear. Drake jerked it out with as little effort as if it the wall wasn't there and pushed the blade to his neck.

“I'm going to enjoy thisss, your entire pack will watch helplesssly asss I ssskin you alive, then I will kill all of them, one by one, jussst asss I will you.” But the blow never came, Drake was forced off him and to confront a new enemy. Neil had just saved his life. Drake and him were rolling around, snapping at each other, trying to get the advantage of one another. Before I could do anything about it, Drake had Neil in a head lock, Neil squirming around like a worm trying to avoid a fishing hook. Even as Drake made to rip his prey's throat out, the world slowed down again and he leaped to save his Savior.

He starred at Neil, watched the emotions in his eyes. He saw courage and pride, happiness and joy, and the knowledge that he was not going to survive. He knew it the moment he met me that if he stayed with me, that he will die young and yet he did not care. He knew that he would never again see his best friend and for that he cried. Not because he was scared, but because he wanted me to know that he loved him as a brother and was more than happy to die for him. He gave a meek and yet sincere smile, his biggest and joyful one that I ever saw him give. And he died, Drakes long and jagged teeth ripped open the closet family as I have ever had.

I snapped. Logic was torn from his mind replaced with pure instinct, anger, and grief. He grabbed Drakes head in between his jaws and shook him like a rag doll. The only way to permanently kill a Vampire is rather destroy the heart or behead them. The latter is exactly what I did, taking most of the spinal cord with it. Then he howled his victory to the world, celebrating the death of one who killed one of his own.

Only when he was finished did he notice the members of Drakes party standing around him, staring at him with wonder and horror. When his gaze met with Butch’s he ran, throwing one of his friends at the lycan to save himself. My primeval instincts made him smile at the thought of so many prey around him like dazed does. Than anger that they were Drakes swarm, his pack, and he wanted more vengeance for his foster brother’s death, the pain of witch had brought tears to his eyes. The vamps saw this insanity and ran, some stayed to fight, and for all the good it did them. When he was finished with the braves, he then went on the hunt for the rest of the bats, howling all the while.


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