"What makes an Alpha different from other wolves?" a young boy, sitting between his mother's legs, asked as he curiously lifted his eyes to look at his mother.
"That's a wonderful question, Dean." She responded as she kissed his forehead lightly. "It is called the scent of leadership. A trait that comes from deep within the hearts of those willing to face hardship as a sacrifice for those they care for. The first to face the storm, and the last to seek shelter from it," she continued. "So you have to be a good guy to become an Alpha?" Dean turned to face his mother. "No, my dear. Being good isn't enough. It takes more than a good man to become an Alpha. You also have to be strong and fearless." She tickled him and blew on his stomach as he giggled playfully. "I am strong and fearless!" Dean raised his hand to flex his (non-existent) muscles. "Yes, you are," his mother lifted him by his armpits into the air. "And you will become the strongest Alpha there is." She spoke with a gentle smile while he smiled with all his teeth showing. A sound of a door opening caught both their attention. "Dad's home!" an excited Dean rushed towards the exit of the room. “Theodore!” his mother called out for his father. They heard the sound of footsteps shuffling downstairs, but there was no response. His mother immediately became cautious, her expression changing as she raised her nose and sniffed, trying to use her enhanced senses to identify whoever might have just entered the house. Not recognizing the scent, she rushed to catch Dean and then told him to hide in the standing cupboard they had, one they normally used to play hide and seek. It was dry and slightly musty because it had been a while since it had been used, but Dean went in, able to tell from his mother’s anxious expression that this was no joke. “Who is there?” his mother shouted fiercely as she took a defensive position at the entrance to the room. Dean could barely see what was happening through the tiny slits of the cupboard but noticed someone shrouded in dark clothing walked into the room, and there was an exchange that Dean could not quite make out. There was a moment of silence before a large crash. Dean woke up with a start. This was probably the longest sleep he had had in a while. He always kept waking up to the same nightmare: his mother’s death. One would have thought that after some 15 or so years he would have gotten over it, but it still felt fresh each time. The fear, the panic, the helplessness, the regret—it always felt new. He had gone over that night so many times over the decade, thinking about what he could have done differently. What if he had come out of the cupboard against his mother’s instruction? Could he have stopped her death? The pain, anguish, and disappointment on his dad’s face when he returned home that day did not help in the slightest. He could still remember his father’s voice, clear as day, shouting at him, “Why didn't you do anything? This is all your fault. It should have been you that died. Leave my sight!” All harsh words that carried with him throughout his childhood. But he wasn’t a child anymore, he thought to himself as he looked in the bathroom mirror. “Not too shabby,” he thought to himself as he washed the sleep off his face. He had the physical build of an NBA player and, at 6’3”, he actually had the height for it. He had turned twenty-eight a couple of months back, no longer the helpless kid who could do nothing while his mother was killed in front of him. Of all the memories that stuck with him that night, one stood clearer than the rest: the scent of his mother’s killer, always persistent at the back of his mind as he thought of nothing else besides revenge for his mother. He entered the bathroom shower stall and proceeded to take his bath. Coming out, he grabbed a towel and dried his dark black hair, one of his more generic features. He heard his phone vibrate over on the bed and he went to take a look. It was a message from Sam. “Wake up, sleepy head…,” Dean rolled his eyes, “…location confirmed, Neon Nights across 53rd Avenue, I'll be there.” Dean dropped the phone and went over to his wardrobe. He picked out a pair of black jeans and reached for his favorite go-to hoodie but then remembered that the day promised a little more excitement than usual and he would definitely not want to lose his hoodie in the process. He and Sam had been hunting down a werewolf pack that had apparently just returned to town, and their departure date coincided with the month his mother was killed. Dean found out about the existence of werewolves when he was a little over 10 years old. The excitement at the confirmation of their existence was second only to when he found out he was one. He remembered his dad demonstrating his partial morphing ability as proof and explaining how it all works. Dean was barely concentrating, overcome by the excitement of potentially being able to do these things himself. “Can we fly?” he remembered asking his dad while his dad was trying to explain what powers came with it. His dad started lamenting about how werewolves were getting misinterpreted in movies and series and wondering where they got their silly concepts from while his mom burst out laughing. Those were the good old days, when they were still a family. Shortly after his mom died, his dad abandoned the clan and left the city. Dean had not heard from him ever since. He put on his kicks and headed out, but not before he looked at himself in the mirror one more time. His expression turned serious, "This time for sure," he whispered to himself. Dean got to the location and saw someone standing outside the bar, simply dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with The Avengers logo on it. It was Sam. He walked and stopped as soon as he was beside him. “Neon Nights, huh? Quite shabby for a bar. You sure this is the right place?” Dean asked as he read the signboard over the bar, which ironically enough was not in neon lights and was open during the day. It was a run-of-the-mill type bar, a single story with apartments above it. There was no security outside, which was normal for a werewolf hideout. Anubis pity the person that tries to cause trouble in a bar filled with werewolves. “And a good day to you as well," Sam responded with a smirk. Dean glanced at him with a side-eye before the two chuckled at the inside joke of the moment. "I am as sure as I can be about the details we are operating with. The timeline matches and their return is suspicious. New York is already filled with packs; why would anyone else want to come here?” Sam spoke out while cracking his fists. “Fair enough. I really hope this is it. This is the third bar we are checking this week. At this point, I can probably comfortably write a tourist guide to New York, or better still a werewolf’s guide to New York: all hideouts to visit,” Dean joked. "If only we could bust in transformed. It would give us that element of surprise." A slyish smile filled Sam's face. “Yeah, but you know we are not allowed to display our powers in public. The council will have a field day with you if you are ever caught doing it. After getting a witch to wipe the memories of any humans that might have seen it, they will go to town on you, probably strip you of your position in the clan, maybe even attempt to restrict you from using your powers. I hear they have made progress in being able to strip a werewolf of his morphing ability,” Dean sighed as he began taking steps closer to the bar. “Fine, fine, yeah, I hear you. No need to go into details about the how,” Sam interrupted while following him. Despite having basically been preparing himself for this moment for the better part of his life, Dean was a bit anxious. This could be it; he could finally avenge his mother’s death and make the monster that killed her pay for its grievous crimes. Just thinking about it made him angry all over again. No more time to waste, time to face my fate.. The bar had one of those push-pull double doors. Sam pushed the first door while Dean pulled the second one, which led to them entering side by side at basically the same time. They walked up to the central table where the bartender was. He was a slightly older man with a cleaning cloth over his shoulder and a black shirt with a metal band Dean definitely did not recognize on it. He looked like the textbook picture of a werewolf in human form with a tough aura about him and a scruffy yet full beard that gave the image of someone you do not want to mess with while still carrying a different personality about him. He did not give off an extremely violent aura. “Hey guys, what can I get you?” he asked. “A diet soda, please,” answered Dean as he looked at Sam, waiting for his answer. “I’ll have a Pale Ale. Would be a waste to enter a bar and not get a man’s drink,” Sam snickered with a short jab at Dean. But Dean knew that for what might occur today he would need his full wits about him; he could not allow any potential lapse in judgment or clouding of his senses. “One diet Coke and one real man’s drink coming up,” said the bartender as he went to the back to refill the ice container for the drinks. Dean and Sam took a seat at the table as they awaited their drink. “What is an Alpha doing so far from his pack?” Dean and Sam turned around to take a look at who said it. A young man who could not have been much older than both of them was walking towards them with a sneer on his face. The look of someone who was looking to stir up trouble. Unfortunately for him, violence was a part of Dean’s daily routine, one he had grown up learning to perfect. Stillness in the bar as a chilling silence took over. Sam's claws began to creep out as his senses heightened, ready for whatever was coming. Dean, on the other hand, maintained a calm demeanor. The bartender soon brought their orders and placed them in front of them. "Ignoring, are we? Don't want any trouble?" The young man inched closer to Dean, jesting in a fake British accent. A few goons in the bar began to laugh while others started leaving. "Easy, Boy. You're scaring off my customers," the bartender said, trying to calm the young man now standing right behind Dean. "Another failure," Dean hissed. He cracked his neck, completely ignoring the young man who was oozing bloodlust. "All this heightened energy, and still nothing scents familiar.... It's another bust Sam," Dean added as he began drinking his Coke. "Yeah..." Sam smirked as he began to drink his glass. Irritated, the young man bared his fangs and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Before anyone could react, Dean stabbed his claws into the man's hand and twisted it, causing the man to bow. He roared in pain. Dean slid his glass slightly to the right, grabbed the man by the back of his head, and smashed his face into the glass, breaking it and enmeshed the shards deep into the man's face. The man fell to the ground unconscious, blood rippling from his wounds. "It is rare to see a wolf both drunk and stupid, but I think your pack is the exception," Dean scoffed, turning to face those left in the bar with a deadly glow in his eyes. Six of them stood up and prepared to attack. Sam threw his beer bottle at one, then with his speed grabbed the second by the throat, lifted him, and slammed him through a table, choking him unconscious. Two dashed towards Sam, but Dean came from behind, grabbed their heads, and smashed them into each other. He lifted them by their feet and tossed them to opposite sides of the bar, smashing into the furniture. Sam stood to his feet and with quick reflexes, evaded a claw strike, then jammed his claws into the guts of his attacker. As the man coughed out blood, Sam dragged his head into his knee before kicking him into a pile of chairs. The last two shivered at the sight of Dean and Sam and quickly scampered away. Dean laughed, "Today was still quite eventful." He cracked his fist. He was soon grappled by the bartender, who lifted and dragged Dean outside the bar. Sam was about to follow but soon received a message notification on his phone. He turned it on and paced around the bar, carefully stepping over the beaten men who were groaning in pain. He placed his left hand over his ear to dampen the sound of the fight outside while reading the message. He stopped and sighed as the noise died down. Dean walked in, completely unharmed and unfazed, dragging the battered and bloodied body of the bartender. He took a look at Sam's face and he immediately understood. A real problem was knocking on the door. One he had been avoiding for quite a whileVivian’s POVIt was just another night in Crescent Gold Hospital. Vivian was doing her rounds, checking the patient logs to ensure that everybody was getting the right treatments and medications, making sure everybody in her ward who was in critical condition remained stable. It was her job as a junior doctor. She had been working here for the last two years, and it was beginning to feel like a second home to her. She had basically grown up here; every nurse and doctor above the age of fifty had known her since she was a child. This was because the hospital served as a front of sorts for a good number of werewolf packs. While werewolves had quick regeneration for many injuries, some were harder and took longer to heal, and in some situations, some werewolves simply needed to heal faster to return to the frontline of any battle they were in.The pack with the closest ties to the hospital? The Shadow Rock pack, which happened to be the pack her father was currently leading as the Alpha
"When in doubt, trust your instincts; you have the blood of a Lycan flowing through your veins. Your instincts will never lead you astray," Dean's mother always said. For the past decade, he had followed his instincts everywhere they led him and still, he had no answer to the question that summed up his entire existence. Dean knew deep down that his mother wouldn't have wanted this life for him, but a werewolf's emotions, as well as their senses, are heightened. Her blood called out to him for justice, and he made it his mission to appease her cries and allow her soul to rest in peace."Just a while longer, Mother," Dean thought as he sat in his favorite café waiting for Sam."Gloomy as usual," Matt, the owner, spoke as he gave Dean a cup of coffee. Dean sighed, then smiled as he looked at the cup. He reached into his pocket to pay, but Matt waved his hand to deter him."Come on, Matt, at some point you have to let me pay for this great coffee. I feel bad that you always give it to me
Vivian headed back into the hospital ward, Ty had just left to go continue his training. He was a guy really dedicated to his craft, he spent a good amount of his time trying to hone his craft, practising as much as he could while still trying to balance out the less practical aspects of fighting like strategies and tactics.“He really would make a good Alpha.” She thought to herself as she signed herself back in. As she was changing back into her scrubs, she thought back to the conversation she just had with Ty. The selection process for the next wolves that would have to compete for the position of Alpha had basically begun. Normally an Alpha would be selected by one of two ways. Either by heritage, which would involve the eldest son of the Alpha taking up the role of Alpha from his father which unfortunately does not apply in this situation as her father, the now Alpha of the pack, had only one kid and she was definitely not male. The second way and a surprisingly just as common w
Ty’s POVThe night air seemed ever so cool and, in some way, carried the promise of a beautiful tomorrow, at least to a regular human, werewolves of the shadow rock pack however embraced a different reality, they undeniably understood that for the foreseeable future the only easy day would be yesterday. While this outlook on life might seem cynical in nature, it was the truth.The entire pack had just watched their Alpha fight off a group of would-be usurpers try to take his position in the pack, it was a sight that was burned into the back of their minds. The laws of the pack clearly state that if any pack member fancies himself strong enough, they are to challenge the current Alpha to a duel wherein the leadership of the pack is at stake and falls to the winner of the duel. However, that was not the case tonight, the rest of the pack had to watch as their Alpha battled off seven werewolves. The majority of them present had never seen such a display of power from their Alpha or any
Dean’s POV"I hope you picked your words carefully, Whitehall. Because they will be your last," Sam boldly stated in full defiance of the elder Whitehall's opinions.In the world of the Lycans, respect is earned by the show of strength. To look an elder in the eye is to rescind the respect owed to such an elder, hence a show of confidence in your ability to overpower him in battle.“A challenge, I see.” Whitehall grinned as his pupils constricted, as if to murder Sam with his glare alone. “Too bad you won’t live to regret this show of stupidity, feral pup,” he added, ready to put Sam in his place.“Are you both done disrespecting the council?” Dean began with his eyes closed while slowly tapping his finger on the table. “If so, I suggest you retract your fangs and we proceed as civil men.” Dean stopped tapping abruptly, and his eyes opened with a fierce glare. The aura exuded by Dean, what werewolves call the ‘true scent of an Alpha,’ gripped both Whitehall and Sam into submission. B
Vivian’s POVAfter the ordeal with her father and seeing him in such a defeated state, the urgency of the whole situation dawned on her heavily. They both knew she had limited time together, and the battle at Shadow Rock had heavily affected her father’s timeline. It was now more important than ever to start preparing for a new Alpha so the clan would not be exposed and left leaderless after her father’s passing. She wished they could just give it to Ty and move on, but laws are laws, and they had to undertake the trials. She had just left the hospital as her father was still recuperating. She had not had a good rest in a while, and with what just happened this morning, she doubted she would be able to fall asleep. Sarah was waiting for her outside.“How is he holding up?” Sarah asked.“He is strong. He will recover from this, but his time is really limited, and this stunt he pulled off to display strength definitely did no favors to his health,” Vivian responded.“Yeah, but you have
The emotions of werewolves are extremely heightened depending on the situation surrounding them, especially due to the effect of their animal instincts. This is particularly difficult for new sires to manage because of the sudden change in lifestyle they are thrown into. Dean capitalized on this as he and his followers chased after the whimpering new sires. The remaining six were struggling to escape, but any turn they tried to take was cut off by a member or two from Dean’s hunting team. Fear coursed through their veins as they thought of impending death. They ran hopelessly, bumping into one another and pissing themselves, until they saw Dean at the final exit point, standing casually and waiting for them. They stopped abruptly and soon realized they were completely surrounded by Dean’s hunting party.“What a brilliant idea to run away. I’m sure no one has ever thought of that before,” Dean spoke sarcastically, maintaining a sly grin. A murmur of deep voices, accompanied by low gro
Sam insisted on driving the truck towards the pack hideout, despite just leaving the hospital. Dean didn’t argue because he knew that once Sam set his mind on something, it was very difficult to change it. This was coupled with the fact that Dean felt slightly embarrassed for keeping his guard up in the hospital. The reception was extremely warm, and the professionalism shown was unlike any other hospital he had been to where they treated werewolves. He also saw several werewolves from different and rival packs being treated, making Crescent Gold hospital more of a neutral ground.As Sam inched closer to the pack, Dean’s demeanor became colder. He always found that he lacked a certain enthusiasm whenever he saw the lights of the base from afar. It wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time, he’d have his head out of the car window, howling and screaming as soon as the same lights, which he now looked upon with disdain, came into view. He was much happier back in the day, a perfect kid
The moon cast a menacing glare over the surrounding woodland. The two Alphas maintained their battle stances as the air grew thin with tension. Dean snarled with a mix of anguish and defiance, his eyes beaming with courage despite his wounded situation. Blood dripped slowly and his left hand stung with every movement, but it didn't matter. This was his final hurdle, and he knew he had no choice but to win.The Red Claw Alpha scoffed at Dean's bravado. If glares could kill, then the piercing glow of his eyes would have done the trick. He let out a low, rumbling growl. "Let no one interfere in this," he ordered as he walked closer to Dean. They began circling each other, looking for the slightest opening before they attacked. They had their claws out and their fangs extended, as if testing each other's powers first. They held back their full transformations, but only barely. It is harder to hold the beast within when faced with a worthy opponent, is the famous saying among the werewolf
Dean's POVDean looked at the horror in everyone's eyes. Blood had been spilled in their hideout, their great stronghold that wasn't known to the outside world. Two strangers were present, one of whom was dead, as such he could not really fault them for their behaviour. Dean noticed the Alpha standing protectively in front of a woman and her child. This confirmed that she was the Luna of the Red Claw pack. The Alpha stood at 6'4" with a lean, athletic build. His dark hair was perpetually tousled, coupled with a chiseled face and a sharp jawline. He didn't look much older than Dean, and his aura made it clear he wasn't someone who could be taken down easily. Dean's eyes soon moved to the young werewolf beside the Alpha who was hugging his mother. The child's eyes were filled with fear but tinged with relief. Dean was glad. He had prevented his situation from recurring. "No one should have to go through what I have gone through. Especially not a child who was brave enough to defend his
TY’s POVThe gunshot blasted, and Ty launched forward, muscles coiled like springs. The dense forest ahead was a blur of greens and browns, but his keen eyes picked out the narrowest paths. He left everyone behind in his dust, he was gone like the wind. Branches clawed at him as he sprinted, their sharp edges barely grazing his skin. He darted between trees, each movement fluid and precise, his powerful legs propelling him over tangled roots and fallen logs. His heightened senses picked up every nuance of the forest, the rustle of leaves, the scent of pine and earth, the distance call of a bird. He relied on these senses to navigate the underbrush, making split-second decisions to avoid the worst of the obstacles. A particularly low branch loomed ahead, and he dropped into a crouch, sliding beneath it with inches to spare.The ground rose suddenly, turning into a rocky incline. Ty’s claws extended instinctively, digging into the soil and stone for purchase. He climbed with a ferocity
Vivian POVGyrich had started giving the breakdown of the next stage to the contestants gathered round the open square. They had greatly reduced in numbers. There was an allowance for 30 contestants to make it to the next stage but only about 18 had made it. That probably had something to do with the fact that Ty had ended the first stage with 10 of the 30 available medallions and some people had not ended up finding any in the first place. Ty’s stunts of attaining multiple medallions, while not being frowned upon and was allowed by the rules, still came as a pleasant shock to most of the watchers. No one ever had the foresight or even the gall to attempt to put such a huge target on their backs, but Ty had done it without a second’s thought. He instantly became a fan favourite to win the tournament within the monitoring room.“The second stage will have four different sections. The first section is the Forest Sprint” Gyrich was explaining.They had finally agreed on what the obstacle
Ty PovHe had just finished the first stage. He had gotten off to a rough start but he definitely finished well. 30 medallions had been found by the end of the stage, Ty had found 10 of them. A part of him had hoped he would come across Damien at some point in time during the first stage so he could test his fists against his and maybe even eliminate him early on. But asides from some skirmishes here and there, Ty didn’t really encounter any challengers, they were just enough to get his muscles pumped. He went off to find Rick.Rick had been shocked when after Ty had gotten the second medallion and given it to him, he still insisted they stay on the move, hunting other medallions and other medallion holders. He had thought it was sufficient having their own medallions and that they should just hide out until the time elapse, but Ty was not having it. Under no circumstance was he going to spend the rest of the stage hiding behind a rock. He had to use this opportunity under less stress
Vivian PovTensions were high in the viewing center as they tried their best to monitor the situation closely. They were looking for hidden talents, trying to grade contestants, and making sure nobody was breaking any rules. They had ultimately made some changes to the rules in place for this stage. For one, they had changed it to a timed event due to another twist Adeyemi had thought of. They had also changed it from teams of four to allow for naturally occurring teams; while it was hard to work together with people when stuck in a situation with them, it was considered even harder to gather a group of people you could trust and organize them well enough in a short period of time. For this reason, they removed the teams stipulation and just allowed naturally occurring team-ups.She had her eyes mainly on Ty. He was making progress through the first stage in a slow but determined way. She wasn’t shocked in the least bit when he had taken a younger contestant under his wings; it was ju
Ty POVTy and Rick were camping under a palm tree, the stretch of its leaves provided sufficient shade and there was a steady flow of breeze coming in from the direction of the river. They had been moving around for little over an hour now. They still had not found any clues that could hint at where the medallions could be. They had tried reasoning through the situation to see if there were any clues included in their original instructions and the description of the test but they could not find any.“It cannot simply just be a test of luck” Rick had reasoned. “Could it? Cause at it stands right now, getting a medallion will simply require a stroke of luck and that’s definitely not a good test to determine the next Alpha.” “It just could be. No part of the rule states that you can’t take someone else’s medallion. These tests are built to be very complex and allow for multiple skills to shine through.” Ty had replied.” But I agree with you, I do not believe it’s a simple case of just s
Dean crouched in the dimly lit chimney, his breaths shallow and controlled. The muffled sounds of the guards outside grew fainter, replaced by the quiet hum of the hideout's interior. He wiped the sweat from his brow, the scent of smoke and ash mingling with Abraham's blood on his hands. He scanned the room, noting the rustic furniture and the flickering shadows cast by a lone lantern. The hearth, made of large, rough-hewn stones, dominated the room's center. Thick wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, giving the space a rugged, timeless feel. The walls were lined with mounted sculpted heads of what he presumed to be past Alphas of the pack."A bit too exotic," Dean thought, noting that he had very little time to sit and admire the decor of history within the Red Claw's hideout. He lifted his nose to sniff around, picking up the odd scent he had been trailing at least two floors above. This meant the mysterious man was already inside. Dean knew that once the guards found Abraham, the
"He was a tough one, but no one is greater than the Red Claw pack," Jahar mentioned while panting. He hadn't expected his opponent to give him such trouble. He soon fell on his back to catch his breath. His eyes scanned the surrounding and saw the relative damage done. He soon took on a worried look as though the fight felt nostalgic."What's done is done, and it's going to be on the news tomorrow. No point in worrying about it," Abraham spoke while returning to his human self. He seemed to have had negligible injuries on his body. He was huge, tall, and had a muscular build, with a thick beard and hairy, large arms. He bent a knee to carry Dean on his back while Jahar walked closer to the car."The car is damaged. This is going to cost quite a bit." Jahar palmed his face but felt a sharp sting of pain in his arms, causing him to drop them slowly."You are in quite the amount of pain Jahar. This is why I always suggest to you more training" Abraham spoke with a slight mockery filling