Hello, everybody! Here's a new story for you all to read. Honestly, it was just an idea that popped into my head and refused to go away. As such, I just had to put it down. Because of that, I pulled a literal all-nighter to get this first chapter written.

Also, sorry if the title sounds bad. I honestly have no idea what to call this yet, so I figured "Waning Beacons" would fit. You know, waning in reference to the moon and Beacons for the town. That and I was going for the definition of "dying hope". That honestly was my original title, but it sounded way too cheesy. At least "Waning Beacons" sounds more original, right? ...Right?

Now I know what some of you are probably thinking. Why did I spend the entire night writing a first chapter that has no more more than about two-and-a-half pages? Well, the reason is because I had wanted it to be a prologue of sorts. However, my idea for the prologue only extended to about a page-and-a-half. That's not enough to even constitute a prologue! As such, I decided to meld a bit of my first chapter into this prologue, thus creating an individual chapter that is hardly the amount I usually write.

However, I did try my best to make it sound captivating enough that what little I have for this first chapter should be enough to at least pique your interests. I hope it at least did that. So yeah, I do hope you enjoy it. I'll try to have a consistent update schedule with this, preferably an update once a week. I do need to practice being consistent with my postings, so I'll start with this. And as you can see, the chapters don't have their own titles this time. With what I have in mind, I think putting chapter names for this story would be inappropriate.

With that said, I'll leave you all to start reading now!

Chapter 1

"Didn't you get all the info you needed from your investigation?" a man exclaimed as he sat on a metal chair. His clothes were dirty and haggard, splotches of rust brown spots clear on his light blue shirt and jeans. His hair was disheveled despite the short cut making such a sight supposedly impossible, the sight only accentuating the exhaustion clear on his face. "You said I wouldn't be interrogated!"

He was in what he assumed to be an interrogation room; the interior decorated with only a metal table that he sat behind. There was a device that looked like a recorder on it, the red light blinking in anticipation of being used. Across from him stood a man dressed in a black suit, the only light in the room strategically placed behind him to blur his face. Behind him was a mirror he strongly suspected was one-way. There was also another chair in front of the mystery man, though he was right now leaning against it.

However, he cared little about where he was and the man's identity. All he wanted was to be out of here where a hot shower, a potential plate of curly fries, and an inviting bed waited for him. After all he suffered through a few nights ago, he deserved that much!

"I said you might not be interrogated, sir," the suited man accentuated as he crossed his arms. "Do understand that recent events have proven disadvantageous to our efforts. We may have numerous tools at our disposal, but we lack the proper places to search. As of now, our pool of evidence is…beyond less than ideal."

"And whose fault is that? Certainly not mine!"

"Again, I'm sorry for the inconvenience," the man said, his tone hardly reflecting regret. "I'll admit that we did manage to recover some evidence thanks in part to the other victims we rescued. Still, their stories don't exactly correlate with what we found. We were hoping you'd be able to shed some light on this. After all, one of the officers said you and your friend might know more about the incident."

"So now you're roping him into this?" the interrogated hostilely asked.

"He's already agreed to cooperate. I'm only asking that you do the same. We already know from initial statements you two have been together during the bulk of this experience. If you can tell us what you remember seeing, we might come close to giving you and the victims something akin to justice. We'll be stuck where we are, though, if you refuse to talk. I know you're an officer of the law; I'm sure you can appreciate how important having these talks can be."

For a moment, the disheveled man stayed quiet. The suited man's plea for him to tell his story was hardly passionate. Still, his insistence did strike a chord in him. While he hated to admit it, the logic was enough to override the part of his brain telling him to never again think about what he saw and heard.

"…For the record, I was only on the clock for a day," he finally said. By his answer, it was clear he still wanted to maintain some semblance of control. "Less than that, actually. That hardly qualifies me as having been an officer of the law. But whatever; I'll tell you everything I know.

"But I'll only talk if he's in here with me!" he quickly added. The interrogator kept stoic, already knowing who he was referring to. "I'm sure my version will have some gaps in it. He's the only one who can fill them in. That and parts of our experience is the same thing. Believe me when I say you'll save both time and money by putting us together. Just don't expect to save anything on your car insurance."

"Done," the suited man replied, actually chuckling a bit at the weak joke.

"Wha- Just like that?"

"Just like that," the interrogator repeated as he finally sat down. "You'll be retelling your story alongside your friend."

"Well, that was suspiciously easy."

"You're talking to the one who has authority to entertain your conditions. I don't think you have much to be surprised about.

"However, it will be a bit before he can come. We're still running his credentials."

"Figures," the interrogated scoffed as he rolled his eyes. "Do you guys have to be so suspicious about everyone?"

"Since we're classifying what you went through as an act of terrorism, yes. As such," the suited man said as he pressed a button on the recorder, "I'd like for you to start without him."

"Gee, you really are a stereotypical government agent. Okay, let's talk. What do you wanna know?"

"Your name, for starters; and how you got into this mess," the agent suggested as he leaned against the table.

"Fine. The name's Stiles Stilinski – you have my file, so I'm not giving you my real first name! I was driving back home the day after I graduated from the Police Academy…"

-Three days ago-

"Thank you for calling the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department. Sorry for missing your call; I'm currently out of the office. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." The familiar obnoxious beep of an answering machine echoed in the jeep.

"Hey, dad; it's me again," Stiles greeted, his tone slightly weary. The light from his phone was barely enough to pierce through the night as he drove down the quiet street. "I know you're the sheriff and all that jazz; but how many crimes are they making you respond to today? This is literally the fifth time I've called! You've got to have this number connect to the other phones in the station when you're out. Either that or think about investing in a cell phone! If you're ignoring my calls on purpose, I swear I'm gonna make the rest of your eating days a living health hell!

"But yeah, just calling to say I'm almost home," he continued after a moment's pause. He blinked rapidly a couple times after a passing car with its high beams on flew past him. "Of course, that's provided that idiotic drivers turn off their damned high beams! I mean, are they seriously so blind that they can't see in the dark? What're they doing driving at this hour then? And what's with them speeding like they're at the Daytona 500? They're just asking to start an accident!

"Sorry; rambling again," he groaned. "It's been a long road trip. Anyway, I should be in town within the next fifteen minutes. I'll probably stop at the diner before coming home, so no need to worry if I'm not there. But if you're this busy, you'll probably just pull an all-nighter at the office. Boy, aren't you glad I graduated from the Police Academy yesterday? Now we can share some of the workload! I'll see you soon, maybe even later tonight if we're lucky!"

Stiles ended the call by poking at his phone resting on its console dock. The light then became brighter as it exited to the main apps screen. It better illuminated the car, shining against the walls and through the spotless windows. It did nothing to showcase whatever he drove by; but it gave some comfort to know people could not possibly miss both the headlights and the bright light coming from his phone. After all, anything can happen when you're driving down what looks to be an empty road at night, right?

"Should I call Scott?" he wondered aloud as he drove passed yet another car trying out for the races. "Eh, he'll figure it out tomorrow. Besides, he's probably busy slaving away at Deaton's. Who am I to tear him from that?" he added with a sadistic smile.

A small group of cars suddenly whizzed towards him. Most did not have their lights on; he only noticed them when the lead car had a bright enough light coming from inside. He had to do a hard stop so as to avoid crashing into one he barely caught driving in his path. It thankfully swerved away, but the driver failed to slow down.

"Alright; what's going on?!" Stiles exclaimed as he turned around to look at the group of cars continuing to speed away. "Is there a tryout for an actual Need for Speed street race going on? Even the racers in the movies weren't crazy enough to drive at night without headlights! I need to report this to dad when I see him.

"Sorry about that, Roscoe," he apologized while lovingly patting the console. "I didn't mean to stress your brakes like that. Hopefully, we won't run into that again."

With a frustrated groan, Stiles put the car back into gear and continued on his way home. Thankfully, the rest of the trip was devoid of anymore near-death experiences. With any luck, he would be able to make it to the town diner before it closed. If there was one thing he missed, it was eating curly fries at his favorite diner. He could already feel his mouth pooling with drool at the thought, and he sped up a bit in hopes of getting there faster.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this new story. Originally, there was a lot more in this ending author's note, but I accidentally pressed backspace without knowing I clicked outside of the typing screen. As a result, ten minutes worth of my own thoughts got deleted. As such, I'll go for the less detailed cliff notes.

My knowledge of the characters comes mainly from the various Teen Wolf fanfiction I've been reading for the past year. I've only started watching the series in the past week, so most of my characters' attitudes will be based off of the various fanfiction I've read. However, I've noticed that most writers write each character with certain quirks that never change. For example, Stiles likes to ramble and often uses run-on sentences. He also likes to quote moments from movies and video games when he's nervous. Case in point, his "weak joke" from earlier was based off the Geico commercial; saving you both time and money. It'll be hard to do his character in particular because he often employs the use of run-on sentences, something that I have been trained as a fiction writer to avoid doing.

And yes, that was the cliff notes version of what I said. I know it seems long, but it was definitely a lot longer and more detailed. Like I said, I pulled an all-nighter to do this, and I'm silently pissed at having my thoughts disappear in just one second. It's six in the morning, and I want to sleep for three hours now.

But yeah, I do thank you for taking the time to read this new story. Please leave a review telling me what you thought about it. I know it's probably not much to say, but even your feelings on how you thought the beginning started will be good. As long as it's constructive criticism, as in a review that points out your opinions on certain moments of the story or the writing itself, I'm happy.

Thanks again for your time, and I hope to see some of you back in my new chapter.