Wolves Don't Wear Masks
A Teen Wolf/Arrow crossover. For Jay on her birthday.
-x-
"Take my advice," growled the hero. "Wear a mask." Without another word, he jumped into the air and spun head-over-heels before disappearing behind the edge of the roof. A single arrow shot upward towards the next building, trailing a thin black cord. A minute after the arrow had anchored itself in the brick wall, the hero appeared once more, climbing slowly hand over hand towards the nearest window.
The boys watched in silence for several minutes as the man inched his way upwards. "What are the chances that window's locked?" asked Stiles, and was answered by the distant smash of breaking glass.
Satisfied that their new friend wasn't about to fall to his death, the two turned in unison from the roof's edge.
"Wear a mask?" scoffed Scott. "He does realize that turning into a wolf means that my entire face changes, right?"
"To be fair, your hair is still ridiculously recognizable," responded Stiles. "There's just about twice as much of it when you wolf out. I wonder what would happen if you got a haircut as a wolf."
Scott wordlessly skipped out of reach, as though he half-expected Stiles to attempt an experiment without further delay. Stiles rolled his eyes and reached for the doorknob. It didn't turn.
"Really?" he cried, throwing both hands in the air in exasperation. "Given how many masked vigilantes are running around on the rooftops in this city, you'd think more roof-access doors would remain unlocked."
Scott threw his shoulder against the door, buckling the metal and successfully popping the lock open. With a grin, he stepped inside the building. "Because a locked door doesn't stop anyone in this city who's looking to get in?"
"Sure," sighed Stiles. "Now, I hate to break it to you - but we just lost our best lead to finding Isaac."
"Actually, I think we're good." Scott jumped down the stairwell, passing five flights of steps in a matter of seconds. Stiles made a face and started walking down the normal, human way. From down below, Scott yelled, "I got his scent - and it's familiar. Hurry up, and we'll go meet him at his house."
-x-
Lydia had grown impatient with waiting in the car; in the time it had taken the boys to run up to the roof, exchange words with the vigilante, and run back down to the street again, she'd done some research of her own.
"You were where?" yelped Stiles.
"Don't give me that look," said Lydia. "I've been to plenty of night clubs before. Verdant was relatively tame compared to some of them, actually. But I did get useful information."
Scott looked up eagerly. "Such as?"
"For one, I don't think Isaac's the only werewolf in town. It sounds like the attacks have been going on for months, and rumours make it sound like a whole gang is involved."
"And Isaac only left Beacon Hills last week," finished Scott thoughtfully. "He must have run into the other werewolves when he came to town. If we can find out where that pack is hiding, we can find Isaac."
"And hopefully convince him to come home with us," added Stiles.
Lydia held up a hand for attention. "The second thing I learned," she said, "is about that guy we met down at the docks when we were sneaking a peek at the crime scene. Name is Oliver Queen, he's the CEO of Queen Consolidated, and his sister runs the night club behind us. I have no idea why he'd be looking into the attack - he wasn't supposed to be there anymore than we were. Might be worth looking into."
Scott and Stiles exchanged a look. Lydia noticed, made a face, and said pointedly, "Spit it out."
"Queen's the vigilante," said Scott in a low voice. "I recognized his scent."
"He claims to know nothing about any werewolf attacks," added Stiles.
"But we're heading to his house now to double-check," finished Scott.
Lydia sighed. "Fine. But here's something you probably didn't figure out from your rooftop encounter: he has a bodyguard and a sidekick. So let's not go rushing in without warning, okay?"
-x-
"I think he's avoiding us," said Scott, having been turned away at the door by the firm and uncooperative Mr. Diggle.
"Time to rush in without warning?" Stiles asked, turning to Lydia.
She sighed. "Fine. But if my nail polish gets chipped, I'm blaming you both."
-x-
It took several minutes, two standoffs, three unnecessary backflips, and one caught arrow before Oliver would consent to sit down and have an actual conversation with Scott. The rest of the group accompanied them: Diggle, Felicity, and Roy standing protectively around their leader, Lydia and Stiles flanking their alpha.
"Trick I learned," explained Scott, passing the arrow back to Oliver before awkwardly taking a seat. "My first girlfriend was really into archery."
"So you learned to catch arrows?" asked Felicity. "That sounds like an awkward date. Not that - I mean -" She smiled uneasily and fell silent.
"Look," said Oliver, turning to the crisis at hand, "I told you the truth when we met on that rooftop. I have no idea where werewolves might be hiding in this city. To tell you the truth, I didn't even know werewolves were a thing until you showed up."
"And that's saying a lot," Felicity added, "Because he's seen just about everything under the sun."
Oliver continued, "But you're right about the deaths at the docks being unusual. We've been trying to track down the gang behind them for weeks without success. Maybe now that you're here, we'll have a shot."
The others exchanged a look. "Deal," said Scott. "We'll find them much faster if we pool our information. Lets start with this morning's crime scene."
-x-
Apparently, he called himself the Wolferine.
"You realize that's a Marvel character, right?" Isaac had asked upon meeting the pack's alpha. "And a misspelling? And that the actual wolverine animal is a type of weasel or something? I'm just saying you could do better."
"Nobody can do better than the Wolferine!" had been the alpha's angry response. Isaac had raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing more; after all, the pack was kind enough to let him hang out in their lair while he figured out where to go next.
Now, however, he was beginning to regret his decision to stay in town so long. This was the third night in a row that the Wolferine had started to whip his pack into a frenzy by shouting insults and threats to some sort of wanna-be vigilante that apparently haunted Starling City. Isaac wasn't big on watching the news, but he'd managed to gather that this hero had made a name for himself by taking down a couple of Wolferine's friends and business associates. And now, apparently, Wolferine was determined to make him pay.
Or so Isaac gathered. He wasn't really paying attention.
This changed rather rapidly once the hideout, known among the pack as the Werehouse (cue eyeroll), came under attack by that very same vigilante. Isaac wasn't particularly interested in taking the hero down, but he couldn't exactly leave his kind in the middle of a fight. He bared his teeth, snarled viciously, and prepared to leap into the fray.
"Isaac!"
It was the call of his alpha that made him stop. Confused, Isaac glanced up to see Scott perched on one of the beams beside the vigilante.
"Really?" asked Isaac, surprise causing him to change back to human form. He shook his head. "Actually, I should have known. If anyone would team up with a superhero, it would be you."
-x-
It was short work to clean up the mess the fight had made of the Werehouse. The Wolferine was snarling but restrained, and would be handed over to the police as soon as they arrived. The vigilante had graciously allowed Scott the task of figuring out what to do with the rest of the pack. The teen had scratched his chin, tipped his head, and asked Oliver if his sister needed any bouncers for her club.
Once that was taken care of, the group sat down on some crates in the back corner to recuperate.
"Please don't run off again, Isaac," said Stiles at one point. "I'm getting tired of tracking you across the country."
The boy shifted uneasily.
"Seriously, Isaac," added Scott, "If you're having that much of an emotional crisis over the fact that Allison moved to France, you could just go visit her there."
"Probably a lot safer than hanging out in this city," added Stiles.
"Plus, she misses you," piped Lydia.
The werewolf looked between the three of them, his shoulders sagging. "I don't… I can't…"
Oliver looked down at the boy with a fond grin. "Take it from me: If you like a girl, don't mess around with it. Don't stay separated. Go be with her, and tell her how you feel."
Isaac sunk even lower into his seat. "No, you don't understand. I can't. I - I don't have a passport."
The three other pack members exchanged an unhappy look. Oliver, on the other hand, merely choked back a laugh. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I know a lot of people who owe me favours. I'm sure I can find a contact who will smuggle you overseas."
-x-
The End