So, this is an AU with no werewolves, but its not exactly and All-Human AU, if that makes any sense. This is basically the plot of the television show Heroes, but with the characters from Teen Wolf. Each character that has a major role to play will have their own multi-chapter story that's part of a bigger universe. Note that, if you remain interested, that the stories need to be read in order of the update to make sense. I've set it up like comics. What happens in one story will have an effect on what happens in another, even if its just cameos from other characters.

Also, I'll be dropping hints so pay attention.

In The Mirror

The strobe lights flashed and pulsed while the music thrummed through the multitude of bodies packed onto the dance floor. On various podiums dotted through the club, as well as in cages hanging from the ceiling, there were men dancing. Most of them were in skimpy underwear but some wore themed costumes, such as sailor or cowboy. You get the idea. A club filled with dancing male-model types and plenty of shirtless young hunks on the dance floor, as well as a few drag queens should enlighten you.

Welcome to The Jungle.

Ethan Correa danced to the beat, his body swaying back and forth, his muscles accentuated by the swirls and splashes of fluorescent pink paint. The paint and his white briefs glowed in the dim of the club, brought out by the ultraviolet lights set up in various locations. Moving down the bar, he squatted in front of a patron beckoning him and got a five-dollar-bill shoved into his briefs while a shot of vodka was raised to his lips. Downing the burning liquor, he smiled and gave the shot glass back before sliding down on his knees, allowing another customer to put some more money in his briefs. The entire time, even when he was smiling, those big brown eyes of his were scanning the faces of the club's patrons, searching for one person in particular.

This is pretty much how his night has gone. And the night before that. And the week before that. You get the idea. Most guys would have the time of their life dancing on a bar in their underwear, having other men shove money down their pants and buy them drinks. But to Ethan it was just a job. He had fun sometimes, but mostly it was just a way to pay bills and try to slowly climb out of debt. Especially on nights like this. He was just one of the gogo boys dancing around, not one of the main attractions on the stage that took up a nice chunk of the floor. The nights he actually got to put on a show were so much more satisfying than just shaking his groove thang on the bar. This wasn't Coyote Ugly.

An hour later saw Ethan in the changing room for the dancers, sitting before a mirror and wiping the glitter and guy-liner from his face, the body paint already taken care of, a stack of crumpled bills sitting before him.

"Good night?" Ethan looked over and saw another dancer, Jonas was his name, sitting down at his own little table and counting out his money.

"It was alright." Ethan responded, wiping the rest of the make-up and glitter away. "Pays the bills at least."

"I hear that." Jonas laughed as Ethan got up and grabbed his street clothes from the locker beneath his "work station." Shamelessly, as most of the dancers had seen each other nude plenty of times, Ethan stripped out of his work briefs and pulled on his more comfortable Calvin Klein boxer briefs, shortly followed by a pair of jeans worn so many times the denim was soft and comfortable. A white v-neck covered his bare torso before he sat back down to pull on his socks and sneakers. "You done for the night?" Jonas asked as he glanced over and saw Ethan getting dressed.

"Yeah." Ethan responded as he laced up his shoe. "Early night tonight and rehearsal tomorrow morning. I'm on the stage tomorrow night. Gotta get ready."

"Nice." Jonas nodded before going back to counting his money. Ethan stood up and slid on his leather jacket and placed his earnings for the night within the jacket's internal pocket. "See ya 'round." Jonas said, not looking up from his money as Ethan walked behind him toward the exit. Ethan, however, paused behind Jonas, having seen something in the mirror, like his reflection had paused a bit too long when he'd walked past. Frowning, Ethan gazed at his reflection for a second or two before continuing on his way.

"Later." Ethan commented absent-mindedly before descending the stairs to the dancer's entrance/exit. Wishing the bouncer good night, Ethan tuned down the alley and made his way through the streets of West Hollywood to his tiny apartment, ear-buds plugged in and the pulsing sounds of the Bloody Beetroots playing. Above him, as the clouds parted, one would be able to see the full moon looming over Los Angeles, bright and clear despite the hundreds of thousands of lights and the dense layer of smog. As Ethan walked, oblivious to the world around him, a shadow began to cross over the silvery façade of the moon, painting her face a bloody red. A lunar eclipse. A blood moon, only happened four times a year, and no one could ever predict whether it would block out the light altogether or paint the Earth's only natural satellite the color of blood. All across the country, people were gazing skyward to watch the event, but Ethan continued on, completely unawares, locked in his own head worrying about the problems his life had run into recently.

The troubled young stripper was broken out of his reverie when he got off the elevator on his floor. Currently, he was the only tenant on his floor, which he was fine with. He took his clothes off for a living, so he liked his privacy. That's why he now wore a confused look on his face. His landlord hadn't called to say he was stopping by for any reason and Ethan wasn't expecting any guests. Not to be depressing, but Ethan didn't really have any friends at the moment. Especially after the accident.

Music now shut off, Ethan cautiously crept forward, trying to keep his steps light so as not to make a sound, iPhone and headphones returning to their place in his jacket. At the end of the hall where his apartment was, his front door was hanging open, the door frame splintered as if someone had kicked the door in. Now, I know what you're all thinking. Why doesn't he just call the police right away? Honestly, Ethan wasn't even thinking about that. What he was thinking about was whether or not he'd just been robbed and trying to think what he kept in his apartment that someone would want to take.

Pushing the front door open even further, slowly so as not to alert anyone that might still be inside, Ethan entered his apartment, taking in the overturned couch and trashed living room. It looked like a horde of five-year-olds had torn through his place, destroying everything. Stepping over the ruins of his coffee table, he looked down the hall toward the bedrooms, he saw equally disturbed areas through the open doors. Hearing something in the direction of his kitchen, Ethan turned, slowly like how people do in horror movies when they don't really want to see what's behind them. Standing there in Ethan's kitchen was a tall, broad man, easily twice Ethan's size, rooting through his pantry and stuffing his face with a bag of chips. As quietly as possible, so as not to alert the man to his presence, Ethan made his way back to the front door, making a dash once he was close enough, only to have another guy grab him from behind, his hand a vice around Ethan's neck.

"Welcome home Ethan." the man who grabbed him growled, some greasy slime ball with too long hair, a face in good need of a shave and a jacket that needed some serious tailoring to cover the gun in its holster. The other an exited the kitchen at a leisurely pace, still munching on the chips. Ethan was dragged through the apartment, back the hallway and toward the bedroom before was shoved unceremoniously onto his unmade bed.

"Mr. Deucalion wants to be nice about this." The guy who grabbed him said as he dragged a chair from across the floor and turned it to face the bed, sitting down and staring down Ethan, the big guy moving silently behind him. "But fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money."

"Fifty?" Ethan asked loudly. "It was thirty. Even with interest - "

"Like I said." The mouthpiece interrupted him. "Mr. Deucalion wants to be nice. That's why he sent us." The slime ball smirked, his eyes roving over Ethan's fit frame. "He figured someone who had..." He licked his lips. "... similar interests might be able to help you come up with the money you owe him." The tall giant smirked as well while the Mouthpiece settled into the chair in a more comfortable position. "I mean, you make your living by taking your clothes off for other guys. And rumor has it you do private shows." Ethan scowled. "So, you earn what? Fifty dollars for every half an hour you take off you clothes? Why don't we give you a chance to lessen your debt a little." Ethan didn't even attempt to keep the look of disgust off of his face.

Behind the Mouthpiece, the giant picked up Ethan's video camera from his desk and turned it on, training the picture on the young man's scowl.

"Come on." Mouthpiece spoke. "Let's get this party started." Pushing his thoughts of disgust to the back of his mind, Ethan violently took his jacket off and flung it to the side, away from the thugs, hoping they wouldn't notice the money he'd earned tonight. "That's right." Mouthpiece sighed, tongue darting out between lips before retreating again. "Lets see those abs."

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Ethan let it out slowly before he reached down for the hem of his shirt. He fell back onto routine and pulled it upward slowly, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tawny skin and muscles that looked like they were carved. Mouthpiece held up a hand, indicating he wanted Ethan to stop, so the stripper left the shirt bunched up under his armpits, revealing the long, clean lines of his hard-earned torso. Once again, lips were licked and hands were waved, allowing Ethan to return to his strip show. Leaving his shirt alone, Ethan let his hands travel down through the valley of his abs to his belt buckle, undoing it easily with deft and nimble fingers. With the belt open and out-of-the-way, Ethan slowly, and sensuously popped open the buttons of the fly, revealing the blue cotton of his boxer-briefs.

Pausing for dramatic effect, Ethan glanced away from the thugs and caught the eye of his reflection in the mirror hanging on his closet door. That's when he paused completely. The reflection staring back at him wasn't him. Physically, yes, it was Ethan but the expression wasn't anything that Ethan ever wore. It was a haughty look, looking at it's doppelganger like it was a pathetic worm beneath his shoe. It was a look of disappointment.

"Come on, baby boy." Mouthpiece spoke up, noting the sudden lack of movement. "It was just starting to get good here." Ethan's gaze swiveled back to the piece of scum sitting in his bedroom, now hardened and resolute. The scum stood up and backhanded the young stripper to regain his attention.

"Screw you." Ethan ground out, a small trace of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Screw me." Mouthpiece spoke, a look of rage covering his face. "Screw you." A fist coming toward his face was the last thing Ethan saw before his world went black.

- IN THE MIRROR -

Ringing.

That's what roused Ethan from a very deep and comfortable sleep. An annoying, constant ringing. It would pause every moment or so before starting up again. It took Ethan's brain a moment to process that what he was hearing was his phone ringing. Eyes still closed because of the bright sunlight pouring in through his window, he reached across his bed for his phone. Instead of his iPhone, his hand came into contact with something sticky. Something liquid. Groggily, almost as if he had a hangover or had gotten into a fight, Ethan forced his eyes open. The world that swam before his gaze was blurry and moving but after a moment or two, everything righted itself and became clearer.

Ethan wished it hadn't.

Sitting up abruptly, Ethan's head whipped from side to side, trying to take in all the details even while his brain was trying to reject what it was seeing. There was blood staining the walls and more damage done to his desk and the actual frame of the bed, if the way the mattress was dipping dramatically was anything to go on. But what was most disturbing was the two thugs that had assaulted him earlier... or, at least, what was left of them. Mouthpiece was still, mostly, in one piece. One arm dangled loosely from its socket, whatever ligaments or muscle that was holding it there invisible beneath the blood-stained leather jacket. His shirt had been ripped open and the flesh beneath was mutilated and bloody, like raw hamburger. The finishing touch was the giant mirror shard sticking out of his neck.

The other thug, tall, big and silent, was literally in pieces. His arm lay at the foot of the bed while one of his legs from the knee down was tangled in Ethan's bedroom curtain. The man's head was sitting on Ethan's dresser, staring at the young man with dead eyes, while the main bulk of his body lay near the bedroom door, torn in half. No, literally torn in half. His upper body lay just outside the bedroom, as if he'd been trying to crawl away, while his lower half was closer to Mouthpiece's body, his viscera and internal organs strewn out between the two pieces.

Ethan couldn't stop looking, even as he felt the bile rose in his throat, threatening to dirty the room even more. Tearing his eyes away from the grizzly sight, he looked down and noticed for the first time that he was completely clean, his white shirt still pristine and his jeans still comfortable and clear of any blood. With the level of carnage in the room, one would think some of the blood spatter would have hit him, but here he sat, fresh as a daisy.

As he was checking himself, making sure he wasn't injured, he noticed the camera that had recorded his earlier degradation sitting near him on the bed, the red light still on, indicating it was still recording. Quick as a viper, Ethan snatched it up and shut off the record button, getting ready to rewind and see what had happened in here. Before he could, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He jumped, startled by the thought of someone else being in the room with him. Looking around, his eyes landed on the mirror hanging on his closet door, now cracked and shattered in places, the large chunk missing from the top looking suspiciously like the piece in Mouthpiece's neck.

But what really captured his attention was his reflection. Where Ethan was clean and unsullied, his reflection was spattered in blood, the crimson liquid contrasting violently against the white t-shirt and making his reflection look like a barbarian just off of the battle field with the spatters on his face and arms. Ethan watched in horror, as his fractured reflection raised a hand to his lips, which were curved into a bemused smirk and put a finger to his lips.

Ethan ran.

Please let me know what you think. I'll hopefully have Scott's up in the next day or so.