Chapter 1
It was another night shift at the Hole, for some reason the music thumbed too loudly, the flashing lights were too dim- it was like we were in Bruce Wayne's Bat Cave. Not unless, Bruce Wayne intended his Bat Cave to house nauseating, arrogant youths of Trost. No. The club was never this drawling to serve.
There was a time I couldn't wait for my shift to start: free drinks, hot available guys whose dream was to be nailed by a hot bartender; yeah. It was originally a club for the growing gay community. Somehow it became a den for girls to escape to when they wanted a night to dance without being dry humped by a creep. That was all good and dandy- we have a few drag queens. They enjoy girl talk with a girl who didn't have a dick, trading secrets of cosmetics and fashion, flashing each other's bras, examining each other asses. It's all in good fun. Shit, they even taught me a few tricks, like how to hide the shadows under my eyes with cover stick- which looks surprisingly a lot like lip stick. Girls and their tricks.
This was before their homophobic, truly heterosexual, macho douche boyfriends started to file in along with them. They learn to keep the "homo" insult on the down low with our new addition of bouncers located not only outside but inside the club. There was a point when bouncers were only of use for carding little pricks, now they were on standby for brawls and theft.
It was better when it was just us homos and drag queens.
"Hey! Bartender! A drink!" I glanced down the bar and rolled my eyes. Samuel was on – what- his fifth drink already. Kid needed to slow down while he was ahead, especially if he plan to keep his football career going strong.
"Yo! Eren!" Samuel hollered, practically leaning over the wooden bar.
I sighed. "Go home, Sam. Go do your homework. Pretty sure being M.V.P doesn't excuse you from that." I went to the tray of drying cups, grabbed a clean cloth and wiped one around the rim.
"The fuck, I got my shit together, I'm not like you, Eren!" My hands stopped moving. My jaw worked under my skin, grinding my teeth together to alleviate my rage. "I'm not some fucking college dropout working at some shitty lazy ass gay bar with overpriced drinks."
I had two choices: play it off as though I didn't him over the streaming remix of Supernatural or give the bouncers a reason to put those swollen biceps to use. I placed the now sparkling glass jug under the bar, I was attentive to my work if nothing else, untied the apron around my waist as I made down to Samuel. I was unbelievably aware of how constricted the collar of my black tee was, like a boa wringing tightly around my neck.
He looked satisfied with himself, probably figuring I was on my way to serve him personally. I could see his jersey peeking underneath his varsity jacket, green and beige, the colors of Trost University. I remembered the colors, the feel of the fabric against my skin as it accumulated with sweat and dirt, the fans filling the stadium with sound.
There was a time I wore that jersey and if Samuel was half as smart as he thought, he would know I was the only motherfucker who tackled like freight train. I was Trost's best defensive end. My muscles tensed just before I launched over the bar, onto Samuel, taking us both to the floor. My fist connected to his nose when everyone realized there was a fight. I made sure to fuck up his face before my boss hauled me off him.
"Jaeger!" Auruo screeched, veins popping along his neck, eyes ready to bulge out of their socket. "To. My. Office. Now!"
Fuck. I went across the dance floor, the sea of people parting for me like the damn Red Sea; I might actually get fire for this and, for once, I didn't give a shit. One look over my shoulder and I could see Hanz and Samuel's one night stand helping the guy to his feet and ushering him out of the club. Blood oozed down his face like some swamp monster but I wasn't sure from where. Maybe it was his nose, I examined my knuckles as I sat in Auruo's office, they were red and stinging-probably a good indicator that I broke his nose.
It was only a few minutes later that Auruo stormed in, slamming the door in its threshold. He was pacing in front of me, breathing so heavily, I was concerned he would actually collapse on the spot.
"I don't understand you," he muttered, hands clutching at his white curls, practically aging his own face as wrinkles and creases appeared. "Out of all the people here, you have to fuck with the university's M.V.P." He stopped before me, resting his hand on the armrest, leaning over me. "You're lucky that he not going to school about this. His parents could have you serving time."
"The only reason that shit isn't going to tell anyone is because he's fucking underage. He's not gonna risk his football scholarship over me,"
"He's underage and you served him beer?!" Auruo asked, incredulous.
"Your guys card them, I don't, remember? If they're in the bar, it's legal to serve them," I shouldn't have snuggled in my seat with such a smug smile but it made Aurou look even more comical, like watching Daffy Duck ready to lose his shit.
His face fell. "I fuckin hate you."
"It's only cause I can blackmail you with this. You know you love me every other day of the week."
Exasperated, he raised his hands in the air and whirled around, facing his desk. He scrubbed at his face as he took several deep, calming breaths. Finally reclaiming his Zen, he faced me again and wagged a threatening finger at me. "This is your last warning, Eren. I keep you here cause ya a good kid. But you gotta let some of that shit go, or I can't afford the trouble you cause."
The oddest thing happened, my eyes found the portrait of Scarface so damn interesting. It sat framed on his wall above his desk, a classic image of Scarface with his "little friend". You had to wonder what it said about Auruo.
A semi gentle slap to my cheek brought me back to the fact I was getting a lecture, again. Mom. Mikasa. Dad. Armin. New names were being added to that fucking list of "let's talk through Eren's thick ass skull".
"Hey. Get back on your feet. Go back to school or something. Just do more with yourself than this shit."
"Why? You seem to have it all. Maybe I'm waiting for you to bite the dust so I can take over," A crossed my arms over my chest and smiled, though a psychologist might say I'm closing myself off. I gotta give my brain some credit, after all those concussions, I still remembered everything they taught me.
"First, fuck you. I'm not that old," he laughed, finally cracking that disappointed façade he had going on. "Second, consider what I said. Seriously. You're like the son I never wanted. I want you to do well. You don't want to be 50 and servicing college losers like Sam."
"Auruo," I whined, hiding my face. I could feel my check burning up.
"I love you, Eren," he feigned a sniffled as he rubbed at his eyes, pulling a tissue from his pocket. "What could a mother like me do with such a stubborn child? I bought you all those gay pornos. Where did I go wrong?!" Auruo was definitely one for dramatics.
"Eren. Oh! Eren!" He fell to knees, continuing his little act just for the sake of embarrassing me. Auruo warped tightly around my calf, stroking my knee as he rested his chin on my thigh. "OH! How the Gods were generous with your body but forgot to give you a brain. Tist faith is cruel."
I was already prying the old geezer from me. "Alright! Jesus, I'll think about it."
"You will?" he asked, batting his eyelashes at me like some love-struck girl.
My face was already like 50 shades of red by this point. "Yes!"
Like a reverse Jack-in-the-box, he bounced back on his feet, brushing his hair in to place. "Good. Now finish your shift WIHTOUT a single fight."
Needless to say, there was a usual calm that settled over the crowd. It was surprising how one fight could make the rowdiest customer docile as a house cat. A few of my regulars brushed off the incident, not even bothering to cast another glance or muttered hushed phrases to one another. Not to say I make a habit of fighting, I just have a short fuse for entitled assholes. Rick was already standing in for me when I made my way behind the bar. He wore The Hole's attire pretty well, not that there was much too it just a pair of tight black jeans and short sleeve black fitted Under Armor shirt. He regarded me with some trepidation before servicing the cluster of frat girls, who are wearing too much make up and not enough clothing.
The rookie seemed to have finally grasped the flow of customers, so I made myself useful, lifting the heavy tray of used glasses from underneath the counter. I planned to make good on my promise, well half of it. I didn't need another fight that could possibly get the police involve. It didn't help my ego when my own sister had to hail into a police car then pay my bail the next day. A reiteration wasn't needed or wanted. Having a family member in the force didn't have all the incentives one would think.
I planted the tray harsher than I intended too, the glass cups clanking together in protest. It wasn't Mikasa's fault I couldn't keep my temper in check. Her fucking façade of disenchantment when she hauled me in didn't aid in leveling my rage. Lieutenant Hannes was forgetful enough to misplace the report filed against me, so I was able to maintain a clear record.
I packed the dishes into the dishwasher; normally we had to clean all of them by hand, until Aururo installed this new edition due to the increase revenue from the new coming female patrons. I was already switching out the clean cups when Aururo carved his way into the kitchen.
"JAEGER!" His voice ranged forcefully.
"Fuck," I muttered, quickly adding, "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."
"What? No, it's your sister, calling. Again," he emphasized with mild irritation.
"Shit," I released an exasperated sigh, carding my fingers through my hair. The locks felt oily under my fingertips. Mikasa developed the annoying habit of calling in during my shifts, which was at first endearing. At first is the key word here. Now it made me feel my own sister thought I was so incompetent that I needed constant surveillance.
Aururo stood parallel to me, choosing to continue on the matter of the frequency of Mikasas's phone calls. "Listen I get you two are close, but, seriously, she got some Norman Bates' mother kind of vibes. Every night, she's calling." I resisted the impulse to ask if he recently watched Psycho, hopefully if wasn't that God awful remake.
I kept my hands busy, filling the dish rack. "Look, I tell her all the time not to call. She doesn't listen to me."
"Just take the call in my office. I'll finish up here," he said.
"I knew you couldn't stay mad at me, bae," I smirked, watching him take over dish duty.
Aururo stopped then, gripping a large glass pitcher, sending me a harsh glare. "I will seriously shove this pitcher up your ass if you don't shut up."
I eyed the pitcher in his hand with a thoughtful expression, deliberating the possibility. "And I thought all the spark was gone in the bedroom."
"No lube," he finished, as if that was line for me.
"Just the way I like it."
"Go. Away. Now." Aururo gave his back to me, tending to the dirty dishes, thus putting an end to any further comebacks from me.
Settling myself in Aururo's rather Mafia-like chair, I picked up the receiver, pushing the HOLD button off in the process. Preparing myself for another onslaught, my elbows rested on the edge on the table. I fingered the glossy sheen that seen better days, it suffered from a series of lesions probably cause of Aururo's shitty habit of grinding the blunt tip of his pen whenever he recounted the money at the end of last call.
"Eren?"
"Can you stop calling every night? Not only is that shit embarrassing, Aururo reams my ass." Suffice to say, I wasn't in the mood for her over protective sister act.
"You know why I worry," she immediately explained as if that was all the reason she needed. She was a cop- so apparently, she knew better.
"I get it. So can you tone it down, mommy dearest?" I grumbled. Fuck, cut the damn umbilical cord.
"Do you sustain yourself by watching HBO all day?"
"Not my fault you're not up to date on Game of Thrones," I countered.
"Some of us work." Well someone is feeling especially sassy tonight.
"Haha, funny. Did you call to bust my balls or do you have something to talk about?"
There was a slight paused. "It's a full moon tonight.."
I pulled the receiver from my ear, staring in dumbfound disbelief. Quickly, I pressed it back between my ear and shoulder. "What the actual fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing good happens on a full moon," she rationalized.
"Mikasa, what the fuck?" I really couldn't warp my head on what the fuck that statement was supposed to mean to me.
Mikasa offered, "Let me pick you up from work."
"Hell no," I countered hastily.
"Eren,"
"I'm not 7, Mikasa. Do you want my testicles as earrings that badly?"
"Eren, stop talking about your nuts."
"Then stop trying to take them away!" I gritted out.
"I'm not! I just want to drive you home for once. I have a feeling about tonight."
"Mikasa, no. You need to get away from work."
"Eren," she pleaded.
I exhaled laboriously, "I don't need a chauffeur. I'll text you when I get home, okay?" There, I compromised; I'm not a total dick.
Mikasa finally conceded. "Fine. Just watch yourself."
"Ditto."
I retuned the phone to its platform, thumping my head softly on the edge of the table. My body was already starting to feeling the side effects of a long day, my shift normally ended at 1 am but the weekends had the tendency to stretch my hours. It wasn't all bad; more hours meant more money which I lacked in great quantity. Repaying your college tuition took nearly all of your paycheck, I could make my pavements smaller but there was the lingering interest that could easily double the amount I owe. No- it was a safer bet to pay it off as fast as I could. That meant a shitty one bedroom, 1 bath apartment adjacent to the train station. In the dead of night, I could near the monotone robotic voice announced the arrival at Clark and Lake.
Aururo barged in his office, making a point to huff impatiently at my slumping form on his desk.
"Everything good, Jaeger?" He asked, prodding a boney finger in my side. Too tired to argue, I blindly swatted at his hand.
"Just the usual," I told him.
"If you weren't adopted, I'd be really concern about that girl."
"Hmm," I mumbled in agreement.
It wasn't the kind of relationship I expected to develop when I was taken in by the Ackermans. I was an outsider. I had little recollection of my own family, how could I fit in another one? Despite the fact, Mikasa wordlessly took me in under her wing, even though I was a year older than her. It was like I've always belong there; it just took all that time and suffering to get to them. Adopted or not, she was my sister and that didn't opted her out of annoying the fuck out of me sometimes.
"Head home, Eren," Aururo ordered.
I lifted my head, willing my heavy eyelids to stay open. "Are you sure?" Granted, my body was ready to call it quits, I wouldn't leave Aururo or Rick hanging.
"Well I ain't paying your troublesome ass overtime. Besides, it's time to take the training wheels off, Rick gotta learn to run the bar," he elaborated.
Peeling myself from the comfort of seat, I casted Aururo an hesitant look, "If it's all right.." I tested.
"Go home already and jerk off to mediocre porn," he gave me an encouraging push towards the door and motion with his hands "to shoo away" before slumping in his seat. Choosing to let that last comment slide, my porn collection was anything but mundane, I bided him with appreciative wave and left.
The strobe lights were still flashing, painting the patrons in frightening hues of red probably making the acid users trip major balls. The lights only served to give me a fucking migraine. Aururo only installed them to keep their attention away from the horrendous joke that The Hole calls a dance floor. It was constructed of those cheap titles you buy from Home Depot when you were working with a budget. I always pondered what this place was prior to Aururo renovating this dump.
I caught Rick's line of vision, inclining my head towards the back as I threw Spock's ironic "live on and prosper" sign at him. His lips jerked into a small smile and returned the gesture awkwardly; clearly someone needed a sit down on the 4-0-1 on Star Trek. Should of guessed he wasn't a huge Sci-Fi fan when I dropped my favorite Jedi quote, "these are not the droids you are looking for, move along," when he came to me on his 3rd day looking for the Amaretto. He gave me a blank look that was on the verge of a mental breakdown, a customer had given him a swift drink in his face for screwing up her Amaretto Stone Sour, novice.
Trekking to the staff locker room, I dumped the mini black apron tied around my waist into my locker, slipped on my brown leather jacket and headed to the rear of the building. Taking the back entrance, I cut down the alley, opting to avoid the main street and thus the possible lingering drunks. This route shaved a good five minute of my trip back home.
The moon was at my back, almost breathing down my neck, daunting me. I shook off the odd thought; Mikasa's sudden statement about full moon had me all paranoid. Of all the people I know for Mikasa to be superstitious set my frayed nerves on edge. Maybe it was instinct Mikasa had been on the force for only a couple years but she rivaled most of the seasoned officers. She quickly became a bit of a prodigy at the station.. She had rough call in on nights like these. Or maybe people were so fucking dumb to believe that old wives shit to act like a dumb fuck on full moons. I preferred to believe I had my head way to far up my ass that I'm very giving some cryptic shit an ounce of my brain cells.
I ignored the way my body involuntary shivered, this wasn't Nightmare on Elm Street, and the worse that would occur on a night like this is a mugging. Not like I would actually lose my life by some odd Supernatural-like bullshit. Snickering to myself, I thought about the characters Dean and Sam sliding up to me and handing me that wicked crossbow, whispering harshly "there's no time explain, you have to follow us,"; I would and then we'd fuck soon after too.
The scream that departed my lips when a sharp crash sounded was shameful, I was lucky The Macho Man Squad wasn't there to revoke my balls. Still trying to save face, I directed myself in the direction of the noise, craning my neck unnaturally. Only three things happen in a dark alleyway at 3 in the morning; the exchange of narcotics, 5 dollar blowjobs, and serial murders; and I wasn't in the vending mood for any of those.
It came from a narrow alleyway that lead nowhere, two massive metal city trash dumpsters settled against the wall. Breathing a grateful sigh, I loosen my shoulders. I scrubbed my hair furiously, my body tottering as laughter leaked outwards. I can't believe I almost piss my pants over nothing.
"Fuck," I let out breathlessly, "No more classic horror movie nights for me."
The churning in my gut should have forewarned me to continue home but a soft whine called my attention. The light fixtures above were out, blanketing the small corner in darkness, even the moon's ray failed to penetrate it. My eyelids scrunched together tightly, my body pivoting towards the dumpsters. There was a dark form hidden behind one of the blue giant trash dumps. It shifted and I could make out a fluffy tail which tucked inwards.
It had to be a stray dog, which wasn't too uncommon in the city.
"Come here," I coaxed softly, extending my hand. My converse crunched on the remains of broken Corona bottles and I slipped out a quiet curse, glaring at the landmine of trash before me. I peered back to the dog and found two yellow eyes meet my gaze, the light behind me caught it causing an ominous glow to emit from the creature.
The pungent stench of ammonia and sulfur enveloped me, forcing me to cover my mouth with the back of my hand. My stomach lurched and I forced gallons of oxygen down my throat, willing my lunch to lay it wait. Projectile vomiting my burrito would really fucking suck right now.
"Hey fella..or um..lady," talking to a dog did distract me from my intestines threatening to turn inside out, "You wanna get out of here? I don't have any Kibble and Bits but I have bacon."
Dogs can understand a 100 words and I bet my left nut every dog could comprehend the word "bacon". My feet shuffled closer, paying careful attention to avoid stepping on the day old condom. The concrete sounded slick under my soles, had it rain today? I peeked a glance downwards; the light at my back bounced off a liquid pooling at the edge of the dumpster. Fishing my cell from my pocket, I aimed the light from the screen towards the ground. My phone was complete shit; I never had the money or the desire to upgrade to those fancy smart phones; so maybe it was the weak light that gave me the impression that the pooling substance was blood.
The light dulled out and I swiped my fingers across the screen again, attempting to keep the space illuminated. My own blood chilled as my inspection continued. Shit, this definitely wasn't my night. A injured stray, my bank account was screaming to turn away, but there were dozens of shelters. Maybe at this hour it wouldn't be possible to get it any help but I could leave before my shift started. Take the stray to the shelter, my conscious would be clear and my finances unaffected.
A distinctive growl pulled my gaze back to the stray and I realized there was something off about this scenario. First, the dog was uncoiling itself from it stationary position. It stood tall, powerful. It shoulders hunched forward as its snot sniffed at the air, tasting it. Dogs don't stay on two legs like a human, and they don't definitely tower and talk like one either.
My limbs stiffen, preferring to be permanently rooted to the stop rather than running for my fucking life. And I could actually feel the sensation of the hairs on the nape of my neck standing up, as if they had half a mind to bolt as well. It was comforting to know my body hair was intelligent. In my next life, this information will be viable to the not-dead future self.
The first thought hurtling towards my brain was werewolf but I waved off the idea because I wasn't on the set of True Blood or Supernatural. But this beast sure looked like one if I was going to ignore the fact my skeleton was going to be invented relevantly soon. Its legs were three jointed; allowing it to border over my height easily, the massive barricade of muscle that constructed it chest was covered in a thick coat of copper fur. It's arms laid extended outwards, waiting for the opportunity to strike out; if you could call that thickly corded appendage an arm..
Unwavering yellow eyes fixated on me pointedly, gradually aware of the presence of prey. And fuck me seven ways to Sunday when my mind trying to dissect whether it was a werewolf or a lycan. It shouldn't matter but it did-cause I was 5 seconds away from ending up as dog manure by the end of the night.