"Hey, could anyone help me? Hello? Anybody home?" called out the teen, glancing around the dark store. I moved to the next corner, and the noise startled the teen. If this form could let me laugh, I would with pride. I mentally smirked as I saw the teen cower behind one of the video racks. He couldn't hide, even if he wanted to. The scent of his fear mixed with the scent of warm blood. How that man had screamed!
I brought myself back, and then with joy slammed my shoulder into the nearest video rack. They fell like dominoes. The teen's heart skipped a beat, and then continued to blast at full speed. I casually crawled over to his trapped body. He lay still, still twitching from his nerves. He was so oblivious. Not a horrible to strategy, to stay completely still, if he was dealing with a stupid animal. I am not one of the stupid ones.
A new scent arose from his neck. Well, that was interesting. 4 deep cuts, which were in the exact shape of a claw, were present on his nape. This one had pushed one of my brethren a bit too far. Noises from outside the store indicated it was time for my leave. The expression on that child was priceless as I left.
Peter slowly awoke in his wheel-chair. His slowly inhaled, looking for a scent, then listened for a heartbeat. Several distant ones muted enough to be outside a closed door. He glanced towards the door. His ears had not lied to him. The scarred man rolled his neck, and then scratched an itch that had been persisting.
A suddenly approaching heart-beat ended these simple pleasures. Peter almost jumped slightly when the door was kicked open by a rather anxious person. The door was quickly locked, and the feet shifted as it peered into the hall through the window. Blinds were violently closed, and the person finally settled on the bed across from him. Through the corner of his eye he saw who this person was.
It was another teenager. Well that was just dandy. This poor excuse for a "young adult" had a rather disturbing appearance. He wore his hair nearly shaven, except for the right side of his bangs, which were shaggy and unkempt. Pale skin and bony features continued his bizarre appearance. He had a violin case with him, and a small back-pack. The boy smiled, then began to speak.
"You, my friend, Mr.-" the boy took the paper-work of the end of the bed, and then continued "Mr. Peter Hale." The boy paused again. This was going to be good. "You are quite the expert on hiding, aren't you?" he giggled. "Now, I realize this seems rather bizarre, and before I do anything to upset your, quote on quote "Fragile State", allow me to play you a little tune." Peter was tempted to raise his eyebrows at such a strange act, but focused on keeping his even stranger act up.
The teen proceed to reach towards his violin case, but instead of opening the main case, opened a smaller one. He drew out a little metal stick which was hallowed, and did so with great flourish. "And a one, and a two" sneered the boy, before blowing on the silver tube. What escaped from the tube was a sonnet from Hell. Peter gritted his teeth, and gripped the chair. The boy, now encouraged from this demonstration, blew even harder on the tube. The sound shot through Peter's body, rebounding off his skull and piercing his brain. The damn child laughed when he fell out of the chair. Peter's new torturer began playing "For he's a jolly good fellow" on the tube, causing Peter to writhe in pain.
"Enough! Enough damn it!" snarled Peter, claws and fangs erupting from his form. The child stopped, and rather than producing the scent of fear, he gave the scent of joy. "Well, finally! I have to hand it to you old man; you kept your act up well! I'd never be able to just sit around all day, acting like a brain-dead fool!" giggled the teen furiously. He sighed, obviously content with his new position of power.
"So, just so there isn't any misunderstanding, you are the creature that killed the video store clerk, correct?" "What?" asked Peter. "Did I mumble, Peter? Were you that big, hairy, slobbering man-dog that mauled the video store clerk?" asked the teen. Now he was pushing him. Peter's claws were on the boy's throat in a flash. "Ah, ah, ah Peter. Remember, they have your DNA here, and if you kill me, here and now, all the evidence will point towards you. Think what it will be like, to be in a cage all day, no way to get out, to sing for your beautiful Luna." Smirked the teen.
"What the hell are you babbling on about?" questioned the wolf. "…I was trying to be ironically poetic. Luna? ….the fucking moon, ToTo. You can't get out to the moon, sing, AKA howling to the moon. To be the animal you really are. You can't do that shit in a steel cage, surrounded by tons of concrete. So I'm saying, sit down in your special little chair, or you're screwed." Replied the teen.
"You are really pushing it, kid." Growled Peter. "You know, that door isn't as thick as you think. Make too much noise, and they could pop in. "Oh no, is Mr. Hale having a seizure! Everybody, come in quick!" giggled the teen, mimicking the nurse for the last part. Peter gripped on the boy's throat, and then released him. "Good boy." Teased the child.
"I can just kill you and bust out the window, your realize th-"barked Peter, before being rudely interrupted by an even more painful barrage of sounds. It was coming from a battery powered air compressor, which the boy had fitted on the tip with a dog whistle. "You never did answer my question Pet-"smiled the boy. "Yes! Yes, fuck it, I am the beast that killed the clerk!" hissed Peter, before attempting to make a move towards the device. The boy casually kicked Peter in the jaw. Peter fell back and reached for his chair for support. "Now, enough of this pleasant chit-chat. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to know everything about you, your race, and most specifically; your weaknesses." Said the teen.
"How the hell did you even find me?" sighed Peter, using all his will-power not to scream in agony. "I'll tell you when you answer my question. Start talking, Pete."