I stuffed my hands in my pocket, fingering the 9mm in my right hand. John (my brother, he's 6'2" and has light brown hair, which was starting to turn gray, and green eyes) and I were scoping out this Real World joint. It's a dinky little bar called 'The Fallen'; clearly someone without tact picked that name.

Unless it was a stupid sucker.

Then it would fit, God I hate suckers. All they do is feed off of others. There very being destroys, at least wulfen mostly stick to mostly already dead stuff. Not suckers, they took everything from us: our home, our normalcy, and our…our mom.

My hand twitched and unconsciously tightens on the gun. We never had a dad, but mom was always there, to us it didn't matter that we lived in the ghetto. She even got John into the marines.

John was in the marines for four years and about to relist went the suckers killed mom, I was 7 years old. John and I have been on the run ever since. To be quite honest it's his marine training keeping us alive.

Using his training he carries out exterminations. That's how we survived exterminations and moving. We have a faded blue Chevy truck, which holds everything we own, we even sleep in it.

Right now I was on the lookout for John as he talked to the owner, a werewulfen, go figure.

"Thanks for your time." My brother said. His chair squeaked as he went to leave. I followed after like a lap dog. "Did you get your information?" I asked casually, I really hope he didn't, because if John got the lintel he needed, that meant he will leave me alone tonight.

Even though it's my 16th birthday he'll still go. He looked over he drove, "Sorry sweetheart but I did, but went I get back we'll go out to eat."

"Go out to eat?" I asked dubiously. We. Never. Go. Out. To Eat. John said there was too many ways to get cornered in a restaurant. It was always takeout or sandwiches.

"It's a special day, we'll go to Hibachi or something." He looked over worried at my silent; his face fell, and asked tentively "You ok Amber?"

I started to smile once I started to talk I said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you…." In a high pitched voice that wasn't my own.

.:xXx:.

John left at 5 and said he would be back at 7, I spent the time at the motel taking a shower and looking though my merger collection of clothes. It contained 5 pairs of jeans, 2 pairs of sweatpants, 3 tee-shirts, 3 tank tops, 2 long sleeves shirts, a grey hoodie, heavy duty dark green jacket, black fingerless gloves, assortment of socks and underwear, combat boots, and tan converse. Nothing fancy, so I decide on the black tank top, jeans, combat boots, the gloves, and the hoodie. I put my stuff back into my bag, and started to clean the 9mm out of habit. It was 6 o'clock now so I waited.

.:xXx:.

4 hours later I was now in a chair by the window holding John's shotgun. I was going to be in trouble for touching it, but I was worried, he was never this late. My brother was a sticker for punctuality. The sense of dread was making the gun very heavy. I felt like there was a cotton ball in my mouth went I whisper, "Went will he get back?"

A howl that rocked me to the core, the howl of a wulfen, and it was coming closer. Oh shit, I pull the shotgun into a firing position as I waited for the hell that was coming my way.

.:xXx:.

Ok this is important I have too many stories going right now. So I have a poll to see which stories I should put on the back burner. So if you want this story to not go on hiatus vote for it ok!