Some time after The Girl Who Spied Wolf before The Manchurian Werewolf, spoilers for BWOC.

Pleasantville seemed like a completely innocent and prosperous town. The research I'd done suggested the missing persons and unsolved murder rate was little higher than normal. Otherwise nothing stood out, except maybe some weird isolated incidents that had started showing up in the papers about a year ago. Vandalism, unexplained scorch marks, break ins at the local fried chicken restaurant, rumors of a werewolf. All pretty minor. Maybe this was the Merlin's idea of a joke; take me away from where I was needed and put me in the middle of Maybury for a werewolf hunt. Or maybe it was something darker. I tapped the steering wheel in frustration. I'd been cruising the neighborhood for some time following my hair compass and listening to the soothing rhythm of the 'fasten seatbelt' alarm. Man, I already felt sorry for the rental car people.

The tracking spell I'd done in front of Merton's house had let me pick up residual magical energy from the werewolf, but I'd decided to try the hairs I'd found in his room since he'd told me he didn't have a cat or a dog. Either the werewolf wasn't Merton or there was more than one wolf out there. It was beginning to get dark and the hairs were stubbornly pointing towards the park. Was that a suspicious blur? I squinted, then parked my car and got out for a little walk under the streetlights with my blasting rod for company. The compass led me around a screen of bushes and there it was, the Pleasantville werewolf.

"Seriously?" There are many kinds of werewolves, from shape-changers, to skinwalkers, to guys wearing magical wolf-skin belts. This one had to be the silliest I'd ever seen. Take the Wolf-Man from those late night monster movies and imagine something less imposing. Yep. That's it. Not scary at all unless you had a life long fear of sideburns. At first I wasn't sure if it was real or a makeup job although I don't think they make contacts that actually glow with yellow light. He was wearing a letterman's jacket, of all things.

"Hey you." His words were garbled through his fangs. "Move! Get away, now!" He looked ready to flee or attack for a second and then he ripped a bar off the wrought iron fence and growled, coming straight for me. If the blur was any indication he was way faster than I was. So I moved in first, punching him in the solar plexus with my force rings, unleashing enough kinetic energy to knock him onto his back and then some. I turned only to run directly into a second wolf-man who'd been standing right behind me, apparently. It was like hitting a wall, but then I'm not exactly a lightweight. I bowled him over and got a face full of claws. Blood stung my eyes and I lashed out blindly.

"For-" Then the world exploded and the back of my eyelids showed fireworks displays before I fell into unconsciousness.

"Well, how are we today?" A fussy, far too chipper male voice spoke up. I tried to open my blood-crusted eyes and managed to pry them apart. They stung, and the light coming through them sent an icepick to my brain but at least I knew I still had eyes. I was lying on a hard floor and somebody nearby was moaning. Never a good way to wake up.

"You'll be happy to know I collected your stuff and put it all in a little box for you." I pushed myself up just a little. There were light and dark patches around me, mostly dark, but my brain couldn't find any meaning in them.

"Feeling better? You've been asleep quite a long time."

My eyes could just barely make out the speaker, but he seemed to be a disembodied head giving off rays of light. I blinked and finally my brain figured out he was just a guy holding a candle. He was tall, with hair oiled and perfectly parted down the middle. He was wearing a cheerful smile. And a cloak. He was standing behind some bars, which probably meant I was in prison.

"Why does it always have to be cloaks?" I groaned. "At least tell me where I am."

"Pardon? You're in the dungeon of the Evil Werewolf Syndicate."

I had been trying to push myself up to sitting position, but I stopped for a moment. "Tell me you're kidding. Evil Werewolf..."

Cloak guy shrugged. "I wanted to call it the League of Lycanthropes. Alliteration, you know. Or the Lycan League."

"Lori...? Merton...that you?" Someone was moaning behind me. I turned to see the werewolf from last night still in his letterman's jacket and jeans only now he looked like a human teenager.

"Why'd you hit me?" He grumbled.

"You went after me." "Look, I told you to move...guy."

"It's Harry."

"Tommy."

"Oh we're getting to know each other. I'm Gil!"

Tommy rolled his eyes "I already know you, Gil."

"Gil" I said, very cautiously, finally rising to my feet. "Do you think I could get an aspirin?" Hey, it was worth a shot.

"Weeell..." he frowned.

I groaned. "My head is really hurting me here, I'm not going to lie. I think I'm going to have a nasty goose egg."

Gil pulled out a set of keys, fidgeted with them and dropped them back into his pocket with a shake of his head. That made me raise an eyebrow. Someone hadn't been reading the Evil Overlord's list. "After what happened last time I've been specifically instructed not to go into the cages, even if you get sick." Gil sounded sheepish. "I probably shouldn't be even talking to you, let alone doing guard duty by myself, but Ralph was sick, so..."

"Aw man," Tommy said. "And I could really use a drink of water too."

I sat back down and began sweeping the floor with my hand, collecting all the loose grit I could into a pile in my right palm. I breathed in and out slowly, gradually collecting energy and drawing it into the pile. After a long time, I nudged Tommy and whispered "I have an idea. Get to your feet and act really, really surprised."

"What is that!?" I yelled, elbowing Tommy. "Nothing has that many legs!"

"Roach?" Gil asked cheerfully.

"It's eating the stone!" That seemed to get his attention.

"Where?"

"Back in that corner!" I pointed with a shaking finger.

"Yeah..." Tommy said hesitantly. "That thing's creepy."

"I don't see anything." Gil peered closer into the dim cell.

That was my cue. "Dorme." I threw my handful of sand into his eyes and he sank to the floor in a dreamless sleep.

"What'd you-" Tommy gaped.

"Never mind! Help me get the keys!" I grabbed my stuff and followed Tommy up the stairs. At the top there was a number keypad on the wall. I was going to zap it, but Tommy beat me to it, punching it into the wall. 'Evil Werewolves' might use interior decorators from the dark ages, but they understood modern alarm systems all too well. Immediately there was a loud clanging that made my head almost split in two with pain. The door opened and a bald man wearing a cloak appeared at the top of the stairs. He snarled. With incredible presence of mind, I threw up on his shoes.