"Chaos you stand here accused of sixty murders…"
Chaos stood in the middle of the floor, struggling violently against the thick chains. They were buried deep in the cold, dirt floor. There were no rocks or debris, only huge gaping holes in sight…evidence of previous struggles from other prisoners that were mildly successful. Until the Keepers killed them where they stood. There were four chains on each of her legs, three on each slim arm, one around her petite waist and neck, and an intricate silver muzzle with several straps and buckles partially hiding her grimy but pretty face from view. The shackles bit into her skin, making her bleed; she twisted and turned as if her soul was on fire, while making threatening growling noises that were no where close t being human. As the metal cut deeper and deeper to the bone, making her crimson blood ooze on to the dirt, she was thrown into her hatred making her struggle all the harder harder. Just one of those chains could hold fallen angels to earth with the up most ease, and, yet, sixteen chains were dying with the effort of holding Chaos down.
"It was self defense,'" she screamed in the muzzle, but no one heard. The muzzle was too tight to make much noise. "It was technically only fifty nine murders. If that idiot hadn't attacked me, he wouldn't have died and fifty nine of his buddies wouldn't have jumped in looking for revenge! Not that it would help any."
No one was around her, nothing but twenty feet of empty space in every direction until you hit the walls. Chaos stood in the middle of the first floor meant solely to hold 'prisoners'. It had one way in, and same one way out. It was an ancient thick door with crosses and ancient words she didn't understand branded into the wood. The second floor was fifty feet above her, sitting on the meticulously cleaned white walls. Second floor was reserved for the audience. Judges, politicians, wealthy merchants, aristocrats and nobles of every sort, members of the clergy, everyone was a person with power. They were all human. Of course, she thought savagely. They sat there on velvet cushions in their satin robes ogling at her, acting as if she was the source of entertainment for them. Their faces blended together in her eyes of rage; over two hundred people watched her, but she only noticed the high judge sitting in front of her, above the old door, shouting out his verdict like he was an ancient god of judgment. In the very back of the second floor, located near one of its many exists, a single person realized her power, and was trembling because of it.
"…you are also accused of twenty accounts breaking and entering…"
He watched Chaos from the back row. Her clothes were shredded, bloody, and dirty and she had no shoes on her blackened feet. He would never have guessed that she was the cause of all this havoc, but then again her named did appear to be Chaos. His clergymen brothers only saw her porcelain skin and flawless face, the ice blue eyes that were sending daggers to Head Judge Julius. But he was watching the muscles rippling under that skin that had the chains moaning, wondered how strong her teeth—her bite—was under that mask. Most of all, he watched her long untamed mane. He pictured her running in the wild with that beautiful straw colored hair. She did not belong here…and she was scaring the crap out of him. Solomon watched her with his cinnamon brown eyes, nervously pushing back his shaggy jet-black hair from his delicate features. The tall, lean clergyman would never of guessed that the terror bellow him was seventeen, only four years younger than him.
Solomon was a clergyman very much different from many of those seated. He was what was known as a Keeper—they where dedicated and brave individuals that kept Chaos' breed 'in place'. Keepers where allowed to marry, to have children and to do many other things not typically allowed; but most Keepers died in the field by age forty, so rules where usually kinder concerning them. Many a person wondered why the soft, spoiled, pampered Solomon had become a Keeper; he did not fall into any category of brave.
"I did NO such thing!" Chaos threw herself towards the door. "I threw THEM into the walls and the doors! They broke and they entered!"
Solomon was starting to see his life flash before his eyes. He was starting to hyperventilate and dug his perfectly manicured nails into the expensive cherry wood chair arms. He watched Chaos' hair, waiting for the moment that it was no longer an uncombed mass of tresses that fell to her waist, but fur covering her entire body. He was waiting for the moment she was no longer a human, but a werewolf. Wolf would be a poor description, but the closets thing used to describe what they were. They were larger, usually along ten feet in length, making them monsters in size. For that size, their legs were very long and more graceful then any wolfs', making them agile as cats. The fur was longer, thicker, and able to withstand sub zero winds and keep the beast warm. Strength and speed was beyond compare, but most frightening thing of all was the razor like teeth. Before they opened their mouths, werewolves looked noble and beautiful, after the teeth were shown many a brave man ran in fear. Long and thin, meant to slice open instead of rip and tear, and instead of a milky white color they would be an odd steely gray—one bite and it was all over. Unlike the stories of old, moonchildren, as they preferred to be called, they were not anything like a human at all when transformed, and it had almost nothing to do with the cycles of the moon. Solomon started twisting the white silk cape of his Keeper's uniform into knots, trying to convince himself that there was no reason to run. As long as the chains held, she couldn't transform.
"….and twenty million dollars worth of damage…."
There was a long pause of absolute silence, even High Judge Julius waited. In less then half a second, Chaos no longer stood chained to the ground; she was flying in the air toward the Judge. As the chains unwound with a gentle sigh of relief and hit the ground, she was no longer human, but a werewolf the same color as her hair, hurtling towards Julius. Chaos' brothers had always told her, think before you leap, but she had never listened then and wouldn't listen now because now she was leaping toward the Judge. Her main objective was to rip the Judge into small puzzle pieces; the punishment afterwards had not even entered her mind. Not that she cared all too much.
There was a panic now. Hundreds and hundreds of Keepers were flooding the floor, subduing her before the Judge turned up on the main menu. All but one Keeper made the daring jump to the first floor; all but one considered throwing themselves in front of her, trying to make sure no 'innocent' bystander was taken out. Hundreds were trying, but it should have only taken one. Solomon knew of her strength, and was out the door before the chains even broke figuring that if High Judge Julius took so much pleasure handing down sentences to werewolves, he should be able to protect himself…and there was the issue that he didn't want to wet himself in front of the other Keepers.
There was a great building five miles away from the prison. Ah, correctional facilities where werewolves where sentenced and held. On the outside, it appeared to be a great gothic style church, complete with ancient, weeping gargoyle guardians. The gargantuan towers arrogantly spiraled towards the sky to caress its sacred clouds and colors from stained windows danced in the sunlight on city streets. It was made entirely of black marble; it seemed more like thousands of small buildings linked to another. And that was exactly what it was. The great church Venerate was where all the Keepers trained, slept, ate, and more or less lived. As time went by, the simple church was not large enough, or extravagant enough to fit their needs. So they built onto the church, adding great halls, bathhouses, laundry rooms, sleeping quarters, libraries upon libraries, classrooms, physical training rooms and fencing rooms, kitchens, mess halls, massive gardens, offices, and lastly horse stables. Usually, this would not be tolerated, making a church into a miss match of a boarding house, business and a school but Keepers have always gotten away with many things.
Even though it was grand, and even though the Keepers were responsible for the peace, they still could not afford electricity or cars. Electricity was rare and reversed for the rich and powerful. Now and then, you would see a car running through town, and people would stop and stare as if an Angel had proclaimed Armageddon to restart. Candles and oil lamps lit the houses and streets. Horses, mules, and oxen were once again king of the roads.
Solomon had run five miles in the scorching summer heat in a heavy Keeper uniform, and was now panting in one of the hallways of Venerate. There were no windows and candlelight played on the darkly painted walls, a dancer to an unheard tune. Solomon was nearly doubled over with his head between his knees. He could still hear Chaos in all her range screaming: 'What in the hell do you mean millions!! It was the Goddamn slums'. All in all, he was rather proud of himself. He hadn't screamed (just yelled); he hadn't fainted (just ran) or wet himself (thank god).
WHAM
SCREAAAAAAAM
Someone hit Solomon's shoulder in a friendly way, causing Solomon to scream like a small child. He whirled around, scarred, embarrassed, and angry.
"How's my favorite nephew?" asked a robust blonde. He shared the same flattering face as Solomon and the same height, but the similarities ended there. His uncle was quiet simply the golden boy everyone dreamed of being, personality and tan included. Pale Solomon came up very short compared to his Uncle Geoffrey, master of all the Keepers, legendary hero of the people.
"Wonderful Uncle Geoffrey," Solomon replied a bit weakly, rubbing his heart.
"Were you at the trail today?"
"I just got back from jogging actually." One thing Solomon could do well was shape the truth into a lie.
"You sure? I thought I heard you yelling 'Please help me'?"
"No, no that was not me," I was yelling 'Oh God please help me she's going to eat me.' It's quite different really.
"Well in that case, I found your wolf," said Geoffrey. "She's a bit on the rough side, but I'm sure it's just a phase. On the plus side, she hasn't(?) commented any major offensives recently." All Keepers where given a werewolf to look after. The regular prison system could not hold them. So long ago, they found a way to collar and chain unlawfully-abiding wolves to a human, a Keeper.
Solomon mentally bristled like someone had tried to gut him. His Uncle had a way of lying to get what he wanted, and he had learned as a child the painful consequences of going against him, "Oh really," he said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm. "Thank you so much Uncle." Rough! She's not rough! She's wiiild.
"Yes," said Geoffrey, "I'm sure you will be perfect for each other."
"Thank you again Uncle," She's GOING to kill me, I'm coming back and haunting you.
"You can collect her tomorrow at the hospital. She's being collared as we speak."
"Cant wait!" Just kill me now and save everyone some trouble.
Geoffrey gave a dazzling smile and left.
Five minutes later, Solomon let himself faint. One out of three was still good wasn't it?