Ah yes, my patchwork nightmare that is the fused Teen Wolf/Wolf Lake universe comes to life. I even decided to throw in a dash on vintage, Michael J. Fox era Teen Wolf with the inclusion of the Pamela character and I have toyed with the idea of having Scott take up boxing as a slight nod to Teen Wolf Too. I wouldn't count myself as a huge fan of the original movie, though I do find it enjoyable, and while I do love the TV Show I have to say I'm not sure why they felt the need to slap the Teen Wolf label onto a television series that, other than the two first names of the main characters and the concept of a teenage werewolf, has absolutely nothing in common with the films. Ah well, maybe I'll write a fic where Scott McCall runs into a grown up Scott Howard who dispenses some advice or something.
Anyway, ramble over. Time for the story.
"Late late late late late!"
Scott McCall was, as his constant chanting as he sped on his bicycle towards the diner indicated, late for his job. Despite the sixteen-year-old's severe asthma and generally unimpressive reputation with sports and any outdoor physical activity in general Scott was actually a somewhat competent cyclist not that he had received any recognition from either his peers or even himself. As Scott dodged and weaved around people and cars, he repeated the word over and over again. As if he acknowledged his lateness it would be something in the way of an apology, as though his desperate, wheezing exclamations of how late he was would somehow carry across some cosmic ether to find the ear's of his employer who would understand how sorry he was for being so late. How much he needed this job, how much his family needed this job. His lungs tingled and burned and suddenly felt as though they were filling up with cotton and Scott groaned miserably.
As the familiar feeling in his chest filled up his brain with a terrible awareness, crawled in from the edges of his consciousness as every breath he took to power his legs became accompanied by a louder and louder buzzing wheeze Scott wanted to scream at God, the Universe and Willard Cates himself (who might as well have been God as far as Wolf Lake was concerned.) about just how unfair this all was. Still, Scott pressed on, determined to get to his job and make himself some money even if his lungs exploded before he even walked through the door. Every breath became an aching chore as his asthma butted in to ruin his life one more time. Just like it did every time he tried to get on the high school football team, just as it did every time he tried to talk to Pamela Spencer or any girl for that matter.
Just as it did when he almost passed out when he woke up one morning to find his dad was gone.
Gritting his teeth, Scott redoubled his efforts. The weight of his inhaler in his breast pocket almost seemed to taunt him. It was so close, one puff was all it would take to delay the oncoming attack but at the speeds Scott was going to fumble for it would risk losing control of his bike and getting into a huge accident.
He stopped talking in an attempt to conserve his quickly waning lung power. He did manage to shout sorry when he almost ran down Vivian Cates on her way out of the Sheriff's office. He really, really hoped she didn't recognize him as he sped away from her, totally unaware that she had smelled him coming from a mile away. He internalized his guilt driven mantra, focusing on it. Trying to block out the fact that his body was once again failing him and focus on powering through it on pure willpower.
'Latelatelatelatelatelate.' his internal monologue blazed, it rang like a buzz saw in his mind. Blocking out everything else, including his awareness of traffic lights. 'Latelatelatelatelate-OHSHITACAR!'
Scott had a split second to recognize the fact that that had been staring directly at the black sedan before his bike collided with it and he went flying over the hood like a missile. He belly flopped onto the hard asphalt of the road, his skull bouncing when it collided with the street. Only his helmet saved him from having to introduce his brains to downtown Wolf Lake. For a moment he lay there like a dying fish, gasping for air and totally stunned by the impact. Behind him a car door slammed shut and he heard swearing.
"You stupid, clumsy little ungulate pig-shit!"
Oh…joy. He could tell from the air of entitlement in that voice that he'd collided with a car belonging to someone who lived up on The Hill. Now in addition to dying alone on some street surrounded by people who didn't give two shits about him he was going to die being lectured and threatened with lawsuit by some rich Willard Cates wannabe who didn't even see him as belonging to the same species.
He managed to find the strength to roll onto his back and looked up at the hulking man towering over him. He was handsome in a thuggish sort of way, completely bald and dressed in all black. He opened his mouth and Scott ignored the fact that his teeth seemed a little to long and a little to sharp to belong to a normal person. Scott had learned in that quiet, unspoken way that everyone else in town did was that it was best to ignore certain…unique aspects of a specific segment of Wolf Lake's population, namely the ones who lived on The Hill. Scott tried to apologize, but all he managed was a rasping sound like some broken squeaky toy.
From Scott's point-of-view the man looked about nine feet tall even if he was in fact only five foot six and technically a bit shorter than the teenager. Even so the miniscule difference was negligible when the man reached down, grabbed Scott by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, spinning him around and slamming him down on the hood of the car. Scott looked around, by now everyone on the street was aware of what happened and almost everyone was looking at him. Some looked concerned, though of course they made no move to interfere. A few looked somewhat satisfied, as though being pummeled into hamburger meat by this shaved gorilla in a black leather jacket was something he deserved for being so damn careless. There were those of course, those like Jackson Whitemore as he drove past his silver sport's car his dad had gotten him for his birthday who looked sad they couldn't stop and cheer the sedan's driver on. Scott locked eyes with Jackson for a moment as the older boy drove past, and could have sworn he saw him lick his chops like a dog staring at a big juicy raw steak. Jackson's companion, a long haired boy who didn't seem to have gotten the memo that the nineties had ended two years ago when it came to his hair style and fashion sense whooped and hollered his approval. To his credit, Jackson was a bit more dignified than that and allowed his bloodlust to smolder in eyes that almost seemed to glow with his contempt for Scott. The moment was done in an instant as Jackson sped past them.
What Scott wouldn't give to see Jackson go toe to toe with the beast-man before him. Being the Co-Captain of the football team with Luke Cates, Jackson was quite buff himself. The man currently holding Scott down on the hood of his car and jamming a finger in his face seemed to be as wide across the shoulder as his car was long and Scott was pretty sure he was half Sasquatch. Scott gasped and sputtered as the man made some horrifically probable threat involving showing Scott his own spine and then mailing his heart to his parents.
"My…parents…are…" Scott choked in an intake of breath. "…seperated."
It would later amaze those who he told the story to how despite the fact that Scott had desperately trying to apologize to the man for about one agonizingly long minute only to manage to spit out some totally irrelevant fact with the few breaths he managed to form into words. The hulk-beast's face twisted up into rage at the perceived smart ass remark, and his free hand curled up into a fist that he positioned directly over Scott's head. Scott had taken plenty of beatings before, but as he saw his attacker's eyes turn a feral glowing gold he knew with some certainty that his head was about to be popped like a grape that had been hit with a cinderblock.
"Benny." A voice said from the other side of the car said calmly, and perhaps with the tiniest hint of gloating authority. It was a easy and smooth voice that echoed both with power and a kind of ease that could only belong to a person who was perfectly at ease with his power and savored exercising it like a fine wine. "Calm down, it's just a dent."
Benny's eyes faded to their normal color, he looked up at the man standing in front of him.
"Let the kid up. There's no sense in you doing time for assaulting a minor on account of a minor traffic collision."
Benny looked down at Scott, who heard the bones in his still poised fist pop as he clenched it tighter. Though he did (reluctantly) take his hand off Scott and back away the boy got the distinct impression that he was now only angrier. Scott wondered if maybe the relatively quick death of being pounded into chunky mustard in front of God and everybody would be preferable to whatever Benny's obviously very angry and very unstable mind was cooking up at that very moment.
Scott managed to slide off the hood and stand, still wheezing and gasping. He clutched his chest, entire body shaking. He heard the soft click clack of Armani shoes against cracked road and looked up to see who had saved his ass. What he saw made fear clench his guts and sucked whatever air managed to creep into his weak lungs. His legs felt rubbery as Tyler Creed wheeled his damaged bike around to meet him. Despite his genial smile through perfect white teeth there was a look in Tyler's eye, like he wanted to eat Scott's liver with a nice Chianti and some fava beans.
Tyler Creed was a well known entrepreneur in Wolf Lake. A young man, he was barely twenty five but already he had made a considerable amount of money in real estate. To much money to be only working in real estate in fact. It was generally well known among the folks of Wolf Lake both on The Hill and off that Tyler had his hands in some…shady business. It was not quite as well known just what he was doing. According to Sheriff Stillinski however, some of his more interesting extracurricular activities were extortion, kidnapping, murder, drug running and prostitution. And that had just been what Stiles had been able to pick up while spying on his father.
Creed strode towards Scott like some slinking, overconfident panther. A jovial malevolence in his viper's eyes. He was dressed in the most expensive clothes a small town Al Capone Junior could buy and his hair was slicked up with so much gel that Scott imagined he could use it as a deadly bludgeoning weapon in a pinch. While Scott didn't know much about Tyler's life story and frankly didn't want to Tyler was something of a textbox example of a rags to riches tale if one told the variation regarding all the murder and back stabbing along the way, a prime example of bettering your social-economic status through flagrant disregard for the law and basic human morality. Like Scott, Tyler and his own mother had been abandoned by his father. Like Scott, Tyler had once worked every day of his life to help put food on the table for a family that was broke in more ways than financially.
Still, there was no question of which was in a position of dominance over the other today and these two had no interest in swapping old stories about absent fathers today. Now Scott was just trying to focus on making it through this encounter. It wasn't just the man's reputation that frightened Scott, though that had something to do with it, it was the man himself. Tyler exuded an aura of confidence and danger that cloaked him like a dark shroud. Every movement was carefully measured, every step graceful and easy. As he had clawed and bit his way up the hierarchy Tyler had crafted for himself a persona of someone who was so sure of himself that he could very well be invulnerable and inescapable. Some people found it to be insufferable but no less daunting. Tyler's elders and superiors found it hilariously transparent if not somewhat endearing in the way it reminded them of their youth. To most though it was a thoroughly intimidating display. To Scott, it was terrifying.
"You're ah…" Tyler snapped his finger, trying to remember where he had seen Scott from before. As he did so Scott took the time to extract his inhaler give himself two quick puffs to keep himself from passing out and then replaced. It kept him from asphyxiating on his feet, but he still panted and gasped. Tyler's eyes widened with realization and his smile changed a bit. "You're Vincent McCall's boy. Steve, isn't it."
Rather than correcting him, Scott waved a bit, managed a tiny choked hello.
"I'm Tyler Creed." Scott nodded, smiled a bit though it was forced. "I knew your father back when he worked with Willard."
Scott flinched a bit as Tyler mentioned knowing his father. Tyler noticed, he seemed amused by it.
"Tough break kid, your dad skipping town on you." Tyler leaned Scott's bike against the car and placed a hand on Scott's shoulder. "How are things going?" Tyler's voice was like the beautiful calm of the ocean. Its seemingly glassy, temperate surface hid hungry sharks circling beneath. Creed wasn't the kind of person who stopped to chat with every fatherless kid in Wolf Lake, even one his flunky had been about two heartbeats away from pulverizing.
"Things are…going." Scott said.
"Yeah, I hear you." Tyler said with a chuckle. "Look, uh, there's no need to tell anyone about this, huh?" They were surrounded by witnesses and Tyler's car was blocking traffic but Scott was not about to argue with the man. Tyler patted Scott's shoulder in some mocking parody of a fatherly gesture and as Scott slipped his inhaler back into his pocket Tyler's hand followed. A green, suspiciously rectangular piece of paper following glided in after his inhaler as if by magic. "Look, Stevey… if you're ever looking to make some extra cash why don't you give me a call I'm sure I could find something for a healthy young man for you to do."
Scott wheezed in response.
Tyler found this amusing too.
"I already have a job." Scott managed, though every breath was labored he was speaking somewhat normally. Behind him, Benny's knuckles cracked. Scott managed a weak smile. "Sorry."
"Well, if you ever want to make some real money." Tyler handed Scott a card, which he pocketed. "Call this number, ask for Bianca. She'll let me know you're interested and I'll have one of my boys set you up for a job."
"Wow, thanks Mr. Creed." Scott said. 'Thanks, but I'm not sure my mom would be okay with me being a drug mule.'
Tyler smiled down at Scott, and turned to walk back to his car. Scott grabbed his bike and beat as hasty retreat, Benny's eyes glaring holes in his back as he fled.
"What the hell was that?" Tyler demanded as Benny drove him the rest of the way to their destination.
"Sorry boss." Benny said quietly.
"I don't want to see you loose your shit in public again, you hear me? The last thing I need to deal with is you caving in some ungulate runt's skull in in front of half the town you stupid goon."
"Sorry boss." Benny's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"I have enough trouble as it is with that fucking Sheriff sticking his snout in my business, I can't turn around without him in my face. He knows who you are and that you work for me, he probably has a pretty good idea of what you do for me too. So learn some self control you jackass."
"Sorry boss." Benny swallowed hard, his ears burning. Cheeks turning red.
"I am this close. This close to the throne. I can practically taste it, what I don't need is any of you" you glared at the rearview mirror, at the two people sitting in the back seat. "any of you fucking it up now." Tyler sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fucking morons."
"You should have just stuffed the kid in the trunk." Brian opined from directly behind him. "Could have used the snack."
Tyler thought for a moment then shrugged.
"Nah, killing the kid a year after I killed his father and made it look like he ran out on him is probably bad karma or something. I don't need the jinx." Tyler said jokingly. Everyone in the car chuckled but Benny.
The black sedan sped away from the town, heading towards the Cates' mansion and Tyler's prize.
You know, this certainly should be longer as it stands it's basically a scene. I originally intended for it to be longer, but considering how long I took to rewrite this chapter and how damn happy I am with the thing I figured I could put it up. As you read this, I'm probably working on chapter three which I promise will be longer.
Until then.