Oh my gods! I'm so sorry for neglecting this fiction, I've been meaning to write up a fourth chapter but I've been struck by so many other ideas whenever I say down to do so. This is me forcing out other ideas so please go easy on me if this bites (pun intended, Lolz).
By the time they came into the alleyway again it was already seven twenty five, five more minutes until the moon was up. John had been shaking his wrist and rubbing the flesh where the needle mark was in an almost anxious manner, as if that would get the drug out of his system.
"Did the files say anything about it being permanent?" He asked slowly, as if dancing his words around a mine field.
"From the information we got from one of the captured wolves, if it is accurate, then yes. It is permanent." Dorian sighed, an impressive feat for someone without lungs.
"Dammit." John hissed.
"Just don't look at the down side John." Dorian said.
"What's the down side?"
"If your body doesn't accept the drug it will kill you." Dorian said grimly.
John's eyes widened then narrowed in suspicion. "And what's the up side?"
"Enhanced senses. Stronger sense of smell, stronger vision, better agility. All topped off with speed."
"And the down side to that is being turned into a blood thirsty wolf being every month and sensitive hearing." John frowned deeper and looked at his watch. He took in a sharp breath and cursed silently. "Seven thirty. The moon will be up and bright as hell soon..."
"Relax John, everything will be fine. Help is coming."
"You called for backup an hour and a half ago, no one is coming."
"He is right." The French laced voice said close by.
"Fuck! Who the hell are you?" John looked into the shadows and bared his teeth.
"My name," the Frenchie chuckled slightly, "is Pierre."
"Show yourself, coward." John growled.
Dorian looked up, the moon was becoming visible, and took a few steps away. John hardly paid him any mind, still glaring into the shadows as if the held the answers.
"Just a minute." Pierre chuckled again.
John crossed his arms and looked up, bad move. When he saw the moon his pupils dilated, nearly making no room for the iris, and he let out a sharp, pained, yelp. His arms fell to his sides and he staggered back slightly, clawing at his chest.
Dorian watched helplessly and hid behind a car. John's fingernails grew into long, sharp claws and his hands turned a light silver colour. The colour slowly covered his whole body and greyish silver hair sprouted on his chest, shoulders, arms, legs, and the backs of his hands. His jaw morphed into a long snout.
His pupils reduced to a more regular size and the irises were a hazy grey colour. He was breathing deeply and looked like a man wolf, saliva dripping from his jaw. He growled darkly as another wolf creature emerged from the shadows.
"It's so great that your body accepted, I would have been skinned alive otherwise." He let out a short howling sound that resembled laughter. "The first transformation is always the hardest. So you're a silver?"
"Silver?" John's voice was deep and rough as if someone was running sandpaper over his words.
"Your wolf rank. There are six rankings. Red, the lowest rank, is the rank of the promoters. They wander the city and offer the injection to people. Brown is higher than red, they see to it that the red wolves do their jobs correctly, if a red wolf fails then the brown wolf can either kill him on the spot or bring him to the pack leader to be judged.
"Next is grey, they are the ones who tend to the needs of the higher ranked wolves. Silver is next, the fourth highest ranking. They get to go about their every day lives, with one condition."
"And that condition is?" John bared his teeth again.
"They must return to the pack when the leader needs them and they must help tend to him. White wolves are fifth, they are nearly as useless as silver wolves but they are almost as royal living as the leader. They do nothing."
"And the last rank?"
"Black. The black wolf is the leader of the pack. If another is created then they must fight to the death. Survivor is the new pack leader. So far that has never happened."
"What rank are you?"
"Red. The most useful rank." He sneered slightly. He shook his head slightly and fixed his red-orange gaze on John. "You are strong. Normally new wolves have an intense killing lust. They go on rampages through the city if the reds are nor careful."
"What do you mean careful?" John sat like a dog, fixing his grey glare on Pierre.
"Tranquillisers. Lots of tranquillisers." Pierre turned slightly. "You will be normal by morning. Take care, John." With that he ran off into the night, leaving John sitting in the street and Dorian hiding behind a car.
John snorted slightly and scratched his right ear with his right hand, as paw-like as it was. He turned to where Dorian was hiding. "I know you're there. I can smell you."
Dorian walked around the car and looked into John's eyes. "I know."
"Well?"
"I was able to contact backup. They should be here in less than an hour."
John nodded stiffly and stood up. He was at least nine feet tall, making him a good three feet taller than Dorian. "Good."
So I did a lot of web surfing for this chapter. I searched for pictures of all six wolves. There may be more types but to keep it simpler I only used six. Thanks for reading! Peace! ~Cat.
