"So you've got your walkie talkie right," Stiles leaned over the back of the driver's seat. He could tell even from a side profile that Derek was giving him a 'look' with his overly expressive dark eyebrows. Stiles chose to ignore it, looking at Peter. "And you've got yours. And you're both sure Talia and Gramma have their one walkie talkie, which by the way, I disagree with, because if they get separated we're cu-"
"We have really good hearing, Stiles," Peter interjected, putting up his hand inches from Stiles' face. "Trust me, we'll be fine."
Stiles slunk back into the backseat, looking discouraged as he thumbed through his apps and opened angry birds. With an angry mumble, he said, "Fine, tell me when we're there."
They rode in semi-tense silence for a few minutes before the car slowed and Derek parked.
It was an extremely dark night. They had to go at night, given that their mission was time sensitive. But it made it difficult for Stiles to maneuver around, even though the other two didn't seem to have a problem.
"We're going to have to walk, they'll be able to hear us if we don't." He said, and motioned for them to get out of the car. Stiles slid out and shut the door, glancing at his phone. Yep, he had lost his signal. This is why they needed the walkie talkies - they had absolutely zero communication once they were separated without them. He sensed Derek was staring, and he glanced up. The other was staring at him with a penetrating gaze.
"What?" Stiles said, eyebrow raising curiously. "What'd I do?"
"You weren't wearing your seat belt." Derek stated in cold disbelief, and then crossed his arms over his chest. Stiles opened his mouth, but as he struggled to grasp an explanation, he found himself without one. He actually hadn't realized he didn't wear one, and being that he was in the back seat, he didn't think anyone would care. Besides, they were going on what was possibly a death mission, he really didn't think he had to worry about car safety at this point. Since he had made such a huge deal about seat belt safety, he really felt like a fool. Yet, he could have sworn there was a smirk on Derek's face - even though he looked betrayed, he seemed to find it humorous.
"Are you two over there making out," Peter called from the other side of the car, and motioned for the two to tag along. "We've got a ways to go."
Stiles trailed after Derek as the other shook his head and started off through the woods. He tried to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from talking, because he wasn't exactly sure who was watching from where, and he didn't want to blow this mission. The temptation arose every time he had to jog to catch up to Derek and Peter, because they were speed walking through the forest. He could just feel the complaint lingering on the tip of his tongue, but he refrained.
When they reached the grand abandoned building, he waited for Peter's cue to begin treading through the overgrown brush. Peter separated from them, scoping out the building exterior. Derek and Stiles headed for the back emergency exit door, which was solid steel and barred shut. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Derek put a finger on his own mouth, signaling him to shut it. Stiles put up his hands defensively, like he was trying to express how not offended he was when truly he wanted to call the taller guy a dick.
Derek ran his hand over one of the two steel bars, then gripped it and gave it a quick and angled tug. It popped off the side, almost inaudibly. He did the same with the second bar, and then laid both of them on the ground by the door. Then the other opened the door slowly, trying to prevent it from creaking from joints that desperately needed oiling. They crept their way inside. The darkness was so overpowering that Stiles couldn't see and tripped over his own foot. Derek's arm shot out and grabbed his arm before he fell. "What'd you trip on? You okay?"
"I'm fine, it's nothing," Stiles reassured him, though he was furious at himself. If he was going to trip, couldn't it be on something other than his own damn feet? He wasn't going to admit that. "Okay, let's keep going. There's a stairwell down and then another door, and we should get to the storage area. In the corner there's a door to the old electronics unit. The electrical panel is in there."
"Okay," Derek let go of Stiles' arm. The support had actually been somewhat comforting, considering he was pretty shaken up and they hadn't even run into anyone. He reached in his pocket to grab his walkie talkie, but didn't turn it on.
They found the old wooden doorway to the stairwell, obviously this area was where they had converted the original 1800s building into a new-age technology added functional one. Stiles followed Derek closely, figuring if he focused on the other's steps he wouldn't get distracted. When they reached the storage room, Derek put out his hand. "Wait, there's stuff all over the floor."
"What sort of stuff?" Stiles asked curiously, and Derek didn't reply. Instead he felt in the darkness fingers intertwining with his walkie-talkie free hand, gripping his hand. "Um, Derek, I can walk."
"No, there's papers everywhere. Just- we're holding hands until we're over the tripping hazard." Stiles blushed furiously, and didn't object. If he hadn't almost fallen on his face in a battle against gravity, maybe Derek wouldn't have to baby him. He let the other lead him through the mess, and indeed he did feel the clutter on the floor underfoot. Apparently this area hadn't been used in a long while - the papers smelled strongly of mildew and glue. The overpoweringly pungent old book smell polluted the air as they walked further in. Stiles heard another pop similar to the metallic one on the door from outside, and then another, and then a door opening. Derek's hand never left his.
"You can do that with one damn hand," Stiles said, not able to suppress the sound of envy in his tone.
"Yeah," Derek responded shortly, as if it was normal. He was led into the room.
In the darkness, Stiles finally realized he could have just used his phone to illuminate a path through the dark. He dropped Derek's hand and reached into his pocket, tugging out his phone and putting on the flashlight. His mind was distracted however, and he stood there staring at the dim little room in front of them. Even though he had a mission, he was thinking the hand-holding was something more, and it was actually kind of sweet Derek didn't want him to end up with a thousand paper cuts on paper that could probably have given him tetanus.
"Stiles," Derek said loudly, and Stiles jumped, gripping the phone and the walkie talkie.
"Yeah, right," Stiles commented as he stepped towards the electric panel on the wall. He switched on the walkie talkie. "Hey. Jackass, you there?"
He waited for a minute after switching it off, and suddenly a crackly response came in.
"Roger, Jackass to Grand Theft Auto, you copy me? In position. Tell me when. Over."
Stiles rolled his eyes, flipping the switch to speak, "Really? Grand Theft Auto? How long did you think on that one? Really clever." He looked at the panel, and motioned Derek over. It was locked. Derek gave another half-hearted tug to rip the door right off the panel.
The walkie talkie crackled again after a second, "Roger, GTA didn't say over. Over."
Stiles turned on the walkie talkie, frustration building steadily as he heatedly shot into the receiver, "Don't give me a hard time right now, I'm stressed out enough as it is. Fucking over. Wait, no, not over. Turn on the generator out there." He let go of the switch, then waited. He looked over at Derek, who was staring at the walkie talkie as well. "You think he pulled the switch?" He reached up and flicked some of the switches on the panel, and nothing happened. The familiar crackle began again from the walkie talkie.
"Roger, GTA needs to be clearer with his messages because I don't know when it's good to talk. It's live. Over."
Stiles passed off the phone and walkie talkie to Derek, then turned his full attention to the panel. "It can't be on. There's nothing going on." He flicked every switch, going up and down the panel.
"Roger," Derek started into the walkie talkie. "You sure we're good to go, because there's no response. Over."
"Roger," Peter responded, and then his tone changed as he said, "Well I figured this was going to happen, the generator lines are obviously dead. You know you can have back up generators but depending on what they're running on, which this one is gas, which is amazingly still half full, it's not going to do a damn thing if every circuit leading to it is corroded from age and weather. Over."
"Try it again," Derek said as he let the switch stay off, looking at Stiles. Stiles threw his hands up in the air, angry at his own plan.
"I mean, he's right, I should've thought- I mean, the generators were in a locked place outside, how can they not be- if the wires were outside, maybe...or maybe the explosion damaged the main circuit...wait," He said as he babbled, looking at the top of the circuit board. There was a prominent red switch, attached to an exposed wire. "Wait, that's. Okay," He said as he reached up, not thinking his decision through as he pressed the switched. A visible zap emitted from the board, barely missing Stiles as he stumbled back. The old building's lights slowly powered on, flickering.
"We don't have a lot of time, they're going to notice the lights," Derek hurriedly shoved the phone and walkie talkie to Stiles. Stiles looked on as the other disappeared out the door, closing it behind him.
"Hey, wait...you're supposed to be with me- wait! That's not part of the plan!" Stiles objected, walking over to the door. It wouldn't budge. He stared at the door dumbly for a moment, and then walked back over to the panel. There were several parts of it not labeled, so which ones were to the electric doors upstairs, he wouldn't know. Not only that, but if anything went live through the broken wires - they would be immersed right into an oven as the building went up. "Okay," He said to himself, turning on the walkie talkie. "Roger, grumpy has left the room. I repeat, grumpy has gone rouge. Tell me when you're in position, Mama Hale. Over." He turned it off, glancing at the door again. He could feel the fear sinking in when he didn't get a response from any of them. He read the few labels on the board - main room, bathrooms, corridors of various numbers. There were color coded switches, but what the colors meant he didn't know.
Suddenly the walkie talkie sprung to life. "This is Talia. Stiles, in position. Switch on the power." Stiles stared at the walkie talkie, and then cautiously lifted it to his mouth as he uttered out loud the creeping paranoia he had about making a mistake.
"Um, Talia...there's unlabeled switches, if I hit the wrong one the building could go up." He let go of the button, waiting for Talia to respond. It came back almost immediately.
"Stiles, they're coming. They know, lights are live - turn everything on NOW!"
He threw caution to the wind and flipped every switch on the board. He looked above him at the spider web rafters, watching the lights flicker on and off in an eerie way. With a sense of urgency, he walked over to the door and tried it, but it wouldn't budge. "Damnit Derek," He muttered, then looked up towards the vent. They didn't really need to use it now to enter the room, but if the places was on fire, he needed to get out of the windowless room in the basement. He put both the walkie talkie and phone in his pockets.
Positioning a sturdy table in front of the vent shaft, he stood on it and wiggled the vent cover with both hands. He felt something crawl on his hand, but at this point, he really needed it open. With great effort, he finally cracked it off the wall and threw it down, dusting his hands on his shirt immediately after. "Ew," He said with great disgust, and then looked up at the pitch black tunnel of a shaft. He knew it led upwards at some point; then there had to be a left and up, coming out into the hall they had come in. "I hate you so much right now, dude," Stiles muttered under his breath, knowing that the air circulation had been off for years and it was probably solid spider webs. He took out his phone, holding up the flashlight and heaved himself up as he went face first into the open hole.
The creak of the metal sounded loudly, but he couldn't pay attention to the aching walls of the ventilation system when he felt the thick sinewy webs press against his face. At first, his initial shock response was to sputter, but he didn't want to swallow an army of spiders so he kept his mouth shut and pressed on. He thudded through the man made cavern with great speed, wanting out so badly that he didn't care how much noise he made or who heard. When he finally reached the grate to the hall, he literally curled up into a ball and then kicked it so hard with his feet that it flew off the wall and hit the opposing one. He tumbled out onto the floor, coughing and shaking every limb with a wild fervor. He finally tore off his own shirt, throwing it on the floor. "Oh my god," he said out loud, no one around him. He could tell there was a growing heat in the hallway and the light bulbs in this hall were partially out. "That was the most disgusting thing I have ever fucking done. I am so done. I hate spiders. I hate spiders so much." He swatted at his neck, then ran his hands through his hair as he was certain he had them still crawling up and down his body.
He snapped out of his spidery panic when he heard footsteps behind him. He heard some unfamiliar voices, and saw the face of a young black male and a man who must have been his father being ushered through the hall by Gramma. "Gramma," Stiles said as she came towards him, but she waved for him to get out.
"Move, Stiles," She commanded, but even though her voice was powerful, it didn't stir Stiles to move. He watched the people run past, and Gramma turned to him and grabbed his bare arm. She was clearly prepared to physically drag him outside.
"No, wait- Derek, he's somewhere in there. I gotta find him." Gramma shook her head, but let go of Stiles' arm. She didn't realize her mistake and couldn't rectify it by the time Stiles bolted down the hall where she came from. He swung open the door and headed out into the newer part of the bank, looking through the smokey hallways with a cough. "Damn, something's on fire," He commented to himself, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a body on the floor. The lady who had thrown him at the Walcotts was beheaded on the floor. "Whoa." He froze, looking further down the hall. He could hear Talia's voice, faintly.
"It's over, Deucalion. I don't want to kill you but I will if you ever return here. Take Ennis and leave."
"I can't say I'm disappointed with this order, but I will be back. No matter what happens to me, Talia. Others are looking - you can't stop this!" Stiles heard the response, and he started running towards the end of the hall, heading to the main area. He threw open the door the rest of the way, looking in. There stood Talia, Derek and Peter, in a face off with the man. And what was more, Stiles saw why Derek didn't want him to face him- the whole group, exempt Talia, had transformed. And by transformed, Stiles could see the humanoid wolves now, their hairy distorted faces that vaguely resembled a human. He stumbled, grabbing out at a wall to keep himself up as he watched from behind the line of bank counters.
It happened too fast for him to see - the man with his cane had turned and started at Talia. Her body shifted into a wolf, as if her cells became fluid and just happened to manifest into this large majestic forest creature. The black wolf leaped at the opposing leader, ripping into him. The bald man - who must have been Ennis, considering he was the only one left in the room - he backed away, snarling. Peter took the chance to run at him, ripping into him. It was possibly more jarring than seeing a wolf go at a humanoid: seeing two of these misshaped people claw at each other was too surreal for him. He slid down the wall, not sure what he had bared witness to anymore. The sounds around him seemed to fade to a high pitch ringing noise as he put his hands over his ears, staring at the scene before him. He couldn't bring himself to look away from the blood bath. When the bodies of Deucalion and Ennis hit the floor, one's head torn off and the other's head punctured beyond repair, the Hales backed away. Once again they were human looking, though Stiles couldn't wash the image from his mind as he continued to look on in their direction. Derek looked towards the wall where Stiles had sunk down against, and he hurried over to the other.
"Stiles - what happened, where's your shirt." Stiles couldn't hear a word the other said, but he could see his mouth moving. He opened his mouth to reply, "I don't know," but he couldn't hear his own voice. Then he closed his eyes, feeling his body go limp as he let the faintness take him.
