A/N: For those not familiar with my works, I sometimes like to put characters in different situations and watch the madness unfold. This fic is another such example of that. Enjoy!

It was a cold, cloudy fall night in New York City, but that didn't put a damper on the hustle and bustle of the crowds. In fact, they were more than eager to enjoy the nightlife, hitting up the bevy of nightspots that the Big Apple had to offer. Ian's Bar & Grill was no less jumpin' than any others. In operation since the early 1930s, Ian's was known for giving out free hot dogs with every purchase. Thus far, people were eating and drinking as merrily as they could be, not caring what tomorrow brought so long as they were having fun today.

However, that was all about to change. As he sat in the corner, sipping a Stella Artois, Joe Dexter was about to undergo a most terrifying transformation, though his waif-like frame and pale skin wouldn't have easily given that away. With the moon shining brightly on his glass, he groaned and screamed as his muscles bulked up, he grew hair all over his body, and – most importantly – he grew more caniform features. In short, Joe Dexter had become a werewolf, and the patrons of Ian's took notice almost immediately:

"What the hell…!?"

"OH MY GOD, HE'S A WEREWOLF!"

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

"ANARCHY IN NYC!"

Patrons and employees alike scrambled to leave the bar and hopefully not become werewolf food on the way out, though some attempted to hide in the bathrooms, hoping to ride out the storm until Dexter changed back into a human, and some attempted to defend against him with their Quirks. However, those that chose to flee the bar mainly ganged up on the front door, not only slowing down the evacuation, but also allowing ample time for Dexter to get a few kills, starting with a hapless young lady who got her spinal cord ripped out through her skin. Similarly, the people with Quirks didn't have powerful enough Quirks to take him down and were also sliced to bits. Some people had called the police to report the incident, but that was largely unnecessary, for one of the NYPD's famous blue-and-white RMPs was in the vicinity when people were escaping the bedlam. Immediately, Officer Ben Brankovic flipped on the cruiser's lights, and him and Officer Luca Vinci hopped out with their service pistols drawn, Vinci also grabbing the radio mic.

"North-David to Central," said Vinci, a black-haired officer of average height and build.

"North-David K," said the dispatcher.

"Central, we got a bunch of people fleein' Ian's Bar & Grill, address 627 9th Ave. I…oh shit! Central, we got a werewolf down here! Get the Ghoul Unit immediately!"

"10-4. North-Squad-11, 10-13-U, North-David reports a 10-35W, address 627 9th Ave."

"10-4, Central."

Brankovic and Vinci used their car as cover, and Vinci grabbed the Ithaca 37 shotgun from the dashboard for extra firepower. However, shooting Dexter not only had no effect, but also got him even angrier and caused him to go after the two MOS.

"Oh shit!" exclaimed Brankovic, a fat redhead. "LUCA, GET IN!"

Brankovic and Vinci scrambled to get in the RMP, hoping that it would offer additional protection from Dexter. However, Dexter simply smashed through one of the windows and took some swipes at Brankovic, who was out of arm's reach…for now. Him and Vinci fired a few more shots at Dexter, hoping to deter the werewolf from further attacks. The two officers prayed that North-Squad-11 would get there soon before they were added to the growing list of officers whose watch ended too soon.

Just when all seemed lost, a Matador Red 1972 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency sedan with a red Fireball light atop a white vinyl roof pulled up. Out of the car stepped Detective 2nd Grade Shoto Todoroki of the Supernatural Crimes Unit. Dressed in a Judas Priest British Steel T-shirt, olive green M65 field jacket, blue jeans and black leather "McNamara" combat boots, he didn't look much like an NYPD detective, but appearances were deceiving. He drew a Smith & Wesson Model 29 from under his jacket, and with careful aim, he fired a shot right through Dexter's head, thereby stopping the werewolf's rampage and saving Brankovic and Vinci's lives. Todoroki hurried over to their police car.

"How are you two doing?" asked Todoroki. "Have either of you been injured?"

Brankovic shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine, but man, another few seconds and that asshole woulda had us!"

"Yeah, we owe ya one, Two-Face!" said Vinci.

Todoroki nodded. He holstered his revolver, went back to his Oldsmobile and grabbed the mic for his car's police radio.

"North-Squad-11 to Central," said Todoroki.

"North-Squad-11 K."

"Central, I have multiple casualties down here. You'd better get a meat wagon immediately."

"10-4."

Having radioed in, Todoroki walked over to whatever was left of the bar and took a look at the carnage. No matter how many vampires, werewolves, zombies or other supernatural suspects he eliminated, he never got used to the sight of their victims. There were a couple of survivors amongst the corpses, desperately trying to claw their way to safety. Unable to let their suffering prolong, Todoroki drew an Uzi that was attached to a DeSantis rig beneath his jacket and ended their lives with a single shot each. Brankovic and Vinci, having recovered from their shock just enough to exit their vehicle, took notice…

"Jesus, man!" said Vinci. "Those were innocent civilians ya shot!"

"Had I allowed them to live, they too would've become werewolves," said Todoroki. "I couldn't allow them to suffer like that."

Brankovic and Vinci looked at each other. As much as they were willing to go along with whatever the NYPD had to offer, they would never be able to wrap their heads around how the Supernatural Crimes Unit – aka the "Ghoul Unit" – operated.

Criticism is gold. Negativity and nitpicking are pyrite.