Author's Note: So I was joking around with a buddy of mine about the idea of Wolfgang not being allowed to be anything other than a werewolf for Halloween, because come ON, and by the time we were done I'd practically written the synopsis for a whole episode, and here we are. Posting a chapter every day until HALLOWEEN! (And trust me, I'm still working on the last chapter for "Truth Cast in the Fresnel Lens", don't you worry about that! It's huge and it's COMING! :')

… … …

It started out like any other Halloween night.

Their gang assembled, supplies rigged as they rehearsed plans to mess up the kids that dared to be younger than them; anticipatory smirks shared under the shadows of their lifted masks. And of course, the notorious exploits of their co-leader, Wolfgang, were never far from earshot.

But it absolutely turned heads when he entered their hangout with blood dripping from his hands.

Claws, rather.

"Ooh, sweet costume, man," Ludwig nodded approvingly, eyeing the thin layer of dark fur running up his arms and framing his bloodied face in sharp angles, "mid-werewolf transformation?"

"You could say that," Wolfgang smirked, tightly.

"And the blood too? That's so sick, look at it—just dripping everywhere!"

"I know! It looks so fresh—you're like, totally splattered, man! Doesn't even look fake! Those little wussies are all gonna freak when they see you tonight."

"Oh," Wolfgang chuckled, the sound rasping in his chest as his teeth bared, "they so will."

A few faces fell as they took small, hesitant double-takes.

"Wow, Wolfgang," Edmund observed, his tone marveling and dimwitted, "your fangs just got bigger…"

"That's not the only thing that gets bigger," he leered back, triggering sniggers and joking howls around the room.

"Extending canines?" Ludwig crossed his arms incredulously. "Damn, pulling out all the stops tonight. I didn't even know they made those."

"They don't."

"Custom, huh? No kidding…"

Wolfgang's clawed, wet-red hands squelched when he punched a hand—claw, with his fist, his grin distended and vicious.

"Tonight, those little shits? They thought they had it bad before, but I'm gonna chew them up and spit them out. Things are gonna be different this time."

There was a low noise in the room, at first undetected over the din of sidebar conversation. But slowly, it built, like an aching, stretched squeak that grew to the point where some of the boys stopped talking, turning their heads to look for it.

Edmund didn't seem to notice.

"You know, actually" he droned, "that's really not so different from what you always do anyways, Wolfgang."

The sound was getting louder, and more of their posse went quiet to search for it, but Ludwig didn't notice, either.

"Haha, he's right," Ludwig snorted. "I mean, you smell like dog hair and eat 5th graders," he jabbed with a sardonic smirk. "What's changed?"

He didn't reply, the smirk never leaving his face as the noise finally grew to a volume no one could ignore; and whatever was making it, was starting to rip—

Wolfgang's frame began to swell and shift, and the whole gang jumped when his clawed feet blew out his shoes.

"The difference now… is that I also eat 6th graders…"