Author's Note: Had a burst of creativity, and wrote this on the same day as 16, but decided to pace myself. Ack! *ducks thrown objects* But, I didn't get it all finished… just got a chunk of it done… sadly. I had the full intention of writing it all in one go, but… I don't know what happened. I've been watching the Van Helsing trailer, and so have been inspired ^_^
drowchild: Awesome? Many thanks. Gotta love the attitude, right? He's got all that bestial instinct and energy, and he's letting it out the only way he knows how… and I'm having far too much fun with it, lol. Glad you love the adapting they're all putting theirselves through… hmm, that made little to no sense. Ah well. Cliffhangers… gotta love 'em!
Graymoon74: Poor Tom, 'eh? He likes to jump in headfirst… sigh. Will he ever learn? Hope the storm added tension… that was what I was going for. Captured and tortured? … Me? Never… would I? *sly smile* *quickly wipes smile off face* I'm saying nothing. You like Sebastian? Hey, I don't hate you… that's kinda cool. You're the only one… but someone's gotta like him… right?
angelic katty: I'm sure she does as well. Shame Tommy-Boy can't see that.
LotRseer3350: Wow? Thanks! Very kind of you to say that… perhaps too kind, but I thank you anyway. Glad I'm welcomed back. Hope this was fast enough for you.
Sethoz: Wow, calm down there, Sethoz. Don't overly-lavish me with compliments, cuz it wasn't all that amazing. I had to do the silver eyes at one point… I just had to. The temptation was too great! Hehehehe, ah yes, the 'bored' werewolves… then, hello, gun! Mwahahaha! Kicking the door down was your favourite bit? Cool. Glad you liked. Every hero has to do that… right? Isn't it like a rule or something? A trap… oh my, did you see that coming by any chance? Wasn't too obvious was it? ; ) Argh, I know that quote from the film but I can't bloody place it! : ( Darn it… sigh, now I'll have to watch it again… what a shame : )
Rogue Sparrow: He's cool anyway, but add a touch of lycanthropy, and BAM, uber-coolness! Lol.
Melanie: You love me…? Aw, thanks… don't hear that much. And I'm very glad you love it. And don't worry, I've got the Ghosts of Old chapter open right now, and I'm working on it *clacks on keys* See? I am trying! Please don't hurt me! Good instinct about the vampire-werewolf distrust thing too. ^_^
Silversnow: Welcome to the story, my friend! A werewolf fight? Hmm… kinda inevitable, right? Lol. You might be disappointed in this chapter, but rest assured, I can only avoid one for so long.
NightinBelle: Hello there, and welcome. I'm so glad you love this, and that I can entertain and possibly make you happy. Very, very kind of you to say so. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and the ones to follow.
Thanks everyone! And now, for Chapter 17 of By The Light of The Moon…
The three werewolves threw themselves in seemingly predetermined directions as they dodged the dangerous projectile that exploded from the barrel of Sawyer's Winchester rifle. Falx threw herself agilely forward and down into a practised roll that she pulled off with astounding ease. Gladius and Lacertus leapt swiftly to their respective sides, and also rolled away. Lacertus leapt up against the wall like a cat, and rebounded off it, using it as leverage to propel himself forwards, at his target. A bullet zipped past his ear, narrowly missing him, even as his eyes flashed yellow.
Gladius skirted along the wall with astounding speed and ease, coming up alongside and behind Sawyer so that he could not back out the door through which he had entered. The fellow – free thinking – American answered the blockade by ramming the stock backwards and into Gladius' shoulder with a resounding thud. He snarled, loudly, and used Falx's pounce to reach forward and tear the gun from Sawyer's hands.
Falx ploughed bodily into Sawyer, and rammed him back, just as Lacertus slammed into him from the left and knocked him off balance in that direction. Gladius simply regarded the weapon, before tossing it aside in a nonplussed manner, and leaping into the action himself with a carefree expression of indifference.
Sawyer lashed out with hands and feet, catching the three other werewolves in the face, legs and abdomen, seemingly to no affect. They worked on pinning him to the ground, but he gave a yell of frustration, and heard it finish off as a kind of roar, loud and intimidating… normally.
Gladius punched him in the face, hard across the jaw, snapping his head to the side and stunning him with the power behind the blow, even as Lacertus twined his fingers in the blonde curls of hair, damp and limp from the rain, as Falx reached inside her inner jacket pocket.
Though he struggled vehemently, almost admirably, Sawyer was unable to remove himself from the pin, and felt the lycanthropy starting to rise as his rage bubbled to a dangerous level. He growled loudly, the sound bubbling up from his throat and through his gritted teeth as he grabbed blindly at his attackers.
Falx pulled a syringe from her jacket, and a small bottle, one of her knees pressed down firmly on Sawyer's waist, even as he struggled. Gladius took hold of his jaw ruthlessly, gripping tightly and making the younger man wince.
She quickly and with precision, filled the needle, checking there was no air in the liquid, before using the grip Gladius had on Sawyer to inject it into the side of his neck, hearing him give a slight cry… she was being less than gentle. She smiled cruelly as his struggles started to lessen, and his lycanthropic strength failed him.
He started to lose grip on Lacertus and Gladius, and one of his hands fell away from the shirt of the latter, who released Sawyer's jaw. Lacertus loosened his fingers from Sawyer's hair, and stood from his pinning position, easily prying the other man's hand from his jacket. Gladius rose to his feet, even as Sawyer's eyes closed, and he slumped entirely into drugged unconsciousness.
Falx, Gladius and Lacertus exchanged subtlely triumphant gazes, and then turned from the defeated American Agent, intent of reporting their success to Sebastian Woods.
Sebastian looked up from his paperwork when Falx, Gladius and Lacertus strode in confidently, with only slight signs of struggle. They were all in one piece, and none of them showed any signs of recent transformation… and Sebastian and the others had heard the gunshot.
"Do we have him?"
"Yes, sir," came the slightly gloating tone of Gladius. To be truthful, Sebastian was starting to forget what it was that the other two sounded like… not that he cared. Silent and obedient was just how he liked his soldiers.
"Excellent. You know what to do with him. Mannings, take a team and lend a hand. The drug should suppress the change for a few hours yet." Sebastian had looked back down at his paperwork through his spectacles by this point, and felt more than saw Mannings' hesitation, disregarding it entirely. If the man was afraid, then he was really in the wrong organisation. He knew their job well enough, and should have grown accustomed to it by now.
He heard the men leave, and woman respectively, and let the pleased smile slip across his face, slowly but surely. It had taken less time than he had hoped, or planned… not that he minded at all. It was actually quite favourable.
Not long now…
Her head turned to the side, and she groaned quietly, pain swimming lingeringly at the rear of her skull, where she had slammed it against something solid earlier. She opened her eyes slowly, and saw Dmitri lying on his stomach across the… they were in a cage, a rather large formidable cage from the looks of it. She rose into a sitting position, reaching back with her hand and feeling the wound beneath the hair. It was closing up already, thankfully. The last thing she wanted or needed was a concussion.
She whispered harshly to her unconscious friend, hoping to rouse him by calling his name… to no avail. He simply lay there, still breathing, but unaware of the world around him, or their dilemma.
That was when she heard the slight clanging of chain, and she turned her head in the other direction, cursing audibly in French, "Merde…"
Towards the middle of the room, a kind of frame had been set up, two long thick bars of strong metal were fixed firmly to the floor and ceiling respectively, with one crossing over the middle about seven feet up on either side. Hanging from the bar were leather straps and chains, twined together to reinforce. From the very bottoms of the poles were identical restraints, though with shorter reach. Also hanging down from the middle bar up above, between the chain and leather straps, was a kind of… she couldn't tell what it was made of, but it stretched down further than the other restraints.
Following all of the restraints along to their cuffs and buckles, the form hanging limply – clearly in the grips of unconsciousness – from them, was Tom Sawyer. He looked unharmed, and mostly untouched, save for the binding of his ankles and wrists – and even bound around the forearm near to his elbow by the leather restraints – by both chain and strap. The final restraint was looped around his neck, a kind of collar, Anise noted with a snarl. She could see, though his head was bowed, that he was gagged, at least for now… he was utterly trapped in the frame.
But somehow, Anise had the impression that Tom would far from accept such a capture when he woke up… far from it.
Tom had only been awake for about five minutes, having roused himself mostly by force from the drug-induced slumber. Now he was pulling with all his mustered strength on the chains and leather straps binding his hands and feet, though he was careful not to wrench his head back or forward, for fear of choking himself on the makeshift collar… which was probably the most infuriating thing about his restraint.
The leather bit into his bare wrists, and the manacles attached to the chains chafed his skin, but he bit down hard on the gag and gave another tug with all the force he could bring up, after only just regaining consciousness.
His instinct upon waking had been to transform and literally tear himself from the frame that had been set up, but upon trying… it had quickly been discovered that he could not. The drug the woman had given him… he surmised it had not only been intended to render him unconscious, but also take away that ability. His strength was less than it should have been as well, and he felt oddly put off by the fact that he was more or less back to his old self.
His hair was in his eyes as he glared pointedly at the three who had overwhelmed him, and he noticed that the more imposing of the two men was spinning Tom's own Winchester in his hands, over and over again, almost teasingly. Their expressions were eerily blank, and they simply stared back at him, as if watching and waiting to see if he could break away from the trappings.
Tom growled into the thick cloth, and clenched his fists, giving a mighty tug on his left ankle, hearing chain clatter against the frame, fixed rigidly against the floor and ceiling. The leather creaked as he fought against it, and he was soon panting from the exertion.
But on the plus side… he had found Anise, and she was alive. She was watching him with clear concern from the far corner, in the very cage where the three other werewolves had been waiting for him upon his arrival.
I should have waited for the League; brought them with me, he thought, shifting his feet slightly on the floor. He had noticed they had removed his jacket, but left him otherwise fully clothed, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. Whether or not to be concerned or grateful… no, not grateful. He wasn't sure what to make of it, that was all. Instead of concerning himself with something so inconsequential and trivial, he gave another great thrash against the restraints, growling into the fabric of the gag, and closing his eyes with the exertion.
The click of the newly – and rather swiftly – replaced door opening diverted his attention for just a moment, and he tugged on the chains and straps again, before raising his eyes to glance at the new arrival… he instantly froze, recognising the man. He had seen him before, a few times, and when he looked once again to the gathered trio of werewolves in their human shapes, he realised he had seen the one twirling his Winchester before… though the man's name escaped him.
Sebastian Woods… that was the name of this other man, wearing the expensive suit and a cocky smile, even as he strode right up to Tom and pulled the gag clean from his mouth without breaking stride. He took an instinctual step back, even as Tom tried to break free again, infuriated by the revelation as to the man's identity.
His eyes locked firmly with the fellow American, and he scowled, saying simply, "You… you did all this."
"Hello to you too, Agent Sawyer," Woods returned, regarding the cloth gag in his hands before discarding it to one side with a casual throw. Tom shifted on one foot, wishing he had more slack so he could slam his boot into the bastard's knee. He was close enough for it; Tom just didn't have enough movement.
In all the time he'd known Sebastian Woods – who was rather high up in the ranks of the Secret Service if Tom's memory served him correctly – the man had never seemed capable of something like this… something so… insane. He had always seemed a little detached from the system and its rules, but never had Tom conceived the man would create something like this. He knew the government was most definitely unaware of what was going on down here, in this building, so far from the Secret Service Headquarters.
Tom locked gazes with Woods, and narrowed his eyes accusingly, angrily, trying to will the transformation. Woods laughed, seeing the concentration on the young American's face. He nodded, even as he said, "Keep trying, Agent Sawyer… it'll wear off soon anyway."
Tom pushed it all back then… it was what Woods wanted. He could see the yearning in the man's cold eyes, and he fell suddenly silent. Woods regarded him for a moment, before a noise behind them distracted all attention. Many sets of eyes fell upon the youngest of the three werewolves, who touched a hand to his head, and closed his eyes tightly, hissing through his teeth and groaning.
"What did you do to them?" Tom asked, contemptuously. He looked to Woods, who did not take his eyes off the clearly pained young man across the room. He snapped his fingers at one of the other men, and gestured silently, looking back to Tom.
"I did what I had to. They're serving their country; it's what they signed up for after all… what you signed up for."
"You son of a bitch," Tom grumbled. "You're using them…"
Woods backhanded him, hard, across the face, but Tom simply shook it off and glared firmly at the older man. Woods turned his attention back on the young werewolf across the room, who was being approached by two of the men. The other lycanthropes beside him turned upon him, and Tom noticed the one he recognised cocked back the hammer on the Winchester. A growl resonated around the room.
Suddenly, the young man lashed out at the approaching men, who leapt back and away, avoiding the strikes. The woman surged forwards, gripping him tightly and slamming him against the wall, his back connecting with a resounding thud that made Tom wince. The youngest werewolf let out a cry, and allowed it to melt into a chilling mix of a growl and a bellow. Her hand latched tightly around his throat, and she threw a scolding glare at the two human men. They quickly scurried forward, and one pulled a needle from his pocket, filling it with precision and practised ease.
No matter how much the male werewolf struggled and roared his fury, he was soon injected, and his thrashing lessened, before he was heard to pant and seen to close his eyes calmly and slowly. He relaxed visibly, and when his eyes opened again, he was back to his nonchalant self.
Tom's head turned to Woods, who was glancing at him, head tilted to the side in a kind of mocking expression. "You see, Agent Sawyer… it is easier this way. They underwent a change… they're no longer the people who signed up to protect this country, but that doesn't mean we should discard them altogether. No." He shook his head. "I found a way to use the lycanthropy."
"For you own benefit," Tom snapped.
"Not exactly. I have this country's best interests at heart… believe me. She's failing, and I cannot allow that. Don't you see the decay and perversion all around you? It's a disease that will destroy America!"
"You're crazy!" Tom yelled at him, and thrashed against the restraints again, feeling a little more of the supernatural strength flood back into his bound limbs. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, tugging for all he was worth.
Wood simply watched, and glanced to the far corner, where Anise stood at the front of the cage, shutting off the view to Dmitri. The Russian was still unconscious, and Tom didn't dare think about what they may have done to him. He opened his eyes again, and stared to Woods, demanding, "Why did you kill her? You didn't need her… you didn't want her. Why?"
Woods laughed then, rather loudly. "Oh, why do you care, Sawyer? I've heard that you didn't exactly get along with the woman anyway, so why does it bother you that Falx and Gladius put her out of her misery?" He shrugged in an exaggerated fashion, and placed his hands in his pockets, carefree and feigning boredom, much to Tom's chagrin. "Now… you notice I granted you one… grace, shall we say?" He indicated the cage with a nod of his head. "She's still alive, isn't she? And the male. I could have easily had them disposed of, like the other… but I chose to spare them. I could have lured you here some other way, but… this just seemed more worthwhile somehow."
Tom was breathing heavily now, with the anger, and he wanted to give in to the lycanthropic side of the rage… but he knew that was what Woods wanted. He had just seen a perfect example of why he shouldn't give in. They had used it against the youngest – and so far unidentified – werewolf, who was now placid and expressionless. Their identities and memories had been wiped, clearly, and they were being controlled by some kind of drug… he just didn't know what.
"Where are my manners?" Woods inquired, mostly of himself, and chuckled quietly, half turning to regard his three 'soldiers'. He indicated them with a hand in turn as he spoke their names… no, they weren't names, they were titles. "Falx-" – he pointed to the fiery haired woman who had injected Tom, her light eyes boring into the chained American – "Gladius-" – the man spinning the gun again inclined his head slightly, clearly filled with brutal strength and loving every minute – "and young Lacertus." The last was the one who had seemingly come out of his stupor momentarily not long ago, and he simply blinked, slow and casual. His brown eyes watched Tom lazily, looking through black bangs of curled hair.
All three wore jet-black clothing, from their clearly steel-toe-capped boots, to their cloth dusters of varying lengths. Three sets of equally nonplussed eyes gazed at him, somewhat eagerly and hungrily. A subtle shiver ran up and down his spine once, before Woods' voice brought him crashing back out of his reverie, "And, of course, I'm sure you've figured out, that three will soon become four."
Tom shook his head vehemently. "No… I won't. I won't kill innocent people for you and your sick intentions…"
Woods sighed dramatically, and rolled his eyes. "Damn you young agents and your morals! You don't understand the danger; can't possibly comprehend the urgency. You're too volatile – just like them – to deal with this, and have to be made to see reason."
"By being drugged and brainwashed?"
"If that what it takes to save this country, then yes, so be it! I've already sacrificed more than you know to try and get this programme to work, and I won't let you or your whore destroy it!"
A slight growl rose up into Tom's throat, but he choked it back, seething with rage, and never removing his icy gaze from the man who had insulted Anise. Over in the corner, she simply lifted her chin slightly, trying to show she would not allow herself to be put down by the man. Tom respected her for that.
"Whether you like it or not, Sawyer, you will complete this organisation. More worthy candidates than you were sacrificed to perfect the programme, and I won't let you simply refuse. It's not that easy. I've worked too long and too hard to have some hot-headed child like you deny me the chance I have been fighting for in order to save this country."
"You're not trying to save this country. You're power crazed, Woods, and you know it."
Tom received a fist in the stomach for that comment, just about knocking the wind out of him, before Woods followed up with a firm punch to the jaw, and then another.
Anise called his name, only to go without reward of reply. Tom refused to make a sound, other than slight gasps as the air was slammed out of his lungs from another blow.
"C'mon, Sawyer… I know you're angry," Woods grumbled to him, practically down his ear, as he punched him again, harder. Tom grunted, clamping his eyes closed as Woods persisted, "Why hold back? You know you want to hurt me, so what's stopping you? She wants you to… she's worried." Woods slammed his fist into Tom's stomach again, and then backhanded him across the face. "Maybe I should just start beating her instead? Would that get a reaction out of you?"
Tom growled, loudly, the rumbling snarl seeping forth from his throat as he glared harshly back at Woods, eyes narrowed in a threat, accompanied by the dangerous grumbling.
"Atta boy…" Woods said quietly, and smiled crookedly. "I knew it was in there somewhere."
Don't give in to him… he's trying to trick you. The lupine bestial urges deep inside fought against the reason at the front of his mind, tearing into it and forcing it back and to the rear, the anger emerging and making him grimace furiously.
Woods reached out a hand for something, and one of his men passed him an elongated metallic rod, which he passed from hand to hand. He stared at Tom, and then walked away, over towards the cage, where Anise did not waver or draw away from the bars. She simply set her jaw in defiance, moments before Woods rammed the rod through the opening, and into her stomach, and she screamed, knees weakening visibly.
"No, leave her alone!" Tom yelled frantically, tugging and thrashing desperately against the bonds to try and free himself, his anger building by the second, doubling and building into a crescendo, even as Woods caused Anise to let out a scream of agony again. Tom didn't know what Woods was doing to her… he just knew he had to stop him, any way he knew.
That was when he felt it, almost like a burden lifted from within him, and he let out a loud threatening growl of bestial anger, releasing the tension in his limbs into the transformation, his strength flooding back into him like water bursting from a broken dam. The growl rose into a roar, and he gave a mighty tug against the restraints on his left wrist and arm, tearing them completely from the frame with a crash and a snap, the bar overhead rattling worryingly.
The three simply watched with intrigue, cocking their heads and never betraying their emotions.
The other men instantly surged into action, even as Woods turned from his torturing Anise – who slumped back into the cage, panting and clutching at her abdomen as she watched with horror what was happening to Tom – and smiled broadly.
"There it is! I knew it was in there somewhere… I knew you couldn't hold it back forever."
Tom didn't hear him, was too busy forcing the transformation up, even as he let out another roar, and felt his ribcage start to shift. A loud crack was heard, before one of the men bellowed for the three werewolves to help him. He was trying to hold Tom back, to no avail. Tom gave a jerk on his freed arm, and sent the man tumbling pathetically to the floor with a yelp. The restraints around his right ankle gave, the frame rattling again, and Tom snarled once more, loud and furious.
A strong hand latched around his throat, squeezing slightly, and forcing his head up and back, even as he gritted his teeth against it, trying to free his other limbs, the strain obvious in his muscles. Another hand gripped his freed arm, and tightened ruthlessly, threatening to snap bone if he didn't desist in his thrashing and struggling. He paid no heed to it, and the final hand rammed into his abdomen as a fist. He barely felt it, but it was enough to jar him both physically and mentally. Sounds and images from the surroundings started to filter into his raging mind, and he growled again, even as he heard Woods shouting orders.
Stop… this is wrong, this is what they wanted!
Again, it was forced back, and moments after, he felt the needle force into his neck from behind, and he winced, before whatever was in the syringe plunged into him, and he instantly started to feel his awareness slipping away. And it wasn't that the strength was being drained like before… he no longer felt compelled to use it. It receded, and his struggles lessened considerably, his breathing becoming more relaxed.
Falx was the first to release him, her hand falling from his neck as she stepped back. Gladius let go of his freed arm, which fell to his side. Lacertus – who had been the one to punch him – stayed close, but not intrusively so, even as Tom's head hung as much as it could with the collar strapped around his neck.
Woods stalked over slowly, and steadily, tossing the rod to one of his men, and pulled up Tom's head by his hair, seeing the glazed expression on his face, the blankness in his normally bright green eyes. He gave no resistance, and looked right into Woods' gaze, even as the older man said sternly, "Exuro." He released Tom's hair, slowly but surely, and the head stayed where it had been placed.
There was a long silence, and Woods signalled for his men to release the remaining restraints. They did so hesitantly, but without complaint, and unlocked the chain manacles, loosening and freeing Tom of the leather straps, before removing the makeshift collar. The now unresisting American stood silently and without protest in front of Woods, much to the shock and dismay of Anise, who tried calling his name. He did not react.
"Someone shut her up," Woods ordered sternly, never removing his eyes from Tom's. Falx and Gladius moved off to do just that. There was an abrupt yell, and then everything fell quiet again. Once more, Tom did not move. "Exuro," he repeated, firmly and clearly.
This time, Tom lowered his eyes, a clear submissive movement, averting his previously challenging gaze. He stared down lower, his head slightly bowed in recognition of Woods' superiority.
Woods allowed the satisfied smile to rise onto his features, and nodded to Lacertus, who inclined his head slightly as acknowledgement to the silent order. With that, Woods left the room.
When the blonde head rose again, it was not Tom Sawyer… it was Exuro.