The ride was silent, mostly to my part. Achillies tried starting conversation, but after a while, I think he found why I wasn't talking. I always got a little tense right before a mission. Achillies and I were a type of assasin. Usually for the paranormal. The mission we were on right now, for example. A werewolf had worked in a mantion, for his master. The man who owned the house, had changed the butler, into a werewolf. When the transformation hit, he started showing withdraws. The man who changed him, couldn't keep him under control; nor could he kill his butler, later on. The butler attacked his daughter, harming her severly. I didn't ask for details, gore wasn't what I wanted to know. Shortly after attacking his daughter, the man fled. Away from the house, and couldn't be found. This was a particularly easy job. All we had to do, was track him down, try to restore his sanity and or control. And if not, we killed him. And that was all. The guns were oh so necessary. I never went anywhere without my Browning. Never. For me, it was an act of nature, as simple as that. Achillies didn't carry his around too often. Not all the time at least, like I did. He was also a lot stronger than me, even in wolf form. He was basically, bigger and badder. But, non-the-less, even when I was around him; my Browning was with me too. With an extra .22 clip and an additional .44 Silver clip. A 'little' harder to shove into the gun at tricky moments but, I managed. Since this one was a newb, I already knew a coupla places to check at. If he wasn't there, it wouldn't take much more than a day for Achillies and I to smell him out. Literally. We'd had some tough ones before. But none that had 'really' hurt us. I might have gotten a scratch here, and nip there. Achillies might have fell. But, as I say, we are the best of the best. And we take care of the dirty problems like these. Sometimes, we even had to protect people from their creations. Actually, I really only prefurred killing them. I could barely even protect myself, much less someone other were or human. Getting attacked by one of their 6'7 230 pound mistake. Achillies put his hand on my knuckles, that were white on the wheel. I looked over at him, looking at his comfortable, 'everthing's going to be okay' face. And, like I said, I trusted him. I let some of tension roll off my fingers. Letting go of the wheel just a little bit. I let out a long breath, I hadn't realized I was holding. I glanced at the sign approaching us. Putting my foot down just a tad too abruptly. Stopping at a 'halt' more than an ease stop. Achillies gently reached behind him, clipping the seat belt silently. I didn't look at him, I just thought. I could take 'a' Werewolf down by myself. I just got very nervous at the last minute. Almost like angxiety. I didn't like it. It made me jumpy, and sometimes, unaware of what was happening around me. I'd rather be jumpy than unaware. With the jobs that we have, you don't wanna be unaware at the wrong moment. Some of the jobs we get are easy, and we can calm the new Were down. Sometimes they're just haywire. And there is no getting them back. That's when we took care of them. I didn't need to go to the mansion, I'd already gotten the information we needed. Which we didn't really necesarrilly need. If this was a Newb. I think I knew where he would have gone. I didn't live, technically 'close' to Texas. But, I had spent time there on another job. There was a bar on Wood's Creek Ave.. Like you might know, Texas is huge. But, in Bennington, it wasn't. It was a small, 'everyone knows everyone' kinda town. The roads were dirt, there were farms. The accents made you grind your teeth, kinda place. And there was only one bar. A place for wanna be bikers and rocked out punks. And, the occasoional werewolf. If he wasn't there, I'd be surprised. I parked in the far corner of one of the parking lots. This wasn't going to be hard. I could smell new wolf in there. Achillies smelled it too. "He's in there der wolfet." "I know, I can smell him." I saw him smile in the corner of my eye. I didn't smile back, I wasn't in the mood. I didn't like killing people. I didn't 'mind' it. But I didn't addore it. I don't even think Achillies thought about it anymore. He'd been through...so much. Did it even accure to him what he was ever doing? How could it not. I just thought it was weird how he didn't show any signs of emotional or physical pain, at taking away someone else's life. Well, after that someone else was on top of you, their claws trying to dig out your jugular. I don't know about you, but I don't like my throat in bloody shards. So, I guess I wouldn't mind blowing them away either, come to think of it. The building wasn't big. More like an old shack. With too much red and green. The shudders a blinding icky yellow. It looked nasty. The kind with the disgusting bathrooms, with the door off it's hinges, and the kind with holes in the wall, with creepy people behind them. I shuddered. I didn't like creepy people. And then with the writing on the walls, everywhere. And how you try to balance on the toilet seat with paper underneath you. I groaned, gross. I wasn't a neat freak, but I was sure as hell a clean freak. I squirted hand sanitizer on my hands, taking out my gun. "Oi, not yet der wolfet." I looked at him, realizing I was reloading the gun, without even thinking about it. And I was thinking about Achillies not realizing what he was doing. Um, can I say, reality check? I smiled, holding back my shakyness. "I'll go in first, talk to him. See if I can't get reasoning with him. You stay here, if I can't, I'll drag him out here. And we'll do it." He smiled. "You don't want me to accompany you, der wolfet?" "Stop calling me that, and I can handle it." I smiled shakily at him. "I can handle it." I said, more to me than him. I had done this a thousand times, with haywire werewolves. Most of them weren't newbs. Most of them were very scary bred and raised werewolves. And they wanted me in their claws. And that, my friend, is a thing that will scare the shit out of you. With no back up. Just you. Alone, with about 5 other werewolves. Doesn't sound bad? Oh, it's worse than that. I cringed, going over dead memories that should stay barried. He stopped smiling. "Alright, well let us get this over with." I managed a smile, both of us getting out. "If I smell or hear trouble I'll be in there in a heart's breath." I started walking toward the ugly yellow double doors. Without turning around I said over my shoulder. "You'll be in there in a what?" I heard him laugh, I smiled nervously. Putting my hands on the double bars. I had to lose all nervousness before I stepped into this building. They'd smell me. I slipped the Double Browning in the front of my pants. Taking a deep honest breath. The gun fit nicely in the front of my jeans. I had pressed tan dress pants on. A black lacy top, going to the low of my waiste. A silky white undershirt, beneath the unbuttoned black lace, over shirt. The undershirt clung to me, not having any sleeves, except for the delicate thin lace sleeve. Which wouldn't even be considered a sleeve, maybe just some left over fabric. The pants were tight at the waist and hips, and the bottom. But come out with silky tan cloth. Causing a little flare at the end of my boots, seeing only the tips of my thick black boots. Great for running. Maybe the outfit wasn't the greatest pick for hunting and killing a werewolf, but, I wanted to look nice for Achillies. My hair swung around the low of my waiste, hanging loosely around the hem of my lace shirt. I sprayed on Lilly after spray. For showers. I smelled fresh. Thinking of what I was wearing usually calmed me down. Achillies knew this, and never rushed me. I had a soft jaw line, with small ears, and medium sized almond shaped eyes. One eye was brown, the other was green. I had different color eyes. It was noticable, but not enough that I cared. I was 5'6 and with my boots I was 5'8 or so. My tan pants gave the appearance of long legs. So, I looked normally tall for a woman of 22. I was young, but I was strong. And I like that about myself. I worked out often for my figure, I weighed, last time I checked, about 126. I didn't really care about my weight, just as long as I was fit. And I was, and I worked for it. My long hair was pulled where the front was tightly in a clip, so it wouldn't hang in my face while I was working. I went over my shoulders and around my back. Swaying lightly when I walked. The only makeup I was wearing was black eyeliner at my top lids. And massacara. I had long lashes that exageratted my black and red hair. I had dark black hair, growing up with dark brown hair. I put in, unnoticable red streaks. That you could only see when I was in the light. More like auburn then red. I looked down at my hands, resting lightly on the bars. I didn't have tan skin. And I didn't look asian. Just my complexion is mis-interrprited for asian. I really had fair skin. Not exactly pale, my face was pale. But the rest of me was just, pleasantly fair. Which I could deal with, without caring. I cringed, thinking of all the people who touched the door before me. I sighed, closing my eyes and pushing open the doors. The first thing that hit me was scent of werewolf. Two at the billiards and three at the bar. These were all old werewolves. I swayed in, placing an arrogant sexy smile than my nervous one. I swayed my hips, putting one foot in front of the other. My hair did the sexy swing around my waiste. I lifted my chin, exposing my long fair neck. I pulled out my shoulders, pushing out my chest. Walking like a cat, it reminded me. I got everyman to turn his head. The place reaked of urin and old peanuts. I suddenly felt very dirty. I stopped in the middle of a huge cloud of smoke. Trying not to gag from cheak cigars, and too many Marlboros. Just as I suspected. Too much leather, too many chains, and people who needed to brush their shaggy white hair. Nasty smiles and disgusting sexual gestures that raised my senses to screaming. I smiled arrogantly. Putting the essance of 'you'll never be good enough for me.' I was dying in all of the smoke and horrible old peanut stench when I found him. Leaning up against the record player. In the very back of the room. In a shadow. There wasn't any music playing. I saw him sway to the left and I saw the drink in his hand. It takes a lot for wolves to get drunk. Almost enough to give a regular human alchol poisoning. He wasn't drunk. I smelled the air. It was him. He had only had three. Which wasn't enough for anything. Only to take away the horrible memories with the smell of...whiskky and burbon. I smiled at everyone. And some women. "Maybe another time boys." I swung my hips dramatically and whorishly over to Nathen. Still leaning against the record player. If he was good he would know I were behind him. I took off my glasses, putting them in my hair, like a head band. I gave him a moment. "Lillies." I caught him whispering. I smiled, maybe today I wouldn't have to kill anyone. "You smell like Lillies." He said it again a little louder. He didn't smell frantic. He smelled calm. Nathen was about 5'11 or so. He had short spike brown hair, that was down, and lazy. Like he hadn't tried spiking it in a coupla days. I imagined he hadn't. He smelled in deeply. I heard his lungs take in the oxygen. Expanding, and retracting. And I knew he could hear it too. Alot more than he normally could. He shoulders tenced for a moment. Then his back stiffened, he leaned more against the record player. "They've told me about you, ya know." I didn't say anything, I didn't move, I didn't breath. I didn't do anything. I let him say what he was going to say, hoping to God it wouldn't have to be his last. He sighed. "Ms. Hunter, last night a the full moon. I changed into a werewolf. I went to my home, where I live." He said she matter-o-factly. I still didn't know what to say. "At that time, I went through my back door, I ripped the chains off of my favorite Labrador, and I ripped him to pieces." I took a breath. I can see where that would be hard. His voice was calm, but still edgy. I couldn't tell what his motives were. Maybe the guy was just...genuanly upset? I mean, it is human. "I ripped his chains off, and I ripped him to pieces. If I had family, I would have ripped them to pieces also. Do you know what that feels like? Well, I suppose you do, don't you?" I sighed another slow cautious breath. "Yes, I do know what it feels like. And I also did the same you did." And in truth I did. I had a dog that I bought somewhat 4 years before the accident. I'd had it for a while. The first night I changed, I ripped my favorite dog apart. After that I threw up, wanting to hurt myself. Just around that time Achillies rolled around and picked me up. Heald me together ever since then. When I say he has my life in his hands, he has my life in his hands. Maybe I could help Nathen. He turned around, facing me. He wore an old Thrift store checkered shirt. It was ripped and torn to practical pieces. He had ripped blue jeans. And they were dirty as hell. Not the kind of jeans you buy at American Eagle that look dirty, and they have a rip or two in the knees. No, this was like he'd murdered a dog, and it struggled for it's life. Then right after he tried to salvage his clothes. Which he shouldn't have. He looked terrible. There were old crusty blood stains on his cheek. His hands were stained with dirt, and under his fingernails were mounds of thick blood and goo mixed under them. His eyes were tired. His body slumped. The bar glass looked tacky up against his filthyness. He had a very defined jaw line. He was fit. Muscular. More like a body guard than a butler, if you asked me. He leaned on the record player, with his elbows. Leaning his head forward to stare at me. "I ate him." His voice was rough. Like he'd been crying for a couple of hours, recently. His skin had scratch marks on it that weren't made by a dog, and weren't made by himelf. Made by a human. I looked him up and down. He was a really attractive man. Looked to be about 28 or younger. Probably around there though. I didn't ask for his age when I was getting information. I don't usually. He was apparently doing the same with me. He was tan, with dark brown eyes. Not small, but smaller than mine. He had a great smile, which I got a very brief preview of. He crossed his arms. Inspecting me. I put all my weight on one leg, kicking up the other, crossing my arms. "You're really pretty." I smiled. Okay, he wasn't suicidal or homicidal. That's a start. Just flurtacious. "Thank you." I flashed him my best smile. "You're pretty too." I joked with him, in a humorous tone. He laughed, bitterly. Looking down. He flung out his arms, his drink spilling just a little. Okay, I'm praying I wasn't wrong about him. "Do I, really?" I smiled, this time nervously. I waited a moment. He put down his arms, crossing them. Giving me a hurt, but honest look. His eyes and his facial expressions screamed pain. "I can help you." "No, you can't." I was shocked for a moment. He hadn't even waited a heartbeat. "Ya see, what I'm gunna do is." He put down his drink looking at me. "Is I am going to attack you outside. Right around then, your man outside with the sawed off rifle is going to come in seeing as I'm trying to rip your throat out. He is going to smell me. And he is going to shoot me. Clean and easy. And I won't get you dirty. Or at least try not to. Seeing as I am." He smiled. A bitter one. A clearly pain, angry, and bitter look. "Why." I said it softly, calmly. "Well, because I'm catholic." "So?" "So I can't commit suicide, so I'll just let you do the dirty work. I will not be a monster. I will not hurt innocent people. I will not harm the vulnerable. I will not eat them." He added emphasis to the 'eat' part of his speech. I smiled. "I can control you, I can teach you." "You're not getting it Ms Hunter. I donot want to learn. I donot want to harm people." He set down his glass, walking out the backdoor. Ignoring the huge cloud of musky smoke following behind him. I sighed. I didn't like this part. And he wasn't listening. He was still calm. How was I going to talk him out of this? I walked slowly out the back door hugging to my small Browning tightly. I said a silent prayer for Nathen. This wasn't right. But so many others I had done, weren't either. What made him so different. I walked into the clean air. The second I closed the door, he grabbed my back, thrusting me against the tree. He lifted me off the ground without the slightest bit of flinching. His face was calm. He wasn't tightly gripping my throat. He wasn't even trying. I hadn't caught what he was going to do. He was fast, check. He could smell me when we first drove up, check. He could smell Achillies all the way in the parking lot, check. He was strong like no other Newb wolf I've ever met, check. He's trying to get himself killed, check. "Scream Ms Hunter." My face started getting hot. I shook my head as much as I could. "Scream." His voice heald desperation as he put it down, staring at the ground. He looked back up at me. His eyes still brown, but now streaked with orange. He had tears going down his face, and his cheeks were flushed. "Please. Please let me go. Please." He just kept whispering please silently under his breath. Like a drowning man. Achillies was behind him in a heartbeat. He'd smelled him coming. He was frowning. I was still two feet off the ground. My feet dangling in the air. I felt my face prickle with heat. I felt it turning red and purple. He heald the gun out, and I shout out 'no' as much as I could manage. I saw Nathen smile, but Achillies didn't kill him. When I said no, his face turned from angry to relieved. He hit him in the back of the head with the gun handle. Nathen closed his eyes and sank to the ground. I fell with him. But Achillies caught me in one arm. While Nathen fell squarely against the tree. I couldn't help but breath hard. My hair had fallen from the clippy, rushing around my face in an angry strike. It was still straight as a board, thankfully. But now tangle where it had wound around the tree's bark. My arms had gotten scraped, but I didn't care. I swatted at Achillies to let me go. He sat me on my feet gengerly. I kneeled beside Nathen. Touching the blood that was oozing from the back of his head, from Achillies blow. "He'll be okay, why didn't you kill him?" "You told me not to wolfet." "Oh, good. Well, what should we do now?" "I don't know. What do you think?" "I don't know." We stood in silence for a while. Me brushing Nathen's dirty hair out of his face. Achillies stood, legs separated one hand holding the wrist of another. Like a bodyguard, would. "Maybe I should take him home, until he wakes up." "It won't be long little wolf." "I know. But until then, I can't just leave him here." Achillies grumbled. Finally he leaned down, taking Nathen in his arms, throwing him over one shoulder. "What are you doing?" He turned around, his muscles tensing. "Taking him to the car?" "Oh, well hold on a minute." "What?" Before I could answer him I ran back inside of the filthy bar. Coming out seconds later, record time. "What are you doing?" I had gone back in and got paper towels. "He's dirty." "You going to clean him?" I growled at him. He smiled, childishly. "No, I don't want it getting inside of my car." "We can put him in the trunk." He laughed to himself. I didn't find it funny. Now I really thought about what I'd done. What 'was' I going to do?