No-one had believed the old tales of the werewolves, a monstrous amalgamation of man and beast, coming from two different worlds, the normal and the supernatural and yet belonging in neither of them. For they were savage, no trace of humanity but too feral and rabid to be the rational equivalent of the pack animal.
People were stupidly naïve. And Foolish. And it cost them, it cost them everything.
The old world of magic died with the birth of the new, people became less superstitious as they hunted the creatures into extinction, save for the few that had the common sense to hide away from a world that would no longer tolerate them, whether they were good or bad.
The Vampires were the first to go, the most common of the supernatural species to attack humans, their need for blood drove them to carnal acts of violence in their pursuit of food. It was not their fault, instinct always overtook morality, the need for food, the need for shelter, the need for warmth and the need to mate.
Five primal instincts that drove everything, both human and monster shared that to the very depths of their DNA, the survival instinct, and yet humans had considered themselves above that and took it upon themselves to destroy anything that was a threat to them and their progeny.
It was a brutal war of extermination, the humans had used their desire for war and warfare against the beings higher than themselves. Had used their engines of war, inventions of the keenest minds, ships made of steel and driven by coal had wiped out the old kingdoms, invention and technology placing the humans smugly upon a false pedestal.
Then the wars happened. Wars of magnitude that the old things could do naught but watch, being caught in the crossfire. But no-one would ever talk about the werewolves that would prowl the ditches of no man's land, eating the dead, on the three nights of the month where the full moon would shine its brightest.
Or the Vampires that would snatch soldiers in the dead of night in the middle of the Ardennes forest, a forest stepped in the deepest of the ancient magic's, that drew all manner of creatures to its intoxicating essence, aghast that the sacredness of it was being defiled by the engines of war.
The old world, beaten down by centuries of persecution, accepted their fate of extinction, but not without setting in motion of the plan of revenge, if the old world were to burn then it would drag the new kicking and screaming into the eternal howling.
And as time pressed further on, the eternal howling became a myth for the few families of the old world that were left, fully assimilated into the new world, the normal world, the campaign of extermination was all but forgotten by the humans after years of war amongst themselves, all they desired, save for a few cold blooded politicians, was peace.
Places where the old and the new coexisted in harmony, as tense as it was, allowed those families to mingle with them.
But the screaming of the spilt blood of the past could not be sated, could not fade, could not be silenced.
The Ancient magic's were invoked and a single family was degreed to carry the result of that magic. For years. For decades. For centuries.
The name of that family? Forgotten, even by by the family that It was bestowed upon, the eternal howling whispered among the clans as a bedtime story, a fairytale, a myth.
That was until it wasn't and the new world burned screaming.
Wednesday examined the paper in which she held closely, the clacking of the typewriter had fallen silent. And all that was left was the deafening silence, carefully she hold punched the paper and opened a black binder before gently placing the new recording of her words into it.
She sighed as she flicked through the pages, a combination of drawings, hand written recordings and maps, so many maps, annotated with movements, nests, territory and red X's marking up to half of the map.
Wednesday wished the piece she had just wrote was from her imagination, but alas it was not, it was very and sometimes blindingly all too real. She felt her side for the comfort of a short silver sword, her heart relaxed a little as she felt the comfort of the weapon.
The clacking of her typewriter was what kept her sane in these dark times, some semblance of normal but instead of the adventures of Viper, it was now notes on how to survive, places she had been and places left to be discovered.
She studied the maps carefully, the binder lay flat open, two identical maps, one on either side of the binder, one with red X's and the other with big red circles, indicating territory, capital letters lay within the circles, Pack Designations, there was a key chart on the side, each letter had a number next to it, the estimated numbers of a pack in a particular territory.
She could never be certain, she would observe in discreet ways, in person was too dangerous, they would pick up her scent the moment she was anywhere near them. Instead she had rigged up makeshift security camera's in the day, when she was relatively safe.
These were not much better than camcorders rigged up to small portable solar battery banks. Multiple cameras set up in a single territory where a pack would hunt. Without humans to decimate them, the wildlife had flourished in the dozens. Retaking the cities that once kept them away.
Once a day she would visit a territory and retrieve the memory cards and correlate the recordings to estimate an average number in the pack. Currently, the territory closest to her had roughly a minimum of seven wolves. Not as big as it could get but still a challenge.
Wednesday closed the binder. Intending to update it later, the last glimmer of the summer sun was close to falling behind the horizon she stared in contemplation for a few seconds before pulling the cast iron doors into place behind the window, latching every bolt until it was secure in place, in the front of those doors were silver tipped barbed wire. Thankfully her defences hadn't been tested yet.
She wandered the house and did the same to both the front and back doors and any other window, the sun fell away as the final door fell shut with a clang, engulfing the house in darkness, sealing her away from the Eternal Howling.
It happened so fast, the end. The world was normal until suddenly everything just went to shit, from San Francisco came the isolated reports of animal attacks, sporadically, a month went by until suddenly the increase in attacks were in the hundreds, two more months went by and that number had increased exponentially, Soon San Francisco was filled with wolves that would hunt at night, slaughtering families.
A nationwide crisis was declared as month by month, the werewolf population increased tenfold, although Wednesday noticed, these wolves didn't revert to Human after a full moon. The national guard responded quickly, their guns and tanks were no match for the increasing werewolf population, not knowing silver was the key to putting down the dogs for good, at least until, it was too late.
For all their technology and craft, they were no match for the vengeance of the old world. The families of the old world too noticed, all too late, the signs of the Eternal Howling. And retreated into the wilderness, unwilling to shed blood for a world that had persecuted them. Safe in the bunkers that most of them now had.
Wednesday had lost everything, she was alone in this world, a savage reflection of the old, burning in the ashes and embers of the new. So she did what she could day to day, she studied, she scavenged making trips deep into the city, notebook and her maps in plastic coverings, in her backpack, marking off building after building as she scavenged, she didn't use a car, it would draw too much attention.
Whilst the wolves were active at night, and feral during the full moon, they remained docile in the day, secluded in their nests, made in the darkest of buildings that Wednesday would not venture until under dire circumstances only.
Finding canned food of any kind was a good day, finding canned food that wasn't expired was a great day, whether it was a one or three, it was a meal, and it meant another day alive, although Wednesday often pondered what the point of that was, there no were no people, not she liked them when they were alive but honestly she wished she cared a little more when they were alive
She carried her military bergen backpack, one she had salvaged from one of the many Military checkpoints in the city. Her Glock 19, filled with silver tipped rounds in a holster strapped to her right leg, bigger rifles would only slow her down, although she had contemplated on taking an MP5 for a better rate of fire, although she decided against it, her bigger guns were at home, just in case.
At this point she considered herself to be an expert hunter and tracker, the city round her barely ever changed so she knew when something was amiss.
Which she did.
Her Glock 19 was in her hand the moment she saw it for the first time, a door slashed in by claws, but these weren't typical wolf marks that she has noted before, they were usually erratic and wild, no these specific, like near the locks and handles of the doors and something that made her bones chill even more
They were recent.
The unsettled dust, the hastily thrown open cupboards and shelves and in some of these houses, recently eaten canned food, less than several days old, but the biggest clue was the furniture she would find near the door, obviously makeshift barricades for whoever had decided to crash there.
Yet there was never a sign of this mysterious entity, always gone before she had arrived.
Until that day.
First thing she noticed? The lack of a barricade at the door, Wednesday slowly unclasped the Glock-19 from its holster, flicking the safety off, she raised it as she slowly crept into the house like a ghost. Her steps were silent as she crept up the stairs onto the landing, the bathroom door was closed but the room adjacent too it wasn't and Wednesday, wiped her bangs aside she slid into the room
First thing she noticed was an ugly pink bag that made her want to heave, it was so violently pink but Wednesday silently cursed because that bag just seemed... out of place.
And there was a sudden all too familiar click behind her and Wednesday wanted to swear heavily, she spun round Glock pointing straight at where she heard the click from. And was suddenly drowning into the most beautiful set of blue eyes she had ever seen in her life
It made her falter for a split second before regaining her composure, she was a girl, roughly same age, a couple of inches taller than her, with bright blonde hair, with red and blue tipped ends. It was like a napalm of colour. Dirt covered the face of the beautiful girl, cheeks that would have been the deepest shade of scarlet, if not hidden under the grime.
Small but not weak by any sense of the word, but Wednesday, whether it was because she was starved of human interaction or because she was looking at this angel of a girl in front of her, could not stop staring into those blue eyes, with her colder orbs of brown.
Wednesday was shaken out of her trance, seeing the girl's fingers wrapped round a handgun of her own.
Fuck.
But even then, the blue eyes stole her attention, just like they would eventually steal her heart.
(A/N) This Suddenly came to me today as I was thinking of ideas to start a new story, multi chapter story, just happened to be watching I Am Legend and was inspired, i'd love to turn this into a multi chapter story because honestly the ship has ruined me lmao send help
Got the ending planned for this too, and yeah... it might be one of my best, I just hope you guys enjoy because this fandom is honestly just a ray of positivity, at least from what I have seen, enjoy and until next time, peace!