P.A.W. (Put 'em Down), Quick writing sample

[BlueLoneWolf]

((This is a short story that I've been working on for Creative Writing. Part one of maybe two or three.))

The sun wouldn't've awakened Jake McGowan. The particularly loud beeping that came from a cell phone on the nightstand next to his bed, however, did. He moaned angrily and smacked the top of the table with his hand, padding around, trying to find the source of the disruption.
"Son of a bitch…" he complained to no one as he popped open a bleary eye. It was seven fifteen in the morning, which was about eight hours before he had planned to wake up. Jake cursed again as he finally manage to grab the phone. Something inside him had to clamp down and force his hand to not toss the accursed thing to the other end of his apartment.
"Hello?" Jake yawned into the mike as he tried to sit up in bed. He forced himself to shift upward, the din of his joints popping almost forcing him to go back to sleep.
"Jake, you seriously could wake up for this call?" asked the female voice from the other side of the line. The formerly unconscious Jake recognized it easily, though it wasn't exactly who he wanted to hear.
"Damn it, Lisa, I just managed to get back from the last job and you spring this on me now?" moaned Jake as he pushed himself up and out of his bed. The soft sheets beckoned, but, if Lisa was calling, there was rather important work that needed to be done.
"You're the only SW25 we've got in the area that can deal with it. Report to headquarters as soon as possible…and try to drink something with caffeine in it before you come. If you show up and fall asleep again, the boss will have your tail on the chopping block," replied Lisa.
Jake grunted as he walked to the mirror in the bathroom. He had shaved yesterday morning, but the black stubble was already growing back. It put him on notice to be careful, or he could have a full beard in another couple days. Pulling a comb out of the still-open medicine cabinet, he tried to straighten his unruly hair. It was basically impossible thanks to his condition, but he still tried to no avail. It seemed fiercer this morning, usually a sign of oncoming danger.
"I'm Chu's best man for those kinds of jobs. He wouldn't put me out in the cold without having an adequate replacement. And it couldn't be a younger guy; I'm one of the youngest he's got," said Jake, pulling back the corner of his mouth to look at his teeth. How he managed to keep them clean he'd never know, but they were still sparkling white. This month he was out seven toothbrushes and about one hundred metal toothpicks.
"You're right, of course, but you know what they say about people that think they have job security," replied Lisa coyly.
"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure that he's not doing anything like sharpening any particular blades. I'll be there in maybe forty minutes. The commute this time of day is killer," said Jake, glancing over the rest of his body for any remaining scars or cuts. As usual, they had all healed over in good order, and the aches and burns were already gone. Healing fast was a bonus that he had to use much more often than he'd like.
"I'll make sure to tell him that. He'll at least be glad to hear that your sense of humor hasn't faded. That last run really put you through the mill. See you when you get in, Jake," laughed Lisa, hanging up on the other side of the line.
Jake took phone away from his head and snarled something fierce before pressing end and tossing it back to his bed in disgust. Crazy old guy and his constant demands caused him more grief than they were sometimes worth. After doing a once-over of himself, he took a hot shower to relax his taut muscles. Last night he felt like he was strung out on a line and beaten like a carpet.
After his shower, McGowan walked to his closet and put on a clean collared shirt and a pair of jeans that were too big for him. He was used to wearing baggy clothing. For the past few years, it had been just as much a part of his life as breathing. Sometimes it was a pain, but more often than not it actually helped him out. With his job, it was difficult to predict what would happen, and baggy clothing was a necessity. It was either that, or constant trips to clothing outlets. To put it bluntly, Jake had no nice clothes because he was so worried that something would happen to rip them to shreds.
He slowly put on a pair of boots that were two sizes too large for his size fourteen feet, and galumphed over to nightstand to pull his revolver and his badge from the drawer.
He had managed to clean it out last night, and the strong smell of Rem Oil still hung about the metal frame. It was a specially made eight-round, top-break, double-action .44 magnum- standard issue for people of his particular profession. The badge itself wouldn't exactly get him out of trouble, but it was a good identifier of his authority and standing. He dug out a leather shoulder holster from another drawer and wrapped it around his chest and placed the long-barreled weapon within its fold.
Jake finally pocketed his wallet and keys, grabbed a gigantic leather jacket and a motorcycle helmet that sat on a bench near the door, and walked out. He turned and locked the door, and held the helmet in his teeth as he wriggled into the jacket. The huge arms and folds made it rather difficult to put it on in one motion.
"Jake, I haven't seen you in a week!" came the voice of an old lady from down the stairs. Jake looked over the pink floral dress and smiled.
"Sorry, Mrs. Morris, my boss had me on an extended trip somewhere. I promise that I'll come in as soon as I can and play a few games of cards with you and your husband, but right now, he wants me back at work…" said Jake with a genial smile to the old lady, who was still wearing her green curlers. Jake laughed. Mrs. Morris was a kind old lady that always wondered why such a strapping young lad could come home at such odd hours without a female companion. Why he stumbled in exhausted and bruised, but never drunk or high. She made great peanut butter cookies, too. That was always a welcome smell after a hard day's, week's, or month's work.
"Jake, are you alright? What time did you get in this morning?" she worried aloud, letting him pass to his Harley-Davidson motorcycle. For all his complaints about his job, it got him a really fine set of wheels.
"Oh, maybe 3, I don't know," he yawned again, putting on his helmet, which was also rather large for his head. Some cop would have a field day with him one day, a moving violation of common sense and probably a few laws. Tickets everywhere, Jake predicted dryly, counting up the figures in his head. He flipped up the visor for a second to continue the conversation.
"Did you get some of those new contacts that are colored?" asked Mrs. Morris, now taking the opportunity to look at his eyes. Jake was confused for a second until he realized that he had forgotten to put in his contacts this morning.
"I thought your eyes were blue…not yellow…" she said confusedly, not sure what to make of the change.
Jake laughed it off casually, as if she had hit the mark. "Oh, I was just trying out something new for work. This sure doesn't cut it, though. No way I'm going to make these work for the Halloween party if all it does is make people look at me funny."
Mrs. Morris took the bait and laughed, too. "Oh, you're preparing for a Halloween party! How I miss those days…I'll be sure to make you a batch of cookies for when you get back from work," she said, backing up as Jake kicked the huge engine into gear. It coughed and sputtered, then rumbled and roared into life.
"Much appreciated, Mrs. Morris! See you later!" he said, touching the visor in a sort of salute. He flipped it down and started down the road, enjoying the smooth and rhythmic rumbling of the engine underneath him.
His bike was one of his most prized possessions, a reward for three year's service in his boss's company. He had been driving a beat up old Indian before that, but now his VRSCDX Night Rod Special was one of the envies of everyone at headquarters. He had to move some serious tasks to get it, though. No one said that working for the old dragon was easy.

The store didn't look like somewhere to stash men wearing baggy clothes and toting large caliber handguns; that was for sure. Feinstein's Jewelry was one of those holes-in-the-wall that no one would pay attention to from the outside. It wasn't because Feinstein didn't have great stuff inside: some of his better pieces had been the subject of rather astonishing finds by actual jewelry historians. That didn't stop Feinstein from keeping shop in a rundown part of town. Then again, he had a second job that was probably more important than owning the place.
Jake opened the glass door to the small shop, and was greeted by a short man with a balding head and white wisps about his ears. He wore a fine red vest and a pince-nez set of glasses. Jake smelled pipe tobacco and cheap wine. Neither was exactly appealing, but that was the odor that Feinstein draped himself in daily.
"Jake, you're earlier than expected," said Mr. Feinstein anxiously, hands kneading together in rapid order, "Mr. Chu will be pleased that you made such good time."
"Well, Chu got me a nice bike. The rest of it was just knowing traffic patterns," said Jake with a toothy grin. He normally didn't hold small talk with the store owner. 'Shiny', as he was known by Jake's fellow agents for his job and chrome dome, was neurotic and constantly worrying about something. Jake was mildly surprised that he wasn't puffing his pipe already. Feinstein hurriedly hustled behind the counter and pressed a recessed button under the watch display. He then shooed Jake to the back of the shop before a legitimate customer could appear. McGowan looked more like a thief than a well-meaning consumer, and was horrid window dressing.
Jake walked to the back toward the offices, passing several displays of fine rings and bracelets. Feinstein ran the store for a nice profit, which made the old dragon downstairs happy, too. This was always good for his operatives. Best time to meet with Mr. Chu was after an earnings report or two. If there was one thing that his operatives could pin down, the grumpy old chimney still loved making and collecting money, even if he had to be loose with the purse strings at some points. Always hard to make him spring for business expenses. Of course, the difficulties in reaching into the treasury were usually enough to cause four or so people a headache, so some of it was justified. There were only repercussions of bad decisions if he lost something on a venture, or someone really screwed up to the point at which Jake would be one of the people knocking on doors. Tough being a rather unspecific janitor, but that's what he felt like his job was- cleaning up after someone else's messes.
Jake walked right into Feinstein's office, ignoring the furnishings for the most part, but moving right to a statuette of a jade dragon that adorned one shelf of a wooden display case. He flipped open the base, revealing a red button which he promptly pressed. He waited for a second to hear some light metal ticking. Turning around, another armoire recessed into the wall and moved out of the way, revealing an elevator. Jake got in, and as he turned to face the doors, they closed behind him. McGowan heard the sound of the mechanisms working, and the elevator started to sink into the ground. It was a long ride down to see the dragon, and of course, he had to show up in proper apparel. Jake sighed as he flicked his jacket collar and made sure his shirt was nice and loose so it would rise with his growing chest. Jake closed his eyes and breathed deeply, slowly inching his mind toward the transformation. Slipping into his 'other suit' and becoming a werewolf wasn't ever easy or pretty. Sure didn't feel right to have all of his organs grow and rearrange themselves.
He kept note of how he changed each time. Unfortunately, it was usually random. This time, the muzzle formed first, his mouth and nose expanding, elongating. The tips of his fingers turned black and calloused, and his nails changed to claws. All of his bones stretched, and his formerly impressive build became more pronounced, threatening to pop even his huge over-wear. His ears rotated upward and grew outward, forming softly rounded triangles. His teeth changed from that of an omnivore to those of a carnivore. Then there was the nasty, annoying itching feeling of all of his hair changing to fur and thickening. He did his best to keep it short, but there was only so much you could do with something that grew so fast. At least he wasn't enough of a wolf that he grew a tail- trying to explain why you had a hole in the ass of your pants and underwear would probably be uncomfortable. He shuddered to think of it. And it was a waste of a good pair of pants.
Jake had to stifle the urge to howl- it was something that still managed to get out every once in a while, though here was the perfect place for it to not matter. However, if there was something he learned, it was that he had to ALWAYS control his instincts. If he started howling when he changed this time, he could start doing it during more inappropriate bouts. But his outer appearance was what the damned dragon wanted to see. He was partially resentful of werewolves because of their ability to blend in, but he was also mad at Jake in particular because Jake was one of his 'Accidents'. It wasn't as bad now as it was when he started, but it definitely hadn't ceased, in spite of Jake's rather astonishing success rate. Being an 'Accident' meant that Jake wasn't born with his condition, it was given to him by someone that had it previously. He had a life beforehand, which was something that a lot of the denizens of the 'downstairs' envied.
The elevator doors opened after about a minute's wait, and he exited to the main lobby of his employer. When he was down here, it was simply more helpful to Jake to be in his 'other suit'. It meant he would be hassled less. The gigantic complex started in this lobby, but spread all over the underground of the city. It housed those unfortunate; or fortunate, depending on their views of the whole situation; enough to be unwelcome in modern human society. Disfigured beyond recognition, or genetically manipulated into something that couldn't be seen without being shot by camera or by rifle, the IBHCs (Infected Beyond Human Contact), were confined to an area roughly the size of the Northeast of DC. Worked much the same as the world upstairs- certain sections were nice, others were slums. People segregated themselves by virus symptoms. Jake was one of maybe 10,000,000 people worldwide infected with something unofficially labeled the 'Paranormal Production Virus'. It was the singular cause of vampires, werewolves, phoenixes, minotaurs, and other monsters and mythic that propagated myths.
"Welcome back down to the office, Jake," said Lisa, who was sitting behind the main desk in the center. Lisa was the receptionist for Mr. Chu. Her particular issue was that she was a Wampus Cat- half woman, half cat. No transformation to full human available, so she was stuck down here with some of the other unfortunate people that would never see the light of day.
Jake gave Lisa a toothy, goofy grin. It was the least he could do to brighten her day.
"Hey, any day I get to see your shining face is a good day," he said with a genial wink, walking over to the desk.
Fortunately for Jake, he was infected with a lesser form of the virus, named 'SW25'- Sentient werewolf 25 percent integration. He had exceptional speed and strength beyond human limits, more so pronounced when he was in his wolf form, which also gave him improved hearing and smell. Sentient werewolf meant he got to keep his wits about him when he was in his 'other suit'. Best of all in the deal, he possessed most of the regenerative powers with no weakness to silver, no human bloodlust, and no ties to the full moon. SW25s didn't have paw-like hands; therefore, they were fully dexterous. They walked on the soles of their feet like normal humans, rather than the SW50s, which started to walk like dogs with canine-form legs. He was the ideal, which is why he was such a good agent.
"I appreciate the flattery, Jake, but you're just saying that," said Lisa, yawning, "I know how much you hate being woken up when you're just off the clock."
Jake growled angrily and moved a thick strand of black fur out of his eye. "Didn't even have a chance to get this cut back. My neighbors are already worried about me again. The ones that I actually care about, that is," he said dryly.
"Mrs. Morris already wants to bake you another batch of cookies?" chided Lisa, "Did she adopt you like a lost puppy or something?"
"Hey, those two don't have any kids, and they're a sweet old couple," defended Jake, "And no man ever turns down free food. Especially when they're homemade cookies. That's just wrong."
"Man law?" asked Lisa as Jake started to walk away toward his meeting with Mr. Chu.
"Allowances only made for allergies and fruitcake!" he declared, raising a finger in protest, "Man law, indeed!"
Jake could hear Lisa laughing from down the long hallway. At least he got her to enjoy herself for a second. Being a werewolf didn't mean that you had to be a complete terror on the populace…though he was seriously craving a steak right now. His protein intake from the past couple of days was lower than ideal levels. Even SW25s got meat and protein cravings- and they could get bad enough that even the most calm and controlled could get caught snacking on a stray cat or robbing a corner grocery store for a few cuts of beef. Jake just tended to keep some New York strip in the fridge, and had a pizza ordering site listed as one of his favorites on his computer. Meat lover's pizza…so good…
Jake had to slap himself to prevent drooling. He was hungry. And that thing inside him was digging at him to EAT NOW. He quashed his hunger pangs with the consolation that, once he was on the job, he would get a steak dinner on his boss's tab. Chu ran tabs with certain restaurants that were owned by IHCCs, or Infected- Human Contact Capables, upstairs. The few times that Jake ate out, it was usually on his boss's dime.
McGowan had to weave his way through a crowd of now-awakening paranormals to get to the offices of the old chimney. Those that lived down here usually awoke and slept to the same schedule. They had to get about and do various jobs that Chu needed done. Some of the skilled workers polished and refined jewelry and gold and other treasures that belonged to the old guy. Others still were in charge of making clothing and other items. The Underground had its fair share of talented tailors, mostly due to the various anatomical requirements of each particular form of the virus. Most of Jake's clothing was actually made down here in exchange for his labor…and contraband. Certain things couldn't normally be had down here. There were stores that had pipelines through stores owned by IHCCs, but the prices were rather ridiculous. So Jake sometimes made a tidy profit on the side by selling various things from 'upstairs' at a substantial discount compared to the outlets already down here. Hershey's chocolate was a big seller. Movies were of rather impressive values. Televisions were priceless. Tapes of football games and other sporting events were going for ridiculous margins. Life down here was definitely not as hard as it could be, but it was a far sight from being that which others may or may not have lived upstairs.
After finally managing to squirm through the writhing masses, Jake made it to Chu's office door. He pressed an intercom button on a small speaker apparatus.
"Jake McGowan, calling for Mr. Chu," he said dryly into the mike. He knew he was in for it when he entered: he hadn't filed a proper report on his last little adventure. Chu hated when Jake slacked off on paperwork. Funny, considering Chu hated paperwork, but most of what Jake interpreted from him was that Chu viewed him as a useful pain-in-the-ass.
"Yes, get in here already," said the anxious and annoyed deep voice.
The electric door opened up slowly, revealing the gold shine that came from a dragon's treasure pit. The aura was stunning to those seeing it for the first time, but Jake had been in Chu's 'office' way too much to care anymore.
"McGowan! You disappoint me again!" came the angry voice from the gigantic red and gold dragon sitting on the mountain of various types of valuables and treasures.
"Hey, you're the one who sent me after a God-damned banshee!" said McGowan, pointing a finger angrily at the much bigger Chu, "I still hear the ringing in my ears! You said it was an accursed poltergeist, not a Screaming Meanie!"
Jake was a big guy. In his current form, his height topped seven feet, and his muscles rippled under taut skin and fur. But Chu was a monster of the highest variety. An ancient Chinese Dragon, Chu had a fearsome appearance to go with his nasty temper. The guy had a heart of gold at certain points, but only when he managed to dig it out of the money pit below him. And Jake hadn't seen much of it in a long time.
His tasseled mane shook as he angrily dismissed Jake's claim. "I claimed no such thing. And you almost botched the job! I wonder why I keep you on the payroll!"
Because any other werewolf would've seen the banshee and run whimpering in the other direction with their tail in between their legs. But no, I'm stupid enough to do my damn job, thought Jake, Hell, you only hate me because I'm more concerned with saving people's lives than covering this thing up so you can keep your little fiefdom safe down here.
"The fact that the cops got that close was NOT my fault. Blame her for screaming so hard that it caused a car accident nearby. I'd say that it still smarts, but that'd be a lie," spat Jake, already fed up. He was hungry, he hadn't had much sleep, and he was not in the mood to take guff from this greedy, lazy, arbitrary bother. He was the bankroller of this whole underground city, but only as long as it kept him rolling in his own treasure. Only good thing that Jake ever got out of him was a motorcycle, a running tab, and a paycheck. Other than that, dismissals and anger all around.
"Do you remember the day that I found and got a hold of you? Half-naked, stuck in werewolf form and barely able to stand?!" yelled Chu, his eyes already lighting up in flame.
Depends, you remember the last time you actually moved your fat, pompous ass out of this room?
"Yeah, I remember that day. You sent my predecessor out to get me out of the cold and such. We know the damn story. Took me in as an Accident, which was putting your reputation on the line. Trained me to be a Paranormal Anonymity Works agent to clean up messes. Paranormal Relocation, Investigation, and Neutralization Team. P.A.W.P.R.I.N.T. for short," Jake said. McGowan personally thought the person that thought of the group's moniker must've had some dumb sense of humor, but it was rather appropriate considering the workers in his division. Almost all of the 'upstairs' members of P.A.W.P.R.I.N.T. were SWs. Some were SW50s. He knew of maybe three SW75. It was really next to impossible to count on an SW100. They were sentient, but they didn't have any sort of dexterity and couldn't speak. With that integration level, the affected was bound to the moon and had massive silver weaknesses. It was better just to be a less powerful but more adaptable 25.
"And yet you still come so close to failing me! You have an important job for an imbecile, Jake!" barked Chu, reaching over and sliding a long claw under his chin, "And while I admit that you have consistently proven to be a valuable asset, there is only so much I can tolerate your messes and indiscretions."
"If you're looking for an explanation as to why I blew the center of her skull out, it was because she had already killed two regular cops and was going to kill ME. And that would be a loss of a hefty investment," said Jake, trying a different tactic. He knew that Chu didn't call him in solely to berate him. The old smoker isn't that much of a dick.
"You are correct, your death would mean that I wasted a large amount of my time and energy raising an Accident to respectability and putting him somewhere where he could be of use," said Chu, dropping a little bit of the edge of his voice, "Though if you hadn't have been foolish in the first place, none of this would've happened."
That was the knife to the gut that Jake had known was coming.
You seriously had to bring that up, didn't you? he thought, somewhat angrily. "Look, I know I made a really bad mistake. It's over with. That happened five years ago."
"Well, it is extremely relevant, because your Causation for being who you are has resurfaced," said Chu, venting some smoke.
Jake suddenly stopped his guilt trip. "What, Anastasia? She's popped up on the radar again?" he asked, intrigued.
"Actually, we've been tracking her through witness accounts. I didn't want you sticking your nose into this due to your prior relations," blew out Chu, sending another smoke ring toward the overhanging stalactites.
"Hey, I appreciate what I've become to some extent, but I still think that the bitch who did this to me should be caught before she does it to someone else," said Jake, motioning his hands to indicate his present form, "I learned my lesson the first time. Don't get drunk and have a one-night stand with a girl that I met in a bar that apparently was a Paranormal Hole that I didn't know damn well enough to get out of because I was plastered worse than an Italian Fresco."
"True enough that you had no concept of what you were doing…I should have taken that as an indication of your work to come, but the fact that she disregarded our rules for dealing with Normals that walk into our establishments makes her a risk. She was supposed to kindly decline your invitation-"
"OI! She was the one that was hitting on me!" protested Jake again, "No hesitation. And even then, it's easy for a Para to determine that they're talking to a Norm. With all the code words and such, and the fact that I was drunk off my rocker, she should've known not to try it anyway."
"What happened does not matter anymore. You are what you are because you were foolish. But you are much too useful to berate much more for that particular decision. The reason why she has appeared on the radar again," commented Chu, digging out a particularly interesting goblet and inspecting it, "Is that we have linked her to three recent SW25 accidents. Within the past two months, we have already managed to wrangle out accounts of her doing much the same to inebriated humans. We do not know where she is currently, but she was last spotted in the club Excalibur. If you could pick up a lead or two from there, you might be able to apprehend her."
"Do I have order to terminate if met with resistance?" asked Jake, eyebrow raised slightly with the possibility of retribution.
Chu blew another puff of smoke as if to think about it. McGowan had a sixth sense about the state of mind of those he was investigating, bringing in, or relocating. He often guessed correctly as to whether or not the person in question would run, acquiesce, or go on the offense. Too many went on the offense in their fear, rather than run. The virus would often feed on and enhance aggression, so Jake had to deal with the results.
"On her life…" said Chu, finally making up his mind, "If you must…put her down."

[Jim Prower]

Interesting...kinda humorous, very neat...I like how it's turning out. :3

[BlueLoneWolf]

Damn it, I forgot to format it for the board! I'm so used to typing for class now that I didn't automatically put in the boxes for italic! It's the opposite problem from earlier...

[Jim Prower]

X3

eh, that's tough to do. 'specially with Firefox, which puts the "[ I ]" at the bottom of the page when you hit the button.

[Knight]

not bad, truely interesting. i hope you will be sharing some more with us.

[BlueLoneWolf]

The Night Rod Special rolled up to the Excalibur later that night. It was pretty much useless to scope the scene during the day, so Jake took the opportunity to hit the tab up for a porterhouse and catch a couple hours sleep back at his apartment. Normally he would've chased after her immediately, but he didn't know if Excalibur was a Para bar or not. After some phone calls he made to various 'upstairs' information sources, it was confirmed that it wasn't. There was a Para that worked there, but he was available only at night when he was on duty.
"Great, vampire bouncer," said Jake under his breath as he pulled his jacket closer, "Hope for his sake that he's friendly…"
Jake didn't have much to fear from vampires. Once you had the virus; that was it. No other permutation of it could change your DNA. Vampires were just a pain in the ass. Each of them had to be really careful. One case of the munchies could start a whole brood of issues. Jake remembered his first run in with a stoned vampire, just out from a 7-11. He brought three recently changed friends. The fight had ended badly for them.
Mumbling to himself about his issues wasn't going to get him anywhere. And if he closed this up, he wouldn't have to worry about his Causation doing it to anyone else. There was a nasty sinking feeling in his stomach that he'd have to help clean up the mess that the three new werewolves had created. It was part of the training: an accident had to learn how to control their new impulses and urges from an experienced elder in one of the several clans. It meant calling a month's sabbatical from whatever life you could recover, but it was better than waking up and finding oneself in the middle of the field with fur in your mouth and guts all over the place.
Jake walked up to the door, which already had a substantial line in front. The bouncer at the door was a pale big guy with orange Ray-ban sunglasses on. His face was set in stone: marble, Jake surmised, based on his chalky complexion.
"I'm sorry sir, but you'll have to move to the back of the line," he spoke in a deep voice that almost forced Jake to follow the order. Vampires had this strange suggestive power, which they used to lure in their prey or make others do what they wanted. Strong enough wills could repel it. Either that or one could get plastered or high to the point at which your mind was so scrambled that it couldn't be prevailed upon to do much of anything.
Asshole using his powers on Norms to make work easier…Never mind, I can't exactly complain about it… thought Jake as he shook his head. This got him a slight raise of a shaved eyebrow. Jake reached into the right of his jacket, opposite of his revolver, and pulled out the badge.
"Sorry, I need access," he said quietly, "I'm dogging someone at the moment."
"Oh?" asked the bouncer, eyebrow raising slightly, "I suppose you're the runt that Chu sent about the stray problems around here."
"I do perform some removal from time to time," said Jake, finishing the code. If the bouncer was worth his salt to the Para race, then he'd know that Jake was a werewolf operative looking for someone in the bar.
"Fair enough. You can inspect the place. Just be careful not to run into the boss, he won't want the service charge," said the bouncer with a nod, moving out of the way to let Jake inside. The latter part of the sentence was a nice warning. The owner wasn't a Para, and would not appreciate the mess. Investigate, but do not instigate.
Jake nodded, but internally he snorted. It would be nice if he was an honest-to-goodness cop. Wouldn't have to deal with the fact that he was a private citizen performing a different kind of civic duty.
Jake entered, and instantly knew why his prey would come here to wait. It was quiet. The music was low and slow, fading in and out like the bars of a Gregorian chant. The atmosphere was still for younger males, of course- there were plenty of televisions showing sporting events. The bartenders and waitresses were all easily size double D. Having interacted with werewolf chicks, Jake was used to it. They had the market on large bras. Considering the looks on the faces of the guys in here, the sights were a little more than they had imagined.
Jake walked up to the bar, where he was promptly attended to by one of the barkeeps.
"What'll you have?" she asked, giving him a wink. Jake sighed deeply. Always hard to deal with human women his age, especially beautiful ones. His condition had left him bereft of any permanent chance with the ladies, discounting the strange ones that wouldn't care. Or werewolf chicks.
"Just a glass of water, please," he said, the desperation dripping from his voice.
She looked at him funny, surprised by his choice. "You come into a place like this with an attitude like that and order a glass of water?" she asked. She actually turned to him for a second, but was called and hurried down to the other end of the bar.
Jake expected it and turned to a basket of peanuts. He cracked a couple and ate them, but the somewhat bitter taste annoyed him. Last time he actually had cared about them was-
"Sorry, mister, here's your water…" said the bartender, turning back with a glass of water that was dripping with condensation. Jake took a sip and began to glance around carelessly. He knew how to observe casually while looking like he was waiting or dreading something. Being that nervous guy on the end of the bar was generally good cover.
Jake took the time to analyze the situation. There were four exits that he knew of, including the front door. One was behind the bar toward the back and probably through some sort of storage room. Another was a fire escape, clearly marked with alarm warnings. The other was out by the restrooms past the dance floor. None of them were necessarily easily accessible from the middle of the room, which meant that if there were any Para's hanging about, they would be on the periphery.
And this place is definitely a fire hazard, he noted, One fire exit? Seriously? Haven't they heard in the news about those bars that go up in flames? Place must've been made in the twenties or something…
Jake fingered the glass lightly before taking a sip and glancing around again. The music playing over the speakers switched to an annoyingly high-pitched techno mix. The werewolf inside him was going crazy, complaining like mad about the sounds. He had learned long ago that the thing inside him had different sensibilities, even when it was subdued under the surface veneer that was 100% human.
"You have that look in your eyes that says that you want to be somewhere else," said a voice from behind him. It was a sultry call from the past that shook him out of his artificial stupor.
"Can you ever imagine why?" he asked without turning his head. Jake decided instead to down the entire glass, swallowing everything minus the cubes in one gulp.
Since the stool next to him was empty, the woman behind him sat down. He didn't have to look at her to know who she was.
"Yes, I can," she said, staring him down until he engaged her eyes.
She wasn't much changed from five years ago. She had candy-apple red lips and yellow eyes under a cascade of long, black hair. Her face was graced with soft features that went along with a lithe body, only accented by large breasts. That night, he was too busy ogling her to care about what she said. Now they were just an unwanted distraction and reminder of the stupidity that made him who he was.
She drew her finger along the bar. "If my memory serves me, it was January 23rd, 2004. Snow was falling outside and the roads were stopped up with ice. You stumbled in, already half smashed from some party that your friends had held earlier that day."
"My friend Charlie had just proposed," said Jake bitterly, remembering his old friends, "I don't talk to him anymore. I don't even know how the marriage went between him and Emma. We all went to school together."
"What was your major?" she asked, turning to him fully now. She still wore the same black overcoat. Even though there wasn't much showing, he still remembered exactly what she wore that night.
"Criminal Justice," he muttered, slamming the glass back down on the bar, "I was going to be a cop like my old man. I haven't seen him in years, now, too."
"Really? You hate yourself that much that you haven't even seen your father?" she mused. A slight tinge of surprise ran through her voice. At the moment, he couldn't tell if he was being patronized or she was being genuine.
"I don't hate myself," said Jake with a firm tone, "I did this to myself and now I have to live with it."
"I will give it to you, Jake, you take it better than most do," she said with a sly grin.
Jake finally turned to face her, not exactly knowing what to say when his eyes locked on hers again. He wanted to rage and shout. Everything human inside of him wanted revenge. Everything werewolf was still paying attention to her body, wanting it for itself. The two conflicted in the most annoying way possible, leaving Jake angrily stuttering while holding his hand over his pants.
"Though you seem to have some certain issues that you could resolve rather easily…" she said, toying with him by talking in a seductive tone.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Do you even remember my name?" he asked, turning back to his empty glass. His anger had now surpassed his sex drive, which he was thankful for eight times over. Usually he didn't get this flustered, but it was rather hard coming face to face with his unfortunate past.
"Jacob Daniel McGowan, Junior. Twenty-one years old. Born in Nashville, Tennessee," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He instantly shrugged it off brusquely.
"So you took a look at my driver's license while I was passed out on the bed. You could, considering you left before sunrise," he spat, knocking the table for another glass.
"I had a meeting to attend to," she commented nonchalantly, "If you want to know what-"
He interrupted her by pulling his badge out of his jacket and placing it on the bar.
"I've been ordered to take you in or put you down," Jake flatly declared.
"Oh, so that greedy bastard got to you," she said, a note of dismay in her voice. She reached into her own overcoat, causing Jake to reach toward his magnum.
"Relax, Tiger, you might want to see this," she said, holding up her hands. Jake was still tense, but nodded his permission.
The woman reached into her overcoat again, this time pulling out a badge that was exactly like his.
"Anastasia Morozov. Former agent of Mr. Chu's P.A.W."
Jake knew the badge well enough to know it wasn't a fake at first.
"I want to see the back of it," he said, now slightly mystified by either his orders or her intentions.
"Of course," she said, handing it to him slyly as he put his own badge back in his leather jacket.
It definitely would look weird to others, but instead of a badge number, each badge was marked with the scent of the owner. That made it much easier for other P.A.W. agents, especially the werewolves, to match badges with names and faces. If the badge smell matched the smell of the person handing it out, then it belonged to them. If not, then it was a hoax and some agent had lost their badge, had it stolen, or was killed.
Jake took a whiff of the badge, allowing his senses, expanded even in human form, to dissect the odor.
"Lilac with a hint of summer rain and baking bread…" Jake said, handing her the badge back, "But I've never smelled yo-"
At that, Anastasia hopped off the stool.
"If you want an explanation, follow me," she said, motioning for him to come with her with a calling finger.
The animal side of him was back again, but again it got stifled by anger. This time, however, it came with a hint of curiosity.
"Alright, I'll bite, but if you do anything funny, it's your hide that's on the line," said Jake, slowly getting off the stool and standing in front of her. The height differential was larger than it was last time. She was about six two, and last time, he was about six foot even. The virus had caused a growth spurt of six inches in him, now letting him look down on her as he tried to remain taught and menacing.
"Suit yourself. And I will mean that literally, later," she said, walking out of the bar with a sway in her hips that made every man glance at her. She was obviously a big user of the animal magnetism part of being a werewolf. Jake never did much to attract that kind of attention. He simply made his way out of the bar, head hung low, but eyes never breaking from watching her.

Thirty minutes of travel later, Jake and Anastasia arrived at a high-end apartment complex. He followed her car, a Porsche 911 Type 993, at a close interval, thinking that she could bolt at any moment. But she seemed calm and in control at the bar, and her driving didn't indicate anything different. He almost wanted her to make a strange turn and start running, but she did not.
"Nice bike," she said as he got off and pulled off his helmet, "Chu?"
He only nodded as she led up a flight of stairs toward what was probably her room. Pulling a long silver key from her pocket, she unlocked the door.
"Interesting security measure," he muttered.
"Thank you," she said, stepping to the side to let him in first.
Jake shook his head. "I'd rather you walk through that door before me."
"Fair enough," she said, going inside and turning on the light. Jake followed, closing the door behind him.
Inside, the low lighting accented deep, earthen colors on the walls. A low couch sat in front of a TV, while in the kitchenette, stainless steel appliances meshed well with the burgundy cupboards. There were some photographs on the wall; framed black and white stills of the wilderness.
"Didn't know you collected Ansel Adams," said Jake, looking them over.
"You don't know a lot of things about me," she said, tossing her coat to the side of the door where it caught on a wrought-iron coat rack, "I did know that you took photography in high school and an introductory course in college."
"How? I thought those transcripts were sealed," he asked flatly as Anastasia walked to the kitchenette and pulled a bottle of wine out of the rack.
"Something you don't necessarily always realize is that Paras are everywhere and in everything. We get pretty much any information we need, any tests done by any source, with no hesitation as to who requested it," said Anastasia, "Not nearly as many people live in Chu's little underground jail cell as you think. Drink?"
Jake contemplated the bottle of wine, but shook his head. "No thank you," he said politely but quickly, "I don't drink anymore."
"I understand that. I mean, the last time you got drunk, this whole thing started," Anastasia laughed as she put the bottle away, "If you don't drink, I don't. Now, are you going to listen to what I have to say, or are you going to dismiss me out of hand. If you want to do the latter, simply shoot me and get it over with. The walls are soundproof. I put them in to prevent neighbors from asking about howls and growls. Definitely not getting the security deposit back on this place."
Jake grunted, but said nothing else.
"The windows are one-way mirrors, too," she said, suddenly changing from human to wolf-form without warning, "So I can stay comfortable in either skin. You're free to do the same, if you so choose."
Jake looked her down from top to bottom again. Her hair remained raven black, but her fur was snow white in an ironic twist. She was even better built now, which had his hormones raging, but he stifled himself yet again until he could get answers.
Jake declined for the moment, though he did take off his jacket and placed it on the coat rack. The holster was prominently displayed on his chest. There was no strap to restrain his firearm, so he could get to it quickly.
"Standard issue is still that old .357?" asked Anastasia, opening the fridge and pulling out two cans of orange soda. She raised one to offer it to him, but he again shook his head.
".44 magnum," he said curtly, "So even people like us watch out."
"Ah, they moved up the caliber, then," she said, grinning as wryly as her mouth would allow, "Not a very friendly gesture."
She moved over to the couch and sat down. She patted the space next to her, though she already knew the response she'd give. He gave her an annoyed look and shook his head again.
"Guess it runs in the organization," she said, thereby swinging her feet up onto the lounge chair. She kicked off her shoes and sighed deeply as she cracked open the can. She was only wearing a t-shirt and a short skirt, even heading toward deep into fall. Jake knew her game- seduce the man, get him to a quiet place, and then have her way…but strange that she was going after him.
"Do you want the long explanation or the short one?" she asked, taking a sip. It was hard for most werewolves to drink in that way, but it was possible. Jake never wore white, though, for a reason: it cut down on laundry expenses.
"I'll take the long one. That way I can shoot holes through it," he said coolly, only taking the time to relax a tad and lean against the wall. Crossing his arms while keeping his hand on his revolver's grip.
"I hope that you wouldn't try to shoot holes through me along with my story," she said, laughing lightly, though she tensed up slightly as Jake raised an eyebrow and fingered the revolver.
"Okay, would you stop it with that? I'm trying to be honest with you after this whole round of nonsense," she said, almost standing up.
"Of course, and while you're at it, you get me all confused and save your own skin," said Jake with a shrug of the shoulders, "Either way, I'd still like answers. Even if it is only going to end badly for one of us, if not both."
"It doesn't have to end badly for either of us," she said, "Especially not us."
"If you're going with that where I think you're going, I'll pass," Jake deadpanned, finger tapping the hammer of his revolver testily.
"You have no fun in your life," she pouted, throwing back another swallow.
Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm on the clock; I don't get paid to have fun. Now spill."
Anastasia seemed to finally harden and get serious, rotating herself to sit up on the couch.
"Well, to start off with, you aren't necessarily an Accident," she said, finally downing the whole can and crushing it in one hand, "It was a long and complicated process, but I was ordered to turn you into a werewolf."
Jake didn't blink at that, but she could see that he was a little shaken from the announcement. It seemed like some thought occurred to him, but he shook it off.
"Why and by who? How did-" he started.
"Who else makes the orders in this area?" she moaned, running her fingers through her hair, "That bastard Chu. Did the same damn thing to you as he did to me. My first boyfriend was a werewolf."
"What exactly were you to Chu, though? What was I and how did he know?" Jake asked, pressing the point.
"I was originally a major in mythology," she said, "So I already had a lot of knowledge on the paranormal community. That, and he thought that I would be a good source of information on possible hidden treasures around the world. Half of those old myths are written in ancient Para code. I was his treasure hunter. I'm half the reason why his money pit is so large."
Jake only shrugged. "Continue, then."
"All you can say is continue?" Anastasia asked, though it elicited no response, "Fine. Anyway, remember your friend Brad?"
"Brad Rainer? Yeah, I remember him. What about him?"
"He's a doppelganger."
"Who was his original?" he asked, knowing enough about the copycats to know that they could life for a long time, changing form from person to person.
"This time around, it was a kid named Jared Green. Lives in Idaho, far away from here. Brad was placed in the school to find the best student to change to a werewolf. Happened to be you. My liaison with you was at first merely my job- that bastard Chu would just have found someone else to do it. Even if he had to have some big thug bite or scratch you or worse."
"How the heck did he know or think that I'd even go along with it?" asked Jake, sparing the incredulity from his voice. He wanted to make sure that he was emotionally centered.
"Everyone does, Jake. You end up on the side of the road or in an alley, and one of his agents is right there to pick you up and offer you aid."
"And how did he think that I would actually have sex with you?" said Jake.
Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Please, with all you know about werewolves, normal humans, and drunk college men? I bet Chu that you would be mine within forty minutes. We were on our way back to my hotel room in twenty."
Jake was slightly steamed by that comment, mostly because it was true. Most human-form Paras had a strange inherent magnetism that drew people to them. It made perpetuating the virus easier.
"And you did so well for your first time! Probably the most wonderful sex I've had in a long time. Especially considering you're a human!" she said with a laugh, though she ceased when she saw the serious look on his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that it was such sensitive knowledge," she said, shaking her head with the tiniest hint of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "I assume that you have been abstinent since this whole thing started."
Jake snorted. "Yes. I'm not as wanton with my condition as you seem to be."
"The last bit I have to tell you that can prove my side of the story. The bar that we met in is a Para bar now. If you go back into the records, you can see that one of Chu's shell companies bought the place shortly before our nightly romp. All of it to bring you into the fold."
Jake gave her a dirty look, but said nothing.
Anastasia stood up and walked over to him. She was a werewolf now, but she was about his human height. Not intimidating, despite the claws and teeth. He even took the opportunity to smell her. The unique bouquet of lilac, summer rain, and baked bread filled his nostrils.
"I guarantee you that I'm not lying," she said with a completely straight face, eyes not even wavering.
Jake did not turn his back to her; he merely reached out and plucked his jacket off the coat rack.
"How do I know you won't leave or give another unfortunate man our problem?" he asked, still testy but now more confused than anything.
"I won't leave. I'm tired of running. It's been five years since I've been able to stay put, with that bastard dragon shuttling me around the globe just to bring him more money…If you resolve this, you will be rewarded. Personally and monetarily."
Jake only grunted. "If I find that any ounce of this is out of line, I will be back. And I won't be anywhere near as civil."
She watched him leave the room, slamming the door shut behind him with an echo that reverberated throughout the mostly empty room.

[Knight]

Whoa, that's a nice plot twist.

[Jim Prower]

Okay, now I'm hooked.