Chaos Rising

9

Void

"Where is my son?" Sheriff Stilinski steps forward, his voice urgent.

I look at Scott, his face pale, drained of any colour, and I raise an eyebrow. "Why don't you ask McCall here?" I give them a grin. "He knows the truth, don't you Scotty?"

"Scott?" Lydia and the Sheriff say at the same time.

"I- I don't- I don't know." His eyes flicker from me, to the rest of his pack. "He was with us this morning, we were all there. I was talking to him right before the girl got hit on her bike, he said he was going to get you some food because-" Scott trails off, his gaze moving to me. "You set it all up." His eyes narrow. "The girls bike, her breaks weren't attached properly... that was all you, wasn't it?" He concludes, my face remains blank, neutral. "You son of a-"

"God, you really are stupid, aren't you." I interrupt. "You couldn't even tell the difference between us. None of you could." I chuckle under my breath. "I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends? His pack? I don't think you realize it, but none of you would be alive right now if it weren't for him. And maybe if you listened to him sooner you wouldn't be two members short." Malia is the first to break, she lunges at me, claws bared. I tilt my head slightly to the right, feeling the rush of wind as her nails brush my cheek.

Gosh. Why does she telegraph so much? It's like dodging a slow motion punch, all too easy. She stumbles forward, bracing herself on the couch as I stand up, my eyes dancing over one angry face to another. I can hear Stiles in my head, I won't tell them as much, of course not. It's going to be fun watching their expressions fall when Scott tells them my false truth. The will break apart, shattering like a fractured mirror before me. Some of them will try to fight me, some of them might cry, and some will just sit down and let the information sink in.

I see Deaton step forward with a syringe in hand, neon yellow liquid sloshing around inside.

Wolf Lichen.

That is a surprise.

I make a split second decision, doing something that might not even be possible. Stiles hates me, he will never agree to what I'm about to ask him. But what are the odd chances that he says yes? What if I convince him? We would be unstoppable, his friends would be trying to save someone who doesn't need saving.

Him saying yes would make everything so much easier. So, with a smirk, I start a conversation in our mind.

I have a proposition for you, Stiles.  I tell him.

Does it include you going straight to Hell?  He shoots back, unsarcastically.

At some point, yes. But that is a long ways away from now. I find myself smirking at his remark. I can't kill you, you know that, and your friends can't kill me without killing you as well. So, Stiles, I would like to offer you a truce.

The boy scoffs. I didn't really think you'd be the type to go around waving a white flag screaming 'truce, truce' when something doesn't go your way. You kind of came off as the 'leave no survivors' type of guy... or evil fox spirit... whatever.

Funny. Now listen to me. I block an attack from Kira, her katana slicing just over my head, cutting a few strands of hair clean from my head. You're weak, Stiles. You have no powers, no supernatural abilities, your friends will always see you as uncapable, helpless. It doesn't matter what you do, you will end up messing up. It is inevitable. And it is only a matter of time before you make an unforgivable mistake. You're expendable to them. And you will continue being the defenseless, weak boy unless you do something about it.