I, Loup-Garou

(Read description of story first ^^)

I ran, and I ran fast. Who wouldn't run when they're being chased by a huge mob of people with flashlights and guns? I can't fight guns with teeth, that would work out horribly for me, so I fucking ran.

If I can just get to the swamp, I was thinking, as I turned sharp corners around the streets of the French Quarter. Despite my superhuman abilities, I was barely staying ahead of the angry mob. They were yelling at me, firing bullets at my back that I tried to dodge, but I had been hit a couple times. I could feel blood trickling from the wounds, but I ignored it and turned other corner.

Shit! I realized I made a poor decision, because I had put myself right in the middle of Bourbon Street. It was late enough that drunk people were just milling around in the middle of the street. Others were fighting to get a spot in the bars that line the road, and others still were waiting to get into strip clubs. I had to keep going, so I sped down the road, jumping and dodging around people, occasionally crashing into somebody who stumbled into my path.

There were so many innocent people, that the mob stopped shooting at me. That was about the only good thing about Bourbon Street.

I was too far away from the swamp to run there without getting caught. I had an idea, but it was risky, stupid, and might get me killed. I looked behind me and the mob, now larger and laden with drunks, and knew it was the only way.

I took a left about halfway down Bourbon Street, and raced to beat the mob. Anybody who was still outside ducked into doorways or fled in different directions from me. I was getting close, as I could see the staircase that led to my destination.

I hoped as I jumped up the staircase that some of the drunks behind me would fall and slow the mob, and it worked. For a little bit the people were falling over each other, and some of their guns fell to the ground. I took this time to run to the edge of the platform.

I dived headfirst into the Mississippi River.

You know what? Before I go on, I'll tell you how I got here first, maybe that'll make more sense.

I was a typical teenager. 17, fucking gorgeous, full of myself, and stupid as hell. I lived in the French Quarter, and so did all my friends. We, being idiots, decided it would be a good idea to graffiti some houses and shops after dark.

Let me tell you, that was an awful idea.

There were four of us: me, Jade, Stiere, and Jackson. I was in no way the leader of my group, that was Stiere. She's a badass, always taking risks, doing stupid shit, and just generally being awesome. Jackson's her boyfriend, a tall muscular dude. His job is mostly helping us get onto roofs or move heavy objects. He doesn't always tag along, he's got his own group of delinquents. Jade is very much the opposite of Stiere. She's the level-headed, calm and collected one. She doesn't always agree with Stiere, and she tries to reason with her famous common sense. Screw that. I, Bailey, am somewhere in the middle of that. I like doing stupid shit, but sometimes I disagree with Stiere. For example, I thought graffitiing houses was a bad idea.

We met at Jade's house, but when Stiere walked through the door, Jackson didn't follow.

"Where's Jackson?" Jade asked.

"His friends also wanted to graffiti tonight, full moon and all, so we might see him," Stiere shrugged and sat down next to me.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I raised my eyebrow, "We don't have a house plan, and people can catch us pretty easily without Jackson."

"We don't have a house plan but I do!" Stiere giggled, "Anyways, you can run faster than Jade, so we'll be fine."

"Hey!" Jade shouted.