After attending the Winter formal, Bree Simmons knew something wasn't right. Things have changed, and she isn't sure if they're for better, or worse. As a rising photographer, all of her attention is on the mysterious happenings in Beacon Hills. Whe...
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
A whirring noise came from the garage section of the auto shop late that night. Stiles seemed genuinely concerned over his Jeep and decided to investigate what the mechanic was doing, which made Bree follow.
"What do you think you're doing?" Stiles quizzed the young mechanic, covered in oil, who was now working underneath Roscoe. "All I needed was a starter."
The blond-haired mechanic responded, continuing his work, "Yeah, but it looks like your whole exhaust system has gotta be replaced too."
Stiles' mouth was agape briefly before saying, "Why do I get the feeling that you're slightly overestimating the damage?"
"It's probably gonna run around, like, 1,200 parts and labor."
"Are you kidding?" Stiles exclaimed, "This thing doesn't even have a catalytic converter! And, yes, I know what a catalytic converter is."
Turning to face the teens, the mechanic asked, "And you know what a limited-slip differential is?"
"No," Stiles replied after a while, and several eye rolls.
"Yeah, you could run more like 1,500."
"Okay, just finish," Stiles sighed before he and Bree headed towards the back to sit down. "I'll be back here--seething with impotent rage," he muttered before he took hold of the door handle to the office which was covered in something slimy. Bree scrunched her nose in disgust while Stiles mocked the establishment, finally opening the door for them to file into. Forest-green eyes spotted a photo on the wall of the mechanic in a Beacon Hills Lacrosse uniform.
"Figures," Stiles mumbled before taking out his phone to text someone, but his hands wouldn't move.
"Stiles?" Bree inquired, walking over to him to make sure he was okay, but his eyes widened when he looked through the window to find the lizard creature on top of the Jeep. Bree gasped suddenly, scared of the situation as Stiles fell, paralyzed. She watched as Stiles told her to call 911, and she picked up his phone on the ground, her hands shaking as she dialed the number. Before she could press the last one, her view went over to the mechanic who was now crushed underneath Stiles' Jeep.
She could feel herself starting into a panic attack as she turned back to Stiles, who was now completely paralyzed.
"Bree, you're okay," he comforted, "Just dial 911."
Pressing in the one, she listened to the first ring before the reptilian creature came out of nowhere, hissing and scaring Bree half-to-death. She jumped and stood very still as the phone was pressed to her ear. Eventually, the lizard slithered away just as someone picked up on the last ring.
~ * ~
"I told you, we just-we walked in, and we saw the Jeep on top of the guy, that's all," Stiles repeated, sitting in the back of an ambulance vehicle next to Bree. He was obviously tired of lying to his dad about what actually went on in Beacon Hills.
