Fuck, you really dropped the ball on this one,[M/N].
First you drink on the job, get in a fist fight with a drunk civilian, then you get the shit kicked out of you by the beast that's been killing your friends.
You really are a let, aren't you?
No matter, you've been claimed by the Black Goat of the Woods. You're his beast now.
But you're no hunter, so you run through the dark woods. You're being chased by something. Was it your fears? Your failures? Something more, maybe...
You're weak. You had the taste of blood in your mouth, but your frail, pitiful and limited body wasn't made for the Hunt.
Slow. No claws. Dull, mashing teeth meant for chewing cud, like the rest of the Prey.
Rain sputters down on you, though it's red, and sticks to your skin and fur like napalm.
The wind crashes against you, slowing you down for the kill.
But as always, Lady Luck finds you, and you manage to get out of the woods, and into a grassy clearing.
You can see it now. The Blood Moon. The Siring of The Great Hunt is upon you. Men that shift to animals under the Lunar phases descend upon South Park like flies on shit.
A man on a rock bellows to you, calling you into joining the glorious Hunt.
You wanted to go, the Beast inside you raged, wanting to claim what was rightfully his, now. But many hands held you back. They were comforting, wishing to guide you away and into a light.
You could not see their faces, though their smells were familiar. You wanted to be surrounded by them at all times.
Before they could take you to safety, a dark mist was cloaked around you, and great wolf, as big as a school bus descended upon you...
You should probably wake now. Lots of work ahead of you, [M/N]...
Tuesday, January 12, 2007
Gasping awake, you clutched your chest in shock. Staring at a white ceiling, you quickly dart your head up from the pillow, eyes looking around the strange room you've been placed in. Looking down, you appear to be wearing some kind of hospital robe. A sudden throbbing in your head makes you groan, feeling the worst migraine that could kick a hangover's ass.
Your thoughts barely collect themselves, realising you had been placed here in hospital.
"Oh shit, you're awake!" A voice calls beside you, seeing it belonged to a middle aged ginger man, with a slightly impressive moustache. "Chief Harrison...?" You mutter, squinting your eyes confused, as he slowly sits back down on the bed side chair. "Easy, son... you've had a rough night." Harrison begins, handing you a glass of water, which you slowly sip. The tooth pain from yesterday was gone.
"What... What happened to me...?" You groan, situating yourself into a seating position. The events of last night was blurry, the only thing prominent coming to mind was a fight between you and the beast. You lost.
"After the encounter with the killer, four boys managed to ram their truck into him. Saving your life, it looks like." The Chief explain, picking up a notepad and going over some notes. "Good news, no South Park residents died thanks to you, just some little Denver twerps." He goes down the list, laughing a bit at the deaths of those from Denver. A little harsh.
"Bad news, the guy got away. We questioned the boys that brought you to hospital, but they all said the same thing; 'he got up and ran away'. after a pickup runs someone down, they usually stay that way..." Harrison finishes, grimacing slightly from your appearance. He was actually shocked you've woken, Doc said you would be in a coma for a few weeks at most, judging by your wounds. "I just wanted to make sure we've got every detail on the fucker. Anything you wanted to add." The middle age man questions, pen ready on his notepad.
You were about to answer, but you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a wall mirror, next to Harrison's chair. "What the FUCK?!" You shout, surprisingly springing out of bed and walking towards the mirror. Taking the bandage that was wrapped around your head off, you began inspecting your face in the mirror.
[Your P.O.V]
My fuckin face! There was a large scar, on the left side of my face, starting from my eyebrow, and raking all the way down my cheek, until stopping at my chin. My lip and eye seemed untouched, but that brought little comfort to me. "No offence, but you weren't ever the most handsome guy in the room..." Harrison quips, making me give a dirty glare from the comment. Prick.
The door suddenly opens, revealing what looks to be, a doctor. The woman looks shocked, quickly closing the door and rushing over towards me. "You're awake?!" She exclaims, checking me over like she was my damn mother.
She tries to move me back towards the bed, but I shrug her off. "Look lady, I'm fine. Just give me my shit, 'an I'll be out of here." I say agitated. She fuckin' stunk of perfume, like she had taken off the cap and sprayed it up my nose. "Sir, I'm fraud you can't leave just ye-" — "It's fine, Doc, the kid is clearly made from sterner stuff." Harrison says from behind, coming over and placing a hand on my shoulder, whilst giving the Doctor a small, strained smile. I could smell his shitty cologne too, like whiskey and oak. The both of their smells honestly made wanna vomit, but I manage to hold back.
The Doctor looked like she was going to protest, but she sighs. "I don't think it's a good idea, but I'll go get your discharge letters." She plainly states, before leaving the room without further comments. Maybe because the Chief is here, and she felt she had to do what he said...
"What time is it?" I ask, seeing that there was still light outside. Looked rather early, actually. The Chief checks his watch, grumbling under his breath a few moments. "Er, it's just gone half-past seven, in the morning. Why?" The older man questions, as I walk over towards my clothes that were perfectly folded up on a table. Next to them was a teddy bear, holding a comically large heart. And next to that was a card.
"Toughen the fuck up." Is what it says, making me laugh under my breath.
"Can you drive me to school, after we're done here?" I ask, hearing Harrison cough from behind me. "Y'sure kid? Don't 'cha think you should have a few days off?" He questions, making me slightly irked from all the fawning over. "I said I'm good." I grunt out, wanting to be out of this shit-hole and back on the streets where I need to be.
Opening the card, I inspect the four names written down. Seems like it was the guys who saved me, noticing it was Kyle's eloquent handwriting. Always the perfectionist.
Get better soon,
From Kyle, Stan, and Lardass.
Love from Kenny - I took your car home. ;)
PS, Stan fucked up his truck saving you, so you owe him...
I smile, placing the card inside my coat pocket, before looking back to Harrison. "I need 'a' change, so y'know, get the fuck out. Sir."
[Time Skip]
"Think anyone is gonna notice...?" I ask, looking at my new 'facial addition' in the sun-visor mirror of Harrison's car. Through the corner of my eye, I could see his shit eating smirk. "You're kidding, right? Bruised, scarred and with that constant pissed off look on yer' face, no wonder why you ain't got much friends." He laughs boisterously, pulling up outside of the school entrance. As much of a terrible asshole this guy is, he's been more of a father to me, than my actual one is. "You could've said 'no', asshole." I grumble, opening the door to get out, but just before I step out, Harrison grabs my shoulder.
"And, uh, son... On a serious note, boys in Forensics have ID on a body in the morgue. After school, I need you to head over and tell the family about their deceased." He explains, making me sigh through my nose. I always hated getting that job, and most of time I'm the one getting the short end of the stick from the grieved family. "Who's the deceased?" I mutter, not really wanting to know the name. Harrison looks over his notes, flipping a few pages. "Girl's name is Tricia Tucker, we found her severed h-" — "Yeah I don't wanna fuckin' hear what your 'ghouls' found. Fuck!" I growl, getting out and slamming the car door behind me.
Fuck! Why'd it have to be her of all people! I'm never gonna be able to look Craig in the eyes again. Marching towards the school entrance, I could hear some people staring at me and whispering towards each other, making me slightly agitated. I honestly wish I didn't come to school now, but I can't afford to be behind on my classes. I've already got Kyle giving me tutoring lessons on weekends, and when I can find the time.
My stomach growls, realising I haven't eat anything in days, powering myself of coffee and cigarettes. Even Kenny would have a better meal plan than me. Strangely enough, I don't feel weak or lethargic though, rather rejuvenated actually. Strange. Maybe after getting some rest, I'm back to full strength. Did they give me painkillers? I can't really feel any of my recent wounds too, and the scar healed weirdly fast. I've been taking punches all my life, so I must've developed some kind of endurance for pain by now...
Going through the front door, I'm overwhelmed once again by extremely strong smells, only this time it's mostly a mix of deodorant, unwashed teenagers and... angst? I can't describe it any other way.
"Shit, what class do I have first?" I mutter to myself, pulling out my flip phone to look at picture of my timetable. I groaned, seeing maths was the first thing, which means I'll be sharing a class with Kenny. Which isn't too bad, except I haven't had my morning smoke yet, so I hope I ain't short with them. He did save my life, after all. Need a way to repay them...
"[M-M/N]...?" A voice call's from behind, making me turn around. Upon seeing Marj- I mean, Leopold, I smile at the smaller blonde. Well at least I think I am, my smiles pretty fucked up now, thanks to the scar. "Hey, Butters." I greet, opening my locker, that was conveniently next to his, to get some textbooks. "I h-heard about last night... I thought you would be in hospital." Butters shyly smiled, rubbing his knuckles together innocently. I hum in acknowledgment, shutting the locker to face him, then suddenly I'm hit with a wave of vanilla and coconut, like a Hawaiian punch just got sat down in front of me. It was almost intoxicating, yet I liked it. "Yeah, getting banged up is apart of the job..." I mutter, not wanting to divulge much information with the little sweetheart. His light blue eyes, one milky white, blink innocently at me, studying my face. "That's a pretty handsome scar, [M/N], like you're a gruff comic Hero or somethin'!" He smiles enthusiastically, bobbing on the heels of hit feet. He really was too pure. Well, he's done questionable shit in the past, be we all have.
I honestly didn't expect that kind of reaction from someone, but it did make me feel slightly better about myself. The only one who really compliments my looks is Kenny, but he's got a personality of a dog in a rut. Still made me smile though, from time to time. I don't care much about my looks, obviously, but I still have a bit of self pride. "Thanks, Leo. Nice aftershave you're wearing, by the way." I compliment, before walking away from his slightly confused face.
Just before the bell rings, I manage to make it into maths class, dreading the next few hour. I'm barely skimming by, and through Kyle's help, I'll just scrape a passing grade at the end of school. I make my way to my usual seat, the usual dirty looks I receive from people are replaced with either shock, and even some smiles too. It's strange, but I don't really mind it. I was gonna sit down, but a tap on the back makes me gruffly sigh, already having enough of dealing with people this morning. Turning around, I see a very happy looking Bebe, definitely better for sore eyes than she was last night.
"Hey, [N/N]. How're you holding up?" She asks, calling me a weird nickname. My eyes drifted to a few of her friends standing idly behind her, giggling and laughing at me.
"Your perfume is an assault on my fuckin' senses..." I think in my head, as I give her a forced smile.
"I'd say 'bout the same as always; Shit." I dryly answer, making her laugh lightly, whilst whisking a piece of her curly blonde hair behind her ear. "I just wanted to say thanks, for last night. Pretty hot of you, to jump into danger like that." She casually flirts, tracing a finger down my sleeve whilst biting her glossed lip. "Careful, you might make Clyde jealous." I chuckle awkwardly, not really liking the touch, but I couldn't exactly tell her to go fuck herself.
I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder, and through seeing the tatted orange parka in my peripheral vision, I could already guess who it was. "Clyde's been pissed at you since sixth grade, ever since you broke his nose against the swing set, not much else could make him more upset with you." Kenny announces, looking at my face whilst pulling down his own hood to reveal his sun kissed, tanned face. "Look at us! We're twins!" He shouts, annoyingly pressing our faces together... to compare our scars I guess?
I growl slightly, lightly pushing Kenny off me, making him snicker. "The difference is that [M/N] doesn't go around sucking half the guys in our school, off..." Bebe chides bitterly, making Kenny chuckles, but I could see some sadness and anger behind his eyes, at the claim. Bebe gives me one last smile, before walking back over to her desk across the classroom.
"Stuck up, bitch..." Kenny whispers under his breath, but I still pick it up. "Well, looks like nearly everyone in school thinks you're a Hero now." Kenny congratulates, but I snarl at the thought. "I save one preppy cheerleader and I'm loved, but I get shivved in a back alley by a crack head, and suddenly I'm on everyone's shit list..." I exclaim, not really liking the feeling. Everyone hated me for all this time but now they want to be buddy-buddy with me? Fuck that. "Feelings are weird, bro. Don't worry, you're still mostly feared and hated." Kenny continues, slapping my back in a brotherly way.
"I'd rather be feared, than loved. Do y'know who said that?" I ask, seeing Kenny pull a grin. "Some sad asshole, with no friends." He answers, as we both sit down in our desks, next to each other. Smirking at his answer, I flick the scarred blonde in the side of the head. "Wise ass..." I mutter, getting my text book out.
"Oh... and thanks for, y'know, saving my ass last night. All of you. Anything you need, I've got your back." I say, genuinely smiling at Kenny, who smiles back the same way. The smell of honey and mint, as well as something more darker, radiates off him suddenly, as a small red hue covers his cheeks. "Well, yah could always treat a bro to breakfast, sometime..." Kenny lazily smirks, wiggling his eye brows suggestively, making my eyes widen. I cough in my hand slightly, at the bold prospect. "I'll take your horny ass to a Denny's for breakfast, tomorrow or somethin'..." I mutter, seeing him smirk in victory. Smug little shit...
Before anything else could be said, our teacher strolls into class with a grumpy, pissy look on their face. It's gonna be a long few hours, I can feel it...
[Time Skip]
The bell rings, signalling lunch has begun. Packin' away my shit, I leave the class with Kenny in tow, dumping our stuff into the lockers before heading to the cafeteria.
"Fuck, I'm starvin'. I haven't eaten in days." I mutter, gaining a weird look from Ken. "Bro, you say that and - *slaps your chest* - you've got muscles like a fuckin' Greek God." Kenny laughs, as I look down at myself. Sure I ain't no slouch, but was I always this muscly? Feels like I could bench one of the cafeteria tables, with everyone sitting on it. Maybe If policing doesn't work out, I could be a gym instructor. Nah, I'm way too fuckin' mean to constantly encourage others. "Lucky genetics, I guess..." I mutter, as we both start getting into the line for food.
"Hey, I know you already said you'll take me out 'an everything, but could you buy me somethin' here too. It's fine if it's not much bu-" — "It's fine, Ken, don't worry your redneck ass about it." I chuckle, seeing him smile is my side vision. "I'm gonna order a fuckin' truck load anyways, so take home anything I don't eat." I mutter towards the smaller blonde, earning a small laugh from him. "I'm sure Karen will like that..." Kenny muses. Ah yeah, his little sister. I've seen her a fair amount of times over the years, seeing as she's glued to Kenny's side whenever they're at home, or out as a family. Good kid... She's Tricia's age, making me swallow a lump in my throat. The thought of Kenny losing his sister like that, it'd destroy him.
"I know you don't need me telling you this, but keep her at home, during nights. I don't really need that in the back of my mind when I'm out on patrol, that my best friend's sister being hurt..." I explain quietly, as to not to get anyone else's attention on the matter. I look towards Kenny, seeing his serious expression, one that I rarely see, because the guy takes everything except his sister, as a joke. "Don't worry, I've been keeping her safe long before this murderer showed up." Kenny determinedly says, and I couldn't help but feel slightly inspired, by his devotion to family.
After getting food, we walk towards the tables, and I started feeling slightly nervous, even if I was sitting with Kenny, Kyle, Stan and Eric. Somehow the blonde sensed my hesitation, and gently rubbed my back comfortably. I was so used to being alone in school most of the time, I guess I got too comfortable with being a background character.
Sitting down, I'm greeted by Kyle and Eric, but I don't see Stanley. "Where's Marsh?" I question, throwing Eric a doughnut, I had bought from the cafeteria. His heterochromatic gaze lingers on me a few moments, before starting to eat. "He's with his faggy Goth friends, out the back." Cartman explains, before pointing at my bruised and battered appearance. "Your face looks like shit." He smirks, making me chuckle. Kyle slaps away his hand. "No it doesn't, Fatass! It adds... character." Kyle explains, smiling towards me. "Like your big Jew nose that sits on your face like a beak?" Eric retorts, successfully getting a rise from the pale skinned Jewish boy, seeing as his cheeks and ears started to get red. Me and Kenny look at each other, snacking away, whilst the two bicker amongst themselves. My money would clearly be on Kyle, if they ever got in a fight, but Eric is surprisingly strong and isn't afraid to fight dirty. "Christ, shut the fuck up, both of you." I chuckle, but seriously say, clutching my head slightly from the small recurring migraine. The two settle down, but I could see them both giving nasty glares towards each other. You'd think after all this time, the two would get along. Well, they're friends, as much as they'd probably deny saying that, but they're together often. I guess they're both as bad as each other when it comes to bickering.
"Who... what the fuck was that thing anyway, from last night?" Kyle suddenly questions, in a hushed tone. The three boys were looking at me for answers, that I didn't have just yet. Sighing through my nose, I gave a shrug. "I don't know, but it spoke to me. I can't remember much from the fight with it, but it hit unlike anything I've felt before. He also gave me this." I finish, pointing towards my scar.
"How come it's healed so fast, dude? It looks like it's been there a while, despite it happening last night..." Kyle mutters, reaching out to touch my face. I didn't object, but at the same time, his touch made me freeze up. As soon as his slim, cold fingers started tracing my scar, Kyle let out an explosive smell, just like Kenny and Butters had done. The freckled ginger had a smell of homemade pastries about him, like a fuckin' fairytale bakery. I hear Kenny scoff, in the background, whilst Cartman was looking slightly pissed off at the interaction. I just awkwardly let Kyle satisfy his curiosity.
"What's up with all my friend's smelling so good?" I thought to myself, watching Kyle retract his hand, still red in the face.
His wobbly smile was kind of cute, actually. "So, what are you doing after school? I've got basketball practice if you wanna see." Kyle suggests, his big emerald eyes beaming with hope.
I rub the back of my neck, feeling slightly guilty. The guy helps me with my work, and the least I can do it be there and support him with his hobbies, but I couldn't. "I would if I could, Kyle. But I've gotta work..." I explain, seeing his smile falter, instead it gets replaced with a small frown, and a scolding gaze. "Dude, you almost died, take a fuckin' chill pill..." Eric pipes up from across the table, gaining my attention. "As much as I hate agreeing with Cartman, you probably need to just stop, for a while at least." Kyle pitches him, making me grip my jeans under the table in frustration. "[M/N], you know we care for you, bro, but you're gonna get yourself killed..." Kenny finishes, placing a gloved hand on my shoulder.
Sighing through my nose, I just pass my tray towards the blonde, before getting up from the table. "Thanks for the card." I simply state, before walking out the cafeteria, a bit pissed off. How could they fuckin' say that? I'm busting my ass, every night, to catch this fucker. And they're talking down to me like I'm a mentally challenged toddler! I need a smoke, and maybe a drink...
Going through the back door, I'm greeted by fresh air. Kind of. There's a lotta smoke out here. "Oh whoopee, it's the Sheriff." A tired, sarcastic voice calls to my left. Oh great, Goths. I have nothing against them, but they were such a fuckin' drag, and a pain in the ass to get answers out of. "Deputy Sheriff, but thanks..." I mutter, beginning to light my own cigarette. I walk down the ramp, seeing Stan sitting on the ground, listening on his IPod, wearing headphones, and not yet noticing me.
"Whatever..." Michael mutters, taking a drag of his smoke. "What the fuck happened to your face?" Henrietta asks, rudely, as I nudge Stan's shoulder with my foot, ignoring the Goth, and getting his attention. His sapphire eyes widen in recognition, ripping off his headphones before quickly standing up to greet me. The guy only reached up to about my shoulders, but his ego far exceeded that on some days. If he was hanging around with this fun crew, he's been feeling pretty shitty lately. "What gives, poser? You said Columbo here, was in a coma." Pete speaks up, flipping his red dyed hair, before standing up next to Stan.
"Coma? I was barely out eight hours. Lying is a bad trait, Stanley. And I'm good at sniffing them out." I chuckle, ruffling his bleached hair, making him slap it away in an exaggerated huff.
"I weren't fuckin' lying, dude. After we rushed your ass to the hospital, the Doctors... said you'd stop breathing for a while... and maybe died, or something? Scared the Hell outta me." Stan mutters the last bit, rubbing his arm meekly. I was slightly shocked, by the information. "Wait... I fuckin' died? Those assholes didn't mention that!" I grunted, before taking a drag from my smoke. I groan, the splitting migraine from earlier returning, but I do my best to ignore it. I could really go with a whiskey right now, and a vodka to chase it down with. I couldn't give a fuck where and who I'd get it from...
"Sorry about your truck. If you want, I can bitch to City Hall about getting it fixed, without you paying shit." I chuckle, leaning against the wall whilst Stan stood next to me. "I 'ppreciate it, but Craig's dad is fixin' her up for me. Don't worry about it." Stan smiles, and through the smell of cigarettes butts and weed radiating from him, I could distinctly make out oak, pine and the evening sky. He smelled like autumn life, yet he constantly reeked with sadness at the same time.
"So, how does it feel, to be beaten almost to death." Pete asks, staring me down with his intense maroon eyes. The lack of smirk from his slightly plump lips suggests, he was just actually asking what I felt. "I guess... peaceful, in a weird, fucked up way." I begin, taking another drag of my cigarette, before flicking it against the wall. "It was like I was floating away at one point, like I was just watching the whole thing happen to me." I continue, staring him in the eyes.
"Then I woke up in a hospital bed, and I realise that I have to keep goin' with the bullshit. No peace. No rest. The punches keep comin'..." Finishing, I let out a sigh, looking down at my bruised, bloodied knuckles from last night.
"Woah, that's pretty hardcore." Pete mutters, slowly rubbing his cold, pale thumb over my knuckles gently.
"You don't know the half of it, Hot Topic."