Jameson
Waking up in a cage hardly bigger than my wolf body was a barrel of laughs. Not.
What was even more delightful was having a tank of hot, human blood poured over me from a silver walkway above my head. Yeah. That was really great.
But just when I thought the fun was over, an iron shutter pulled up before me and someone rammed an electric prod into my rear end. I yelped, charging forward, my paws hitting sand a moment later.
Lights blinded me.
I skidded to a halt, finding myself in a vast amphitheater, spotlights pouring down on me from above. A ten foot wall ringed the circular space, offering me no way out.
A door opened before me and I bolted toward it, unable to fully comprehend what was happening, but knowing I wanted the heck out of there at all costs. The noise from the crowd was cacophonous but my senses were dulled, my ears ringing. I was groggy from whatever drug they'd injected me with to transport me here.
My heart free-fell in my chest at the sight before me; a haggard V sped from the doorway, bony, its clothes in tatters, its mouth open and drooling fangs bared. I hit the brakes, tumbling clumsily in the sand. The Vampire lunged at me, filthy claws reaching, scraping the air.
I rolled hastily and a veil of sand flew out from my fur.
It was fast, but I was faster.
Up on my paws in seconds, I fled. The scent of human blood was overpowering on my coat, so it must have been tenfold to the V chasing me.
The crowd roared excitedly and I had no idea who they were rooting for. But whether they wanted me to be their victor or not, I was damn well going to be. Because this was not how Jameson Fairfax went out.
Nope. Not here. Not today. Not at the dirty hands of this stinking V.
Teeth sank into my shoulder and I immediately had my doubts. I snarled my pain, crunching my jaw around his shoulder. The Vampire didn't stop, despite the pain it must have been in, desperate to taste the blood on my body.
I shook it off by violently swinging to the side. It launched through the air from the force I used, crashing into the ground, rolling and rolling, spewing up sand.
The V dug its heels in, forcing itself upright and charging back at me. I ran too, flat out towards it, playing chicken. But I wasn't going to bail and neither was he. Squatting low, I sprang into the air at the last second, sailing over its head, its reaching claws grazing the fur on my stomach.
Hitting the ground with a thud, I spun around and sank my teeth into his leg.
The V crashed to the floor and I started dragging it backwards, not giving it a chance to get up. My paws left huge prints in the sand, each wiped away by the bleeding, snarling V as I dragged it over them.
Releasing my hold on its leg, I quickly pounced forward, pressing my weight onto its spine. Without thinking, I dropped down and tore at the V's neck. Blood seeped over my tongue; cold and sickly, making me want to retch up everything I'd eaten in the last week - not that that would amount to very much. I continued regardless, chomping and tugging until the V stopped fighting.
Tilting my head back, I howled my victory, my rage, my repulsion. And the crowd roared.
My heart galloped in my chest, speeding faster at the sight of two more Vs sprinting toward me from the shadows of the doorway.
My hackles rose and I lowered my head as I growled, standing over my previous kill to warn them what I was capable of.
Did it make a difference? Nope. Did it make me feel like a badass? Hella-yes.
With a howl that split the air apart, I charged down my new assailants. The female tangled her fingers into my fur, making horrible, grunting sounds of desperation. The male didn't get any closer as I launched forward, bringing him to the ground in one fell swoop. His overly long nails tore at my legs and I whined as I stooped down to end him. As I widened my jaw and crushed his skull between it with a sickening crunch, the female sank her fangs into my butt.
I yelped like a puppy, flinging myself around and tail-whipping the bitch off of me.
That's it, I thought. No one bites my arse unless I say so.
As I tore her down, a moment of regret passed through me. She was weak, confused and had no idea that I wasn't a source of food for her. But my life was worth more than a moment of pity. I would have died long ago if I hadn't learned that lesson yet.
Padding through the carnage, I turned to the crowd once more, finding the Helsings amongst them, raised up on what could only be described as a set of god damn thrones. I fixed my gaze on them, calm, waiting to be dismissed. Hoping I'd passed their sick test, despite myself.
Ignus stepped up to the podium, wearing a high-collared coat over a disgustingly expensive suit. “Let's see how the wolf fares against a stronger V.”
The crowd clapped and hooted. Some of them were definitely drunk, pumping their fists in the air, completely off their heads. What kind of people got their kicks out of death? I mean, I wasn't an idiot, I knew this kind of shit existed throughout history. People liked blood. Some craved it as much as Vs did, I suspected. A deep-rooted desire, hidden away beneath years of social decorum and 'civilisation'. But it remained in a few, stewing in a pot that occasionally overflowed and bred a period in history that would eventually be looked back on and branded as evil. But until then, here I was, bang at the heart of their blood games. And would the spectators take responsibility for it? Hell no. They'd slink back home to their real lives, safe in the knowledge that no one they cared about knew what a sad, sadistic bastard they really were.
But I liked a challenge. And if I ever got an opportunity to turn the tables, to expose these over-compensating-for-something creeps, I absolutely would take it.
A shadow shifted in the doorway and I turned, panting, tired from the fights I'd already won. Were they trying to kill me? How many more of these Vs was I gonna have to take on?
One step, two, then the V appeared. Floodlights spilled over his face, his torn white shirt and filthy jeans and matted, unruly hair. Varick looked like shit. But worse than that, he looked hungry as hell. His eyes were bloodshot and pinned on me, his shoulders tense, his body bent over, preparing to run.
I registered this all within the three seconds before he was upon me. And he might have been weak, but goddammit he was strong.
I snarled and snapped my jaw in warning, but he was in a frenzy, desperate for the blood on my body.
As his hands came down on my back, ripping at my fur, I threw my shoulder at him, shoving my weight into his solid chest so he stumbled back.
I turned, bowing my head, trying to get him to understand. But he wasn't my friend any more, he was a hollow shell, filled with blood-lust and nothing else.
He moved like the wind, left, right, back, forth, trying to confuse me. I raised my hackles, spinning, snarling, following his every move, my eyes flashing side to side. When he launched at me again, I was helpless to his strength, already weakened by my other fights. He locked an arm around my neck, heaving me against his torso.
Sinews pulled, something popped and I made a noise I'd be ashamed of forever if I ever lived to tell the tale.
I tried to sound out his name, but all I managed was a “Vraa,” sound through my teeth.
Varick used his free hand to shove me to the ground and I buckled, my legs failing beneath me. I kicked at the sand, writhing like a warthog in a lion's jaws.
Dead.
I was dead.
And if Varick ever regained consciousness he'd hate himself for it.
“We'll call it a tie,” Ignus's voice rang out through the stadium and a harsh buzzing sounded the end of the game.
Varick released me at once, crumpling to the floor, roaring in agony and clawing at the back of his head. His eyes were unfocused, his hair thick with sand and blood. I managed to get up on shaky legs, my heart finding a semi-normal rhythm again.
I moved to Varick's side, nudging him with the tip of my nose, but he wasn't present, lost to the agony of a silver shot injected into his bloodstream.
A man appeared in plated silver armour, holding a gun aimed at me and a pole with a loop on the end that he slid smoothly over Varick's neck.
Varick half-crawled, half stumbled after the man as he led him back into the darkness beneath the amphitheater.
My tongue hung out of my mouth as I fought to get down as much oxygen as I could.
Ignus was smiling; a horrible all-knowing smile that told me he knew I cared for Varick. And that shook me to my core.
“Please welcome, our newest attraction to the games!” Ignus called, reaching his arms out dramatically. “The Werewolf!”
At his word a needle dug into my neck from the collar. My vision swam before me and a ripple ran down my spine that could only mean one thing.
As my skin tore apart, the familiar agony blazed within my bones, bending, breaking, resetting, all so fast that it was too much pain to feel all at once. In moments, I was naked on the floor, as I had been so many times in my past, curled up, a man again, my head spinning.
My mouth was dry and sand caked one side of my body as I stood up. The spectators were clapping, some laughing, some holding their hands over their mouths in surprise.
I did the only thing I could do in that situation, naked at the heart of an arena with a crowd of men ogling me. I lifted my hands in the air, raising both middle fingers and turned slowly on the spot until I faced the Helsings.
Mercy was missing, I noted, but her mother Katherine looked rather amused. Abraham didn't.
Ignus however, looked pleased, a smile tugging up one side of his mouth. His sky-blue gaze snapped up from me to the spectators. “For those of you who have signed up for the V Experience, you will be seeing our new wolf friend very soon.”
A smattering of applause sounded. The door I'd entered through reopened and I noticed the men ringing the wall above me, aiming huge guns in my direction. I dropped my hands and stomped eagerly into my cage, the door sliding smoothly shut behind me to the sound of more applause. I was directed toward a larger cage than my previous one where a neat pile of clothes had been left for me. How kind.
I pulled them on, wincing at the deep bite on my butt thanks to that female V. Sitting down would be hard for a while. But that wasn't what was bothering me – well, alright, a butt-bite wasn't easily ignored – but the main thing on my mind was Varick. Because he wasn't him any more. Which meant he was either going to kill a lot of people, or get killed himself. And, dark as the thought was, I prayed he didn't get his consciousness back if he was destined to die. Because, if he was thrown into the games and started tearing girls apart, he was never going to forgive himself.