"Chapter nine: Werewolves

Werewolves are one of the most popular 'mythological' creatures second only to vampires. They are typically seen as aggressive because of their animal counterpart, although this varies on species and

location. The most common theory of the Werewolf is that they transform into their other form in the light of the full moon (H-W)*, another popular theory is that they have full control over their transformation and they live together in groups called packs (A,B,M,O)** similar to that of wolves, however we are yet to see any evidence significantly pointing to that.

What is known about them is that, while they are not as magical and 'supernatural', they are extremely

different to humans. Having a faster metabolism and endurance allows them to go for long distances

even when poisoned (which is why it is not a commonly used hunting tactic.)

The most common and efficient way is to simply trap the creature and drug it. See page 493 for traps.

Turn to next page for trapping using drugs.

Footnotes for page:

*Human to Wolf

**Alpha, Beta, Middle (sometimes called Delta) and Omega."

The sound of growling cut my reading off, the ugly mass of fur, a mix of both human and wolf was

staring at me with ferocious animalistic eyes. The wind picked up slightly and blew through both of our

hair, my red hair flowing in front of me and its fur blowing back. It looked as though someone had tried

desperately to recreate the popular monster icon and had only partially succeeded. It looked more

human than wolf, like someone had gotten a ten foot tall well built human, covered them in fur, changed

the bone structure slightly and stitched a dog's head, paws and tail on the poor guy. No wonder this guy

looked like the social reject, he was as ugly as my uncle's rear when he had finished running a marathon, or like a furry. Either way, not a pretty sight.

I turned back to my book and flipped through a few pages, the rest was talking about the whole "Moonlight' nonsense of 'falling in love because of mates blah blah blah'. I closed the

book and set it on the mildly damp grass besides me. I scooted closer to the monster in chains in front

of me, the sheep 'Baartha' grazing unafraid although the creature in front of her had just tried to kill her

no less than ten minutes ago. A dam brave sheep. I snickered lightly at my sheep pun. Wait is that a

sheep pun, or do I just have the wool pulled over my eyes? Thank you, thank you I'm here all week. The

growling wolf pulled me from my comedic stupor and I turned to pout annoyedly at it.

This damn wolf thing had been terrorizing the farming community by eating livestock, causing farmers'

to lose quite a loss to their livelyhood. Now me being the young, rebellious little scamp that I was, told

everyone that I was a certified wolf hunter, not knowing that I would have to actually catch the thing and

not just piggy back on someone else's success since no one else wanted to do it. And on my only holiday no less. With much groaning and self-directed comments that involved cursing, I started to work out a plan to catch this thing.

The trap was simple, Baartha was bait since she was old anyway and was standing in front of a trap

that activated a mechanism that wrapped chains around its unlucky victim. I wasn't allowed to use the

one that would electrify the ever living hell out of this beast - stupid animal rights activists - and therefore

sucked all the fun out of the experience.

Did I mention that trap could also act as an explosive? Who the hell wouldn't want that?

Either way, screw vegans.

I stood up and stretched, oh well, at least my job is done. In a lame attempt at brushing off the dirt and

leaves, I instead got it stuck to my hand which I definitely noticed with annoyance. The job was dirty but

it paid well. I picked up the book and walked over to the rented jeep that was parked a meter or so away,

having driven it here when I heard the trap go off. I opened the boot and threw the book somewhere in

there, I pulled out old as hell my shotgun and loaded it with tranqs. I pulled back the safety as I walked over to the creature again, I aimed my shotgun barrel toward the beast's head and steadied myself. Did I feel sorry for this creature whom I had just captured and planned to bring to my company's warehouse to dispose of? No.

Well, not more than the average person, especially after looking into its eyes.

Its eyes were fierce and determined, dark brilliant ember shining in the guise of the moonlight as it

growled. These were truly magnificent beasts, so yes, I did feel somewhat sorry for them, but that was

just human nature, everyone feels that way. It is not because it might remind you of your family pet Richie who died when you were seven and spent years depressed before you got another dog named Penny, who subsequently died as well.

It definitely did not.

I pulled back the trigger and the shotgun fired into the wolf's head. It roared and flung around recklessly, either responding to the noise or the shock of something being stabbed into

it without its consent, perhaps both. I pulled out my EyePhone and took a picture, you're generally

supposed to take a picture before you shoot it as an 'initial capture' sort of thing, but whatever, its good enough.

After a few pictures, I put my phone back into my pocket, I went back to the truck and started filling up the shotgun with actual shells, walking away from the writhing monster to shoot some rabbits to pass the time and also to make sure the wolf doesn't die from starvation. I couldn't stand to have another citation, my wages will get deducted again. Those damn corporeal sons of bachelors didn't know a mistake when they see one! And if that mistake had been me shooting my partner in the foot over an argument whether DS or Ravel was better to prove a point didn't make a difference. At least I had won that fight, even if I went hungry for two days because of it. It is definitely DS. Fight me.

I aimed for a fluffy brown bunny that was nervously sniffing a flower but before I could shoot, the wolf's

growls shooed it away. I cursed in an unladylike manner and turned to the wolf again,

"Just bugger off to sleep you retarded excuse for a furry." It growled aggressively in response yet did

nothing to try to attack me, the narcotic is running slowly but effectively through its body, loosening

muscles and making the brain fog up.

I mean, that's what I assume is happening, and what John told me what happened, how he knew I don't

know. Well, he DID try to see whether a pistol or a shotgun's ammunition hurt more...

As I ponder the questionable habits that my superior has, the wolf's growls quietened remarkably and then slowly started to nod off to sleep. I grabbed the end of the chain that wasn't attached to the wolf and hooked it up to the jeep, I did a once over to make sure I have everything before I had to leave. Once I'm happy with only minimal destruction done to the wildlife, I got into the jeep and started it up. It stalled so I stopped and turned the key again, only to have it stall again, I groaned and kicked the old junk. Stupid heap of- the abuse seemed to work and the jeep started up.

I smirked to myself and start to drive away, both the jeep and the wolf groaning its disapproval, one at having to drag something across the forest floor and the other being dragged across the forest floor. Just for fun I make sure to drive over rocks and bumps, snickering when

I heard a little huff or groan each time I did so. I found the forest path that I drove in off of and followed

that on an upwards slope, to my simple minded amusement the road was littered with stones and rocks.

Every once in a while there was a claw mark on a tree and I made a mental note to tell Vic, the cleanup

guy to chop them. There's no bears here and it'd be tough to explain where these huge marks

came from. I don't know whether they were to mark territory or whatever, but they were unsettling as hell. I suuddered and was glad that we lived in the modern era where we had sophisticated and advanced traps instead of having to fight with these devils hand to claw.

I slowed down and carefully turned off the forest path and onto the rarely used dirt road that led to the

back of town where my large semi-truck and trailer were. Creatures like Werewolves and Vampires were

not common knowledge to the public, so the company had to take extra precautions to make sure they

weren't discovered. We didn't want panic to errupt among the populace, not until we know how to fight

these things efficiently, they have amazing regenerative bodies and can take a fair few of hits directly to

the heart with a shotgun and even after that they still weren't dead.

'Knowledge is power, power is efficiency, and efficiency makes more profit' as our loving director would

say. Although I have a strange feeling he took that from somewhere...

The dirt road was smooth so I couldn't run over any rocks, to my utter disappointment, but at least I

could get to my truck fast, load the wolf up, take it to the 'Dog House' and then get my paycheck faster. I hummed happily to myself thinking of what I could have for dinner, maybe I should spoil myself and get a steak. Living off of packeted noodles was, as you can imagine, not very exciting. But I finally have some money! Maybe I should also splurge on a new outfit. I picked at one of the many holes in my shirt, I should definitely think about getting one soon, this thing has been both with and on me since my preteens. Maybe I could even start gambling, never tried it but John always either looks ecstatic or depressed whenever he comes back from the casino.

I would also love to-

A bump made the wolf groan in resigned discontentment, I smirked. Well, at least we're getting these

guys off the streets and into cages, where they belong. If they were more like actual wolves, bats and

other general creatures, we wouldn't have to do this, but they are. It's somewhat easy money, couple

grand for a catch which isn't too bad, however it depends how frequent you're sent out and other finances. Also depends on how much you boot lick, which explains why I don't get a lot of money.

As I drive, I take in the scenery, the wind passing through the trees made them appear like they were

dancing. It's rare that I get the chance to be out in this kind of environment, usually it's a sewer or

a dump, but this is actually really... beautiful. I took a deep breath and smiled, the light flittering

through the trees gently in the otherwise dark and mysterious forest night. It truly was spectacular.

Memories surfaced as I watched the passing scenery, some good times and others not so much. I clutched my chest and fought tooth and nail to keep some tears from falling, "Dammit Richie," I sobbed, "I told you not to eat that cockroach!" When the depression finally stopped drowning me, I sat up in my seat and refocused back onto the road, steering a little to the left so I wouldn't crash into some trees.

The other memory that came to my mind was when

The sound the trees made when the wind blew through them was eerily familiar. The pressing of the

shotgun against my thigh and the fact that I was in a vehicle filled to the brim with ammunition and

another shoutgun in the back along with another handheld pistol in the glove compartment were the

only things that didn't make me feel completely defenseless. The shuffling of leaves and the tell tale

sound of padding against the ground had the hair on the end of my neck stand on end. My trigger

finger was itching incredibly so. That could only mean-

My eyes widened and I slam the breaks, the car jolting to a stop and within seconds have my shotgun

in my hands aimed in front of me. There, in all its wild animalistic glory, stood another wolf.