Tactically, they could use this to their advantage and hopefully keep him from firing before help arrived. With the amount of animalistic growls and snarls, there was still a fighting chance.
Lyra stood up and positioned herself within reach of the pulsing red beam of light. Leaning against the wall, she laughed loudly, "Ahahahaha! So this is what the mighty Thomas has been reduced to?"
Thomas's face grew red with rage, his face writhing at the very sound of her voice. It was once his goal to force the ever tight-lipped Lyra to speak, until he was only granted her snarky back talk. For years now, his only wish was to hear her screams. Her calm voice was revolting, irritating his already on-edge nerves. He abandoned the futile attempt to switch on any lights. Marching in her direction in the corner, he pointed his gun at Lyra's cell. He was relying on memory of the layout because there was no way he could find her that quickly.
"Are you talking to me, Bitch?" His eyes squinted to her frame in the red flashes.
"Whoops!" Her expression was of an exaggerated innocence, with her shoulders and palms raised. Every gesture and movement was painful, but he wouldn't be able to see subtlety. And she wanted to live or at least make it so some of the others could.
She quickly glanced toward the other cells, four sets of bewildered eyes glowed back at her. She thought of communicating through mind-link to get them in on her plan, but she was no good at multitasking her speech and thoughts. Luckily, before she could continue her charade, Ruben interrupted. Ever the quick wit, he had caught onto her intention.
"God, I remember the first blow he landed on me. I think he broke 3 ribs at once!"
Turning back toward the stairs, Thomas swung the barrel of his weapon toward the new voice. His face contorted in confusion and he was straining to see basic shapes. Stomping closer to Ruben's cell he let out an angry groan. Of all the cells, Ruben's was illuminated the brightest due to his proximity to the entrance and light source. However, he was silently moving within his cage, looking like a choppy stop motion movie.
"Right?!" Lyra chided, "To start off so strong, only to cap off his long, bloody career of wolf hunting with... this?"
Thomas turned back to Lyra's cell, she had shifted out of the red light, frustrating him further. No sooner than he could take another step, Ruben continued, "Using a firearm to mow down defenseless, injured and caged people?"
'Ah, we really think alike.' Lyra smirked.
Ruben had used the word "people" intentionally. Thomas would always insist they were things, not to be correlated with human beings in any way. He would go as far as to inflict violence toward anyone, even compadres, who remotely humanized werewolves. Which included so much as using pronouns like 'she' or 'he' rather than 'it'. She smiled at Ruben who could see her well enough despite the lighting.
Lyra continued his point in harmony, "An automatic one at that! How embarrassing. Where's your sense of pride?"
Thomas stomped directly up to the bars of her enclosure. The muzzle of his gun fitted through the slats, tilting as he searched the shadows. Lyra considered charging at him and disarming him. But she wasn't confident enough in her weakened state. He didn't stay long enough anyway. The ever silent Frank chimed in, his voice cracked and hoarse from lack of use. He was located across from Ruben, and furthest from Lyra. Making the furious guard face further down the room. This was a new kind of stimulant. It was quite possible that Thomas had never heard a peep from the oldest prisoner during his entire confinement.
"I remember you saying how you liked your kills to be…" he paused with dramatic intent, as if he was searching for the perfect word, "more…"
Dana beat him to it, "…up close…"
"…and personal."
"To watch the life fade…"
"…out of their inhuman eyes."
"To witness the riddance…"
"…of such vile…"
"…and unnatural…"
"…abominations!"
In synchrony, all five wolves taunted him with his own words. All while stealthily shifting their locations within their cells to disorient their assailant. He swiveled his gun from cell to cell attempting to hone in on a target through sound and shadows. They continued, but eventually he began to catch on to their objective.
"A dead dog is a dead fucking dog!" He said with a high pitched, gritty screech, "And I'll kill every filthy one of you- you blasphemous things any damn way I plea-"
Before he could finish, a strong hand was gripped around the guard's neck. His speed was impressive, even for a werewolf. He was a very tall man and beefy like a competitive bodybuilder. Dark wavy hair reached his scapulas and tribal tattoos covering half of his tanned, naked body was the embodiment of wild. His stoic, expressionless face was fierce, more terrifying than any scowl. He was unhurriedly squeezing, glaring down at the pitiful, dying man. No doubt he heard Thomas' threat and the hatred dripping from his words. His entire demeanor morphed when a squeal interrupted the slow and menacing execution.
"Kennyyyy!"
Like an eager puppy, his head jerked sharply to his right. Once he caught sight of his little mate a genuine grin spread across his face. He was a gruff kind of handsome, even with the terrifying air from before. But when his face melted to pure joy, he donned a completely different kind of attractiveness. No longer interested in his prey, he quickly snapped the spine in his hand, tossing the limp guard across the floor effortlessly. Thomas' body slid down the concrete and slammed against the far wall with a hollow thud. The giant werewolf ran excitedly to the cell.
Dana yelled, "Wait!"